What a difference a week makes at this time of year. Warm
sun and little wind makes for a perfect spring day. Inside Penrice Estate, most trees are still without leaves,
the snowdrops have gone, and just a few withering crocuses hang on, and in
their place a great mass of celandines, wood anemones and primroses carpet the
parkland floor. A handful of violets
hide in the shade of some trees, and dandelions are starting to spread. More snake’s head fritillaries are out,
but this is just the beginning; in a week from now they’ll be at their best.
In wetter places, clumps of marsh marigolds shine vibrant
yellow in the afternoon sun, in normal years they would be growing out of
water, but this year many are surrounded by dried-out mud. Yellow flag, now about a foot high,
won’t be out for weeks, and the reeds are beginning to poke green shoots above
the water. Flying insects are few,
and I wonder how the distant singing chiffchaff is faring. A Cetti’s warbler calls from deep
inside the marsh; they’re resident here, and he too may be finding food
difficult to locate.
The sluice at the end of the great lake drains out into a
tiny waterfall creating the only sound save for a few birds in the trees
above. The path to the Jack Pond
tells me that badgers were here last night, and at the pond a little more
spring has arrived. Willows are
showing bright green leaves, and groups of tiny flies dance in vertical circles
above the water. The footpath ends
at a stile leading to an old wet meadow.
I could walk to Oxwich village from here, but prefer the secret world of
the Jack Pond. Looking back
through the bare trees to the great house I see water, reeds, woodland and the
elegant Georgian house. I’m back
in the reign of George III.
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