The Rolling English Road

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

(G. K. Chesterton)

This morning I saw a green woodpecker but wasn't able to take photos. Then, after working at a tutorial with a colleague, I went to the raptor viewing site at Capel Fleet. I saw a heron lazily loping across the fields and watched, rapt, as a marsh harrier criss-crossed across its hunting area. Too far away for a photo; I have some of a V shape against a blue sky but not blippable. I decided to grab some shots of the oil seed rape as it starts to come into flower and I liked this one showing the lane down to Harty Ferry and the wobbly telegraph poles. The grey line on the horizon is the Kent coast across the Swale estuary.

Tuesday's gone (as Lynyrd Skynyrd so wisely said)