Wayland Wood

Visited Wayland Wood in Norfolk for the first time yesterday. The wood at this time of year is filled with birdsong and bluebells, and yesterday, the patter of raindrops on newly unfurled leaves. The dull, damp conditions would have been great for close up photography, but an annoying little breeze made it very difficult. When working with such limited depth of field, the slightest movement is enough to blur the image. Still, I managed to make a few photos, not bad, considering I’m so out of practice.

This lovely little flower is Water Avens, Geum rivale, a plant I’ve not come across before, but was growing in abundance in the wood.

Click images to view larger

Similar Posts

  • Footprints in the mud

    Winter is a great time for searching for tracks and signs of animals. These prints appeared in the garden recently, and setting up the remote camera showed they belonged to a rather handsome Muntjac deer. He’s a regular night time visitor now, finishing up the apple I put out for the Blackbirds. Take a look…

  • At Last

    As regular readers will know, the Turtle Dove is a bird very close to my heart. It was the bird that inspired my passion for all things wild, and an equal passion for it’s conservation. Since June, I’ve had this remarkable bird visiting the garden, but have struggled with time and light to actually get…

  • Peek-a-boo

    Over the Fen this morning, couldn’t resist photographing this little rabbit as he peeked out of his burrow at me. Sunshine and showers kept the Sedge and Reed warblers hiding low in the vegetation, but the Cuckoo was still singing away. Five Roe deer were very camera shy, only the rabbits would let me photograph…

  • Sunshine

    A beautiful morning on the Fen, what a relief to have some calm sunny weather! The first bird of the day was a Spotted Flycatcher near the visitors centre – a lovely little bird. A pair of Treecreepers were also hanging around. Walking out onto the fen, I saw the Little Grebe in his regular…

  • Tales from the Riverbank

    The thin January light seeps through Winter’s brown stems, warming the muddy tones faintly golden. The cold grips my limbs despite three layers, as I sit frozen to the damp riverbank. A Blackbird whispers his subsong in the cool sunlight, practising for when Spring arrives. The water is high, and the river flows fast, eddies…

One Comment

Leave a Reply