Morning light in the meadow

It was a beautiful start to the day, and as I'd been woken early by the dawn chorus, it seemed appropriate to head down to the dew-soaked river-meadow where the Snake's-head Fritillaries flower. I think I've probably blipped these every year, but I make no apologies, as I think they are one of our most alluring flowers, beautiful but slightly sinister.

On seeing fritillaries near Oxford, Gerald Manley Hopkins wrote ' Snake's-heads like drops of blood. Buds pointed and like snake's heads, but the reason of name from mottling and scaly look.' The many vernacular names show how the Fritillary suggested blood, death, snakes and sorrow.

Although they are generally considered a native species, there are no records of them in the wild until 1736, and the famous Magdelen College population was first recorded in 1785. It would seem unlikely, if not impossible, that such a conspicuous plant of the Oxford Meadows should have been overlooked for so long. They are probably a long-established introduction, having escaped from Tudor or Jacobean gardens. They have been welcomed into the UK flora because they are beautiful and well-behaved, unlike many other more recently introduced species, which often precipitate a form of ecological xenophobia.

I was glad I'd made the effort to get out early as the sky soon clouded over, and we even had a slight smirr of rain. In the afternoon Ben, Alex and I went into town to sort out financial matters and try to get Alex the few remaining things required for his travels. This evening I took Alex out for a practice drive in the fens, but a minute or two after he'd started, the magnetic L-plate blew off the car and disappeared into the tall bank of nettles alongside the road. We went back to look for it, but no sign whatsoever, so I'll need to buy another set of L-plates tomorrow morning - probably not magnetic though!