Ramsons

I tend to think that a wood full of ramsons is as spectacular at this time of year as a wood carpeted with bluebells, with the added attraction of a powerful, garlicky pong. This is the best of the ramsons woods that I know of in the Arnside vicinity. The beck is the border between Lancashire on the left and Cumbria on the right. The ramsons is three weeks later this year than last, as is the herb Paris which also grows here.

I had been hoping for a brighter day for this, but it was dull and drizzly, and the tripod had a rare outing. Maybe it is just lack of practice, but I hate using tripods. There is no spontaneity, and it takes ages to set up shots on uneven ground (or even stood in the beck as some of my shots from here were). Mr Gravett would give me a good talking to if I ever turned up on one of his photography classes.

Gus had a day of encounters. He met the lady collie from the farm again this morning, and again I was relieved when she decided to head home rather than follow us. Then this evening after we had been out for a late celebratory meal for our anniversary, he met Ollie the 11 month old German pointer. Poor Gus was bemused by Ollie's speed and energy, but he did have a go at rounding him up (to no avail). I shall have to get a blip of Ollie, particularly in mudhound mode as he was tonight in the sticky estuarine mud left by the big tides of the last couple of days.