Saturday 15th June 2019

In a previous life, this used to be a day of birthdays. But I'm a different person now, though those celebrating are not.

So it goes, so it goes.

I like an orchid every now and then, as you know. And most weekends in the spring and early summer, I drag Jools hither and thither, all over Kent and beyond, on the train of a really rare orchid, or some other such tall tale. Which is fine.

I also run an orchid group on Facebook, and last weekend we had a meet up in Rye to see a rare Bee Orchid, or a hundred. Don't ask, and with the season getting away from me, I wanted to go to Sandwich Bay to see the Lizard Orchids.

For the inner Republican in me, that such an outstanding area of natural beauty could be privately owned affronts me, but the security patrols, and now number plate recognition cameras, means that access is controlled, and the orchids very well protected.

So, with us being there, I said to the group, if anyone wants to meet up, be there at nine.

And with the shopping done the day before, there was no rush.

Except the sun was shining after we had coffee, and I had a plan to visit the two sites at Pegwell Bay before going to Sandwich.

So it was I was hustling Jools out of the house at half seven, before driving like a demented thing along the Sandwich road, then onto Richborough to Ebbsfleet (another one), to check on the colony of mad hybrids and regular CSOs and SMOs that grow there.

The site is public, and a lot of people go by on bikes, walking, or exercising their dogs, apparently hardly noticing the orchidly delights in plain view, sticking out of the undergrowth. I don't miss them, and for me a fine show of both species and a fine hybrid of the two are photographed and recorded.

We had only taken 20 minutes, and i told myself we could nip to the old hoverport to check on the Bees, Yellow Man and SMOs that lay hidden apart from the dogwalkers, doggers and orchid hunters.

We go down to see the Man Orchids before cutting through the undergrowth to find about a dozen Bee spikes, numbers triple from last year, then the pair of SMOs, I know there are more, but we had run out of time. So we dashed back to the car, turned round and drove to the other side of Sandwich, to the estate, paying a quid to get to the bird observatory, where three carloads of snappers and potential orchid addicts were waiting.

I say hello to each of them, the warden tells us to walk over the golf course rather than through the mansions, so that's what we do. A new experience for me, as we usually pay a flying visit, parking on the dunes near the heaviest concentration of Lizard spikes.

The path goes across to fairways, and the bepringled are already out, the wealthier ones having a caddy to carry their bags of sticks. Sorry, clubs. One had pink slacks and a yellow shirt on. And a single glove. He looked like an explosion in ta trifle factory. But then I looked lie a fat bloke with a nechfull of cameras and flashes.

So we were even.

We waved at each other, they went towards the green, and we went to the dunes.

We stop at some spears of wild asparagus. The others photograph the plant, I snap the spike off and eat it. Sorry, but fresh asparagus is wonderful, sweet and tasting of fresh peas.

We walk on, come to two other photographers who had got sidetracked chasing some day flying moths. My group would have dallied too, as there were the first Lizards there too, but there are plenty more lizards over there, I said, pointing at the dunes just the other side of the fence.

I wasn't lying. There were hundreds.

And hundreds.

Thing about Lizards is, they might be big. And bonkers. But there is very little difference between them. Sure, some are bigger, have denser flower spikes than others, but the flowers, lips and sepals are pretty uniform. It's just they are mad.

We walk down to the entrance to the golf club, where I know there are a few Bee spikes. We find them, as well as hundreds of developing partly open Pyramidal spikes.

It is orchid heaven. But already two hours, nearly, has passed. And I had let slip, no they remembered I had posted several pictures of a Birds Nest, and the hint was, take them there. My plan had always to go on to PGD to look at the Musks again, and Woolage was on the way, and a short visit could be squeezed in. So why not?

Why not indeed?

We drove in a four car convoy through Sandwich, onto the A256 and then on the Canterbury road to Wingham. We didn't get spit up, though came close. So we drove in procession into Woolage, parked on the main road, then walked to the wood.

As we stood over the single Birds Nest spike, now having gone to seed, a woman came from the house on the main road making sure we could find the orchids, she loves them, and wants to share the love too.

A really nice turn of events.

From there we drove to Barham, then down towards Elham, taking the narrow lane over the top of the Down to Park Gate, taking up all the parking spaces under the woods.

It was like herding cats, getting orchid newbies past the Monkey, Common Fragrant and Fly to the far paddock, where the musk lay hidden again in plain sight.

We walk to the spot, I turn to the five of them and say, there are three spikes withon six feet of all of us, can you find them?

I am a twat, as the spikes are tiny, little more than an inch high, and almost the same shade of green as the surrounding grass.

After a couple of minutes, I tell them to turn round.

Ha ha.

And two minutes later, one of them sees the line green spikes.

And so there we are.

Three tiny spikes, maybe more to come, but for now, another spikes for all of them to see.

Jools had booked a hair cut, and wanted to do some swimming, so time was running out. I bid them farewell, walk back to the car where Jools was waiting, and we were gone, driving back to Barham and onto the A2 and home.

What a morning.

We go home, have lunch of what is breakfast. I mean, fruit, yoghurt and coffee. Lovely.

Jools then goes out for swimming, a haircut and to meet with Jen and Sylv, who is back from buying a house in Bolton, and staying with Jen again.

I stay home to listen to music, write and edit shots.

Jools is in the garden, and I get a shout to say two damselflies are in a mating wheel near to the new pond. I grab my camera and go out. I snap them in all kinds of pitions from the dragonfly Karma-sutra, and as we watch, a black shape tries to grab them. A frog juped from the dark depths to try to eat the happy couple. Missing. But then he sits, waiting, on the bag of barley straw, for his next victim. I snap him.

As you do.

Later, Jools comes home, we have dinner, listen to some music, and the day fades from view.

The evening, we have to relax, then go to bed early, as we have to take Jane to Stansted to catch a flight to a country called Spain.

Not been there myself, but I hear they do a good tapas and a glass of wine.