Sunday 12th June 2022

After something like 11 days off, this was the last one. And I planned to spend it, at least partially, photographing yet more orchids.

I don't go off all day anymore visiting site after site after site, nor do I keep going to one where a particular species grows to be the first one to see and snap it that season.

Well, not any more.

Once in flower, I go back, take my shots, take in the scene and go home.

So it was on Sunday that my plan was to revisit Sandwich Bay to see the Lizard Orchids at their peak, maybe hunt and snap a few dragonflies too, and be back in time to cook a splendid lunch for Jools, me and Jen, as Jen is heading oop north on Tuesday for at least three weeks, and we had not seen her since before we went away.

We had coffee and bacon butties, then to make sure it was just a cough and cold we had, we both took PCR tests, which both came back negative.

Jools was going to stay home, so I drove through to Deal and onto Sandwich, then onto the estate into the observatory car park. It was a perfect morning, endless sunshine, little wind and the promise of orchids. Lots of orchids.

I walked across the main road and through the hay meadow, I could see a few Southern Marsh. I stop to take shots, but I really have already taken enough shots of those this season.

Onto the golf course, crossing two fairways, and on the far side the Lizards began.

I have, over the years taken as many shots of these spectacular orchids as I could ever need, but then they are as mad as a box of frogs, so I walk from one to the next, looking for any unusual colour variation. I must have checked hundreds of spikes along the strand. I find one that was sandy coloured, but none that were green.

I wasn't going to go far, but I end up walking down to the start of Royal St George's, and there was a single spike of Bee, along with many spikes of Pyramidal, that were yet to reach their best. But I snap them anyways.

I walk back to the car, resisting the urge to snap and eat one of the only two spikes of wild asparagus I see, there are parts of the estate where the public can't go, and there is much more that survives and thrives, or so I was told by a warden last year.

Back across the golf course, and then along to the ringing nets looking for dragons, and was rewarded by a newly emerged male Scarce Chaser and a female Common Darter, both posing well in the sunshine. I get shots.

But don't get one of the first Marbled White I have seen this year, that flittered away without resting.

I walk back the final few years to the car, get in and turn the key, heading for home, back through Deal and along the coast road.

And by then it was time to prepare lunch. Slice five cloves of garlic, then "plant" each in the shoulder of lamb, and then repear for rosemary, so that the flovours will soak into the lamb when cooking. I finally season it, and leave to rest.

I put it in to cook at half eleven, but the rest required little preparation; boiled baby new potatoes anong with purple spring greens and the last of the English asparagus. What died take time was the maderia gravy, which was as wonderful as you would imagine.

Jen arrived at one, I dished up at half past, a bottle of fizz was opened and we ate well.

And it was a delicious as you would have thought, and enough lamb and gravy left over for a shepherd's pie during the week.

Lovely.

Jen stays to chat about life and her plans. She is looking at selling the house and moving to Bury, or somewhere close to Sylv. We'll miss her of course, but want her to be happy.

She leaves at half four, and so it is just us and the cats agan.

The day, the weekend and the final hours of the holiday slips though our fingers. I write, then spend an hour uploading shots to Twitter for #wildflowerhour.

I am done.

The weekend is done.

Back to the madness in the morning.