
Feeling very average yesterday morning I knew I really needed to get out to walk; to clear my head and get the blood pumping. I hadn’t had a proper walk since Monday and sometimes the need is real. We went off to walk a familiar loop around the field paths, it is just over 3 miles.

The weather was really warm and pleasant, although doesn’t the sky look ominous in this photo? It had rained overnight so the lane was pretty squelchy and the field paths too, in places. My walking trainers got pretty muddy, but it doesn’t matter. It’s only when I feel the heel of one of my shoes slipping and I go sliding backwards, nearly landing on my bottom that I worry! (This happens more often than you would imagine. I must lean slightly backwards, or something when I walk, or can I blame my footwear…)

This is Fiddleneck and has many other names including purple tansy or blue tansy. According to the Picture This app (so useful, I highly recommend the free version)
Fiddleneck flowers open in a sequence that allows for a long flowering time, which is why it attracts bumblebees, honeybees, and other pollinators. It is typically grown in vineyards and along agricultural fields. This plant is native to the southwestern United States and is grown as a cover crop, green manure, and decorative plant.
It’s so unusual to see oilseed rape planted and flowering so late in England. This field had barley and was edged in beautiful poppies during the summer. Actually I think you’ll find a photo, or maybe two, if you look back a few posts ago.
I’ve just messaged a family member who farms in Wiltshire. I’ll report the answer if I get it before I press publish on this post.






As we walked along this field path a jay was hopping along the field, we disturbed it and so it took off in a blaze of colour. We don’t see jays very often, so this was a special sighting

Then three quarters of the way around there was a longish sit in the sunshine, coats off, basking in the warmth of the sun on our arms and faces (I always think ‘Oh good, vitamin D!’) occasionally sipping water while staring at the stunning view.

I would say I left home feeling a three or four and came back feeling a seven or eight on my personal wellbeing scale. Good stuff!
~~~
My question about the crop has been answered:
Hi Rachel
Good to hear from you. I hope you are all well. My guess is it’s a cover crop of mixed flowering crops. The yellow is probably mustard and purple phacelia.
It’s done to reduce soil erosion and nutrient leaching. The crop will get destroyed in the spring for a crop of barley or wheat.
M❤️
So my use of the app was spot-on for the tansy, because that’s another name for purple phacelia, but my assumption that we were looking at oilseed rape was completely incorrect. Sometimes what you don’t know you don’t know becomes really apparent!
I’ll keep an eye on this field and see if I can catch what happens in the spring and what crop replaces it in the summer.
~~~
If you’re not feeling great this weekend, and you’re able to, I suggest that you go for a walk. It doesn’t need to be a field or footpath, of course it can be urban; in the centre of the town or city. Maybe along a canal, or riverside, through a wood, or even a residential area.
Have a think about how you feel on your own personal scale of well-being, where’s your head at, how does your body feel, what is your general mood like? And then reflect how you’re feeling when you’ve walked a little way, and again at the end of your walk. I would guarantee that it will be a higher number and you’ll feel better. It’s SO good to get out and move.
I’ll be back soon with a books post.























































































































































































Poor osteospermum (aka African Daisy, so my friend Jill tells me) nearly drowned in all the rain so came inside to dry off. Poor thing was flourishing and flowering a second time – go me, the deadheading Queen! – but started to look bedraggled and as if it was going to wither. I don’t blame it to be honest. I was starting to feel the same way. 














































Would love to whirl around in this beauty
I spotted seven parakeets in trees near the Serpentine in Hyde Park, London. They were picking at the blossom then scattering it on the ground, the hooligans! 











Thursday it was time to cook a warming curry. Another Olive magazine recipe to try. We really liked their version of 

























Cowslips with a background of bluebells make such a pretty picture. I always think of 
A glimpse of a field of rape flowers through the trees.



This week I added to my garter stitch blanket. I like the look of the navy with the lavender a lot. As I did another 6 rows (250 stitches each) I reflected on how much I’m enjoying knitting. It’s as meditative as crochet when easy, good to have two hands in motion, I like the feel and look of the fabric.
I’ve also added a few more colour blocks to my patchwork blanket. Also satisfying once I get into a rhythm, but a bit boring to contemplate doing masses of linen stitch which is why this has been very slow in the making. I much prefer the swoop and flow of trebles to doubles.


A host of golden daffodils. They’re probably all dried and crinkly now. I’m glad I saw them looking so lush.
So in the last week and a half I’ve knitted; ‘that’ sock, the garter stitch blanket and finished my lace cowl using chunky needles, crocheted and done the other craft which requires very fine motor skills. And my point? My hands hurt. My arms hurt. My elbows are stiff. The side of my hands are tingling. (I should probably not be typing this, but dictating.) That is a big warning sign isn’t it? I think I might have done too much knitting with the chunky 5mm needles, the lace pattern required lots of different manipulative movements and then there were hours of sock knitting. I’ve been disciplined at only doing one set of repeats max with the cowl, but got carried away one day with the sock. I unravelled and reknitted for far too long. In all these years of crocheting I’ve never experienced this, I’m in a sulk with knitting. Stupid chunky needles, stupid tiny circulars, stupid lace, stupid sock. I think this means a total ban on craft for a month. I’ve put a note that I can try again on 19th May….unless they feel magically better sooner. Sniff.
I love this tall variety of snowdrops. 
Look! It’s a carpet of cyclamen.

A stream runs right through the woods. There are various bridges to cross, but I drew the line at one which was little more than a plank. Guess who had walked a mere ten steps at the beginning of the walk, then slid in slow-motion to the left, ending up lying in mud? B helped me up, like the old lady I felt I had become and then cheerfully stated: “It could have been worse; you could have choked on your pear drop!” I was walking and squelching for a while, until the mud and puddle water dried off a bit.
More cyclamen, and a close up of some of the patch.



After all that snow and minus temperatures it’s amazing to see the snowdrops again. Aren’t they resilient? I guess the clue is in the name. Can you see the pink and yellow flowers on the right? I think they’re primula.


























































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