Saturday 14th April 2018

It am the weekend.

And the moment we look forward to all week; a Saturday morning when we could lay in to midday or beyond, but am laying awake, a head full of endless possibilities of the day ahead. That is after we go shopping, Jools has a haircut, and then we can do what we want.

And although it was supposed to be cloudy most of the day, no one told the weather and so the sun shone down from a clear blue sky, making it look every inch like spring.

Jools drops me off at Tesco while she goes to the hairdresser in town, I have the list, credit card and a scanner thing. I go round and round filling the trolley, there is rack of lamb again for seven quid, so that's Sunday dinner sorted.

I am done and waiting outside with overflowing trolley for when Jools comes back. People are arriving all the time, single minded on their hunter-gathering.

After ten minutes, Jools arrives, we load the car and are off home for breakfast and put the shopping away.

I am itching to get going, but Jools is reading in the sunshine on the patio. She is going to stay, so I am going orchid hunting myself.

Over the last week, shots of flowering orchids have been posted from Dorset, Sussex and by friend Mark in north Kent. So I was hopeful that I would find at least one open or partially open orchid spike. Anyway, on a glorious Spring day, even if I don't find anything, my time would not be wasted.

I drive up the A20, past Faversham onto the motorway, getting ever faster as I get ever nearer the wood where I was pretty confident I would find the prize.

I park at the bottom of the hill and walk up the narrow lane, past the dead spikes of last year's Ivy Broomerape, the closed off road and onto the reserve.

At first it looked promising: wood anemones and bluebells were opening, turning the woodland floor into a blue and white carpet on a green background. I can't help myself, and go straight to the clearing where I know the earliest of the spikes would be. And right away I see the scrub had not been cleared over the winter, and where last year were dozens of rosettes, were now just a tangle of brambles.

I looked harder and found a fair few rosettes with spotted leaves, around the edge, but not one was within a week of opening. I take a couple of shots of the most advance, and sigh. I walk on round the reserve, see more bluebells, of course, but down the steps I find dozens of large Lady Orchid rosettes, some with spikes beginning to form. It is going to be a good year.

The bottom road is now buried an inch under abandoned and dump bricks, wooden panels and the burnt out hulks of cars and bikes that are dumped here. So much for loving our country, some people just see it as an easy lace and way of dumping things they can't be arsed to take to the council tip.

Wankers.

I walk back to the car, and now turn and head for the coast, back to Barham for the Early Purples, Lesser Butterfly, Lady and Fly there.

The motorway is clogged with traffic heading to Margate to catch the first warm weekend of the year. I take the A2 to Canterbury and Dover, meaning that once past the Canterbury turn, the road is pretty quiet again. I drive down the narrow lanes leading to the all too familiar bridleway, parking at the bottom, hoisting the camera with the macro on my back, and setting off up the stiff and muddy climb.

Rosettes are there, but in in great numbers, I think many suffered in the drought last year. But some are putting up spikes, and a couple had the buds emerging from the sheath. Nearly, but not quite.

I knew there was no point in going over to the wood the other side, there would be rosettes of Lady, Fly and Twayblade, but none out, so I make do with looking for a tiny flower, the Townhall Clock, on the fringes of the wood. You can tell a flower photographer/botanist, as we walk with our head bowed, looking back and forth as we seek the object of our desire.

I finally see a tiny stalk, and at the top was the unique five flowers opening. Nearby there are a couple, and with the lens set on closest focus, I snap it a few times. I spot an equally small flower beside that, so snap that two. Identification would come later

But in nearly four hours I have visited two sites and seen no open orchids. That will not be the case between now and the end of September.

It was half one now, so I rush home for lunch, to find Jools had been busy in the garden. I make ham rolls and a brew and we are soon feeling much better.

Of course I have to review my shots, and listen to the football, so the pattern for the rest of the afternoon is set. I d make another batch of buttermilk scones to use up the last of the butter, buttermilk and clotted cream. If I'm honest, probably not the healthiest thing to have, but bloody lovely.

Once cooled, I halve them, smother each half in butter, huckleberry and clotted cream. Fresh brews are made and we can sit down to eat whilst the radio burbles in the background.

Being Saturday, it is card night, so at seven we leave to pick up John on the way to Jen's. Jokes are made, drinks are poured, then it all gets serious. Cards were dealt. And after the poor night I had two weeks ago, I scoop two of the three jackpots, scraping the pile of pennies back and making mad laughing noises.

We stop to have supper; samosas, spring rolls, bhajis, and mini-pork pies. Lovely.

And we were done by eleven, back home at half past. The rain hammered down, and we smile, knowing that it will do the garden good.