Blackstone Point

It was such a beautiful, mild Spring evening that Gus and I went for a longer walk to Blackstone Point. Here there are the remnants of an old wharf from the days when the Kent Channel was navigable up to Arnside and beyond. The faithful solitary gull put in an appearance at just the right moment.

Spring has such momentum now, every moment has to be savoured. On our lunchtime walk over the Helm, there were skylarks singing unseen high in the sky, and newly arrived meadow pipits doing their parachuting song flight. Outside my window at work, a chiffchaff has been alternating its disyllabic song with catching insects around the unfurling birch leaves. The blackthorn on the Knott is beginning to open for its brief flourish. The walk along the estuary this evening was a hint of paradise, there really is nowhere else I want to be.

It was worth coming home late, and getting into trouble for Gus's muddy tummy and paws. The poor lad does try to keep out of the sticky mud, but he regards it as his duty to look after me when I'm scrambling about in it trying to find the best angle.