Walking Ghyll, 5 June

Writing these is cathartic, and also is a reason to stop and look at the trees so I can do environmentalist virtue signalling on my blog that I suspect very few people read. In the field, Ghyll bounds amid big heaps of clover, thick and dense and cream and pink. The bees are out, and the little gnats and flies that feed on pollen, and at one point Ghyll even chases a little brown butterfly. On our…