Saturday 20th June 2020

Summer solstice 2020.

At 21:44.

And Saturday.

And lots of football.

I guess I should say something about the return of football. And bear in mind my team, Norwich, got beaten heavily on Friday.

In general, the thought of football returning has been better than the actual experience of it. The TV coverage has canned crowd nose, which makes it seem almost normal, but then the wide angle shots show four empty stands.

Other than for money, why do it? If there are no fans, then we shouldn't be doing it.

After three nights of football, I was footballed out, and decided that I would watch little as possible on Saturday. But before kick off, there was time to go out.

The year presses on, and the main orchid season is over and the grande finale is coming, amazing as it sounds. But there was one, well two, species that I had not seen this year. One was the Birds Nest, but their time has come and gone, but the tiny Musk should now be at its peak. I had already been there twice to look and seen no sign, but one last try.

As if 5 hours wasted so far on the hunt wasn't enough.

But also thoughts turn to the oncoming Helleborine part of the season, and having seen pictures of Broad Leaved already open in the West Country, maybe I should check at The Larches? But that is at Maidstone, maybe a bit far on the offchance, should I check the nearest population near to Barham?

Which is why, shortly before nine in the morning, we were parking the car under a substantioal bridge which used to carry the Elham Valley line between Folkestone and Canterbury. A short walk along is a lane, and last year along that lane there was a colony of the very rare Yellow Birdsnest, as well as a few nice Broad Leaved Helleborines.

We walked down, and there was me expecting to find spikes nearly in flower, and finding little more then seedlings sticking out of the leaf litter. A few were further advanced, but not by much. And there was no Yellow Birds Nest either.

I follow a woodland path and find dozens of Fly Orchid spikes, now gone to seed, but clearly a place to investigate next year.

And above, the skies were again refusing to clear as expected.

Bugger.

A short drive down the valley took us back to Park Gate where it was time for the third and fnal search for the tiny and elusive Musk Orchids.

Things is, I know where and when to look. I know what to look for. Should be simple, but it seems in my mind the orchids which I remembered were begger than they actually were. But I would find that out later.

I search the whole of the third paddock, along all five of the paths. I see no Musk.

A couple arrive, and ask what I was looking for: Musk. Great he says, my friend found a spike during the week.

Oh great, that means I wasn't going to leave here until they were found. I realise this now, but not then I promised Jools ten more minutes. Just 15 more.

And so on.

The chap gets directions from his friend: take the middle path, a little way up and 18 inches off the path on the right. So clear.

The middle path. Of four paths.

Sigh.

I search both middle paths, and I had given up. I was walking to the gate to go to find Jools.

"Sir"

The chaps wife, Virginia calls to me. "Can you identify these?"

I go over, and I see three tiny spikes, each about 3cm tall. All clearly Musk spikes. I see a 4th nearby.

We take turns to take shots of the spikes in sunshine, hapy with that, I can now go to find Jools.

Jools was sat on the edge of the old quarry, reading a book on her phone, she was fine and knew what was going to happen, and she was cool with it.

The chap had said that the Marsh Helleborines were out at Sandwich, and I was tempted to go, but they would be there next weekend, so I say to JOols, lets go home for lunch, have a brew and relax.

So we do.

Back home I make dinner, chorizo hash, which we have not had for a while, and I can make it with 90% of my brain thinking of other stuff. I chop and boil potatoes, cut the vegetables and sausage. Cook them all one by one, then combining at the end into the wok and serving with cold frothing beers. Or cider.

Lovely.

There is football on the radio. With news of multiple matches going on, and Sports Report at five. Almost felt like normal.

I make a loaf of wholemeal bread for supper, to make ham sandwiches, then we can play Uckers. And I win again.

Finally, I open the bottle of whisky that was delivered this week, and at half nine we sit outside as the sun sets on the longest day, whilst bats do somersaults catching moths and other insects.

It'll soon be Christmas.