Yew

Gus and I were alone on Arnside Knott at dawn this morning, perhaps everyone else had been put off by the clammy fog that was shrouding the village. The only break in the silence was the sharp, punctuated notes of a song thrush in an ash tree behind me. Misty mornings like this are a beautiful illusion, and while the sun rises and before the moisture evaporates, I can believe that all is right with the world, that the planet isn't heating up, and that we haven't decimated so much of our wildlife.

I was slightly late leaving the house, and we rushed up the hill to clear the  tree canopy before the sun permeated the mist. Poor Gus was struggling to keep up, and I'm not particularly quick myself at the moment. I hurried him too much, and he was very tired when we got home. I don't know how much longer he will be able to make the morning walk up and over the hill. Many more I hope if we keep him fit with gentle exercise, but this morning was a lesson to let him walk up in his own time.

The unseasonally warm weather continues. It felt like a morning in May today. I have now seen two butterfly species on the wing this weekend, we have had honeybees in the garden, though fortunately there is no stirring yet from below Reg's pile of leaves. Last night as I took Gus for his late walk, I rescued a toad and a newt from the road, both having miraculously survived when the milk tanker went by. One large frog was less lucky, it's always lovely to see the first amphibians of the year, though I do find the carnage on the road distressing, and we don't have big movements of frogs and toads here.

There's an extra of the oak tree with the little yew tree in the background.

ps we saw 10 buzzards circling on the thermals above our house in the afternoon, and in the morning a skein of about 20 pink-footed geese heading north.