Saturday 5th May 2018

The three day weekend. Begins here.

And so the orchid season really begins in earnest. And in Kent.

From now on until the middle of June, there is not enough time to get around all sites in the county, to see all the species in flower. But, we were to be belssed with glorious weather at least two of the three days, which meant that even without orchids it would be fabulous, but with orchids, just fantastic.

But even after getting some shopping delivered, we still needed to go to Tesco for some essentials, like croissants and beer.

As if all this wasn't enough, Jools has a shedfull of plants to pot on and plant out, so the decision was made I would go shopping, and she would get potting and planting. But then there is another orchid site nearby that needed checking out.

Kingsdown beach as a small area of dune slacks where in about 5 square metres, a handful of Early Spiders cling on, most people being unaware that they are there. However, to get there was going to take some doing, as the main road through the village was closed, and then I find the alternate route is closed too. I find my way to Walmer Castle, then along to Kingsdown, parking up, grabbing my camera and walk through the hedge to the beach.

I know where they are now, so no real searching is needed, and once my eyes spot the first tiny spike, I see a few more.

Up and down I walk, finding 24 spikes, and about half in flower, with more to come in the next week or so. No one walks by, so no one wonders why I am hunched over this tiny part of the beach. Just me and the orchids. Perfect, really.

But time is getting on, and I have to get to tesco by eight, to get a scanner, rush round and be back home for breakfast as I know more orchids are calling. At least the shop is quiet at eight in the morning, so I am round and paying in twenty minutes, back home by half eight.

Jools packs the shopping away, while I make breakfast. I mean, make coffee and warm the croissants up, which we wolf down, and me after dipping in coffee as is al-la-mode in Le Mans. I saw it done, I swears.

A quick tidy up, and pack the camera bag, so we can be on our way by nine, or just a little past. And already it seems to be a warm day, so much better for spending the most of it outside, walking on the downs and in the woods.

Our first trip is to Lydden to check on the Man Orchids. A small roadside reserve, which has had a new fence put up over the winter, so protecting the botanical delights from the traffic which hammers by on the old London road a few feet away.

We part on the meridian, walk over to the new stile, clamber over, then begins the hunt for spikes.

It takes some time, but once you see one, its easy. But it seems the recent warm spell had not been enough, and all I could find were unopened spikes, but there is plenty of time for these beauties to open.

We clamber back over the fence and walk to the car, driving now for west Kent, and the trill of a new site.

A friend told me of a valley, deep in the folds of wooded Kentish landscape, where orchids thrive, surrounded by woods. To get there you have to walk through a huge bluebell wood, which, and I'm not lying when I say this is no hardship. And yet, once we had parked at the pub and walked down the lane to the top entrance to the reserve, it became clear that in the 12 days since I was last here, the bluebells had peaked and were now fading fast.

We go down and down into the wooded valley, when our attention was caught by an angry buzzing sound. What we found was a huge hornet, yellow and red and all buzzing and angry energy. In the end managed to climb up the flowering spike of an early purple orchid, throw itself off, and get enough lift and flew off. I would not like to get on the wrong side of an hornet.

In front of us was the meadow, clambering over another fence and onto a grassland down, dotted with Greater Butterfly rosettes and further up, Early Purples in great numbers and of impressive size. None of the Butterflies were yet out, but won't be long. I snapped many of the EPO, and then we sat, just watching a circling buzzard using a thermal to rise up and up, and at the same time keep an eye on any food on the ground.

It was midday, time for lunch, and the pub was calling.

We walked back down the down, over the fence, then took the steep part, the shortcut back to the edge of the wood, then over the fields where we could see the roof of the pub. Calling us.

We took a picnic seat outside, order a soft drink and a ploughman's each. And a beer or a cider. Perfect.

We sat watching our fellow diners, another buzzard circling, and life in a village coming and going. The food came; ham and cheddar, pickles, salad, Branston, apple, bread, butter and all on a wooden board. We made that and beer/cider vanish.

It seemed too early to go back home. Anyway, I knew there was a railtour heading nearby, and with the help of the sat nav, there was time to go back to Marden Meadow to stare in awe at the tens of thousands of Green Wing Orchids.

The sat nav took us through Leeds village, past its inviting church, then up the down, and over the other side onto the plain beyond. The road goes down through a village strung out along the main road, all Georgian sandstone buildings, grand houses and timber framed pubs. We stopped here once, on spring morning, but the church was locked. One day when I have snapped all the orchids, we will go back.

But until then there are places like Marden, three water meadows covered with so many orchids they appear purple. Or purple and yellow as there are numerous buttercups too. I have snapped enough Green Wing not to be too bothered about snapping many, but there were six pure white var. alba to find and snap.

But most of all, just to linger and marvel at one of the best natural sights in all of Kent, the majority of the Kent population of this orchid, just most in one place.

One last task, and that was the railtour. I had spotted a foot crossing nearby, and I went to investigate. It had good views up the track, would be great, just there was 50 minutes to wait. If it was on time. So, we parked up and I went investigating where the footpath the other side of the line went.

Turned out it went to a couple of ponds, the larger on had several large carp, basking just under the surface. Seemed a nice enough place, apart from the rubbish strewn about the place.

At three, I went back to the crossing to wait for the tour. It should have been there at about quarter past, if it was on time. But it might be late, if it breaks down.

After a bout twenty minutes, when all there was to do ware stare into the distance to see if there was an approaching train in the heat haze, and the sound of a single cuckoo. A local service passed, then a minute behind was the tour, not headed by two ugly class 20s, but two 73s instead.

Oh well.

I snap it coasting down the hill, and again as it continued down the long straight towards Ashford.

Job done.

We climb in the car, I switch the radio to the football, and we drive off. Jools is snoozing in the late afternoon sunshine, the car tells us it was 28 degrees outside, but it might have been lying. We turn the air con up a notch and power onto the motorway to drive home, with the light bank holiday traffic.

We were home in time for the second half of the games on the radio. I feed the cats, make a brew and we break out the Magnum ice creams.

We know how to live.

Dinner is insalata and fresh bread. Light and delicious. We follow that by fresh strawberries and cream and a coffee. Summer is nearly here.

We watch the first episode of The City and the City on the i player. Seems OK, sure it'll make sense at some point.