Hartshill Hayes 21 July 2018

5.22am
On Oldbury Hills for sunrise, but low lying cloud obscuring the horizon. I rushed across the back way, through Moorwood, tunnels of wood pigeons. The sun is just breaking through the clouds. So bright so beautiful. I just did two rounds of salute to the sun, and here it is. Huge, orange, red, pink, top sliced off by another bit of cloud. So glad I got here in time. Beginning of a new day. Mist over everything, some dew, but a feeling it's going to be hot later. The grass is brown and smells sweet. The sun rises so fast, shooting up through the clouds, and only fifteen minutes since sunrise. Like all these hills, fields, are the stage for the day, and later there will be a performance and an audience. This is the quiet early morning, after last night's do, before tonight. Here in winter the place was resting. There were no performances. The sun's gone behind cloud, preparing, I think, for a spectacular re-entrance. Yes, here it comes, exciting. I'm going to watch.

6.04am
Walked into the woods, sun on the tops of the trees, wood pigeons, other birds, so lovely. Walking through it feels the way a cat must do when it's stroked, it makes me purr, or would if I could, it touches something very deep, but it's a soft touch, it's like walking through silk.

I went to see the lime tree that Johnny and I saw last time, and was pleased that I could find it, an individual tree in a wood.

I saw the bench where Johnny and I sat and drank coffee in the dark. The woods are collecting new memories. How will it be when I can't come and stay at Bethany anymore? When the Hayes isn't on our doorstep? People have been building in the woods, wigwams, houses of sticks, benders. Sometimes, gathered around the base of a tree they look like they're going to burn a witch. One place where they'd been dragging sticks, some had been abandoned on the way, and they look like wooden snakes. I'm going to have to move on as there are midges here.

6.38am
Earlier in the year there was a bench here in this spot. Last month it was broken, and now it's gone. I've sat on it it to write before - on plastic bags - earlier in the year. Now I'm sitting on a mossy hump.  Plastic bags are not needed now. Been thinking about how different this is on my own. I can do whatever I want, go anywhere, have no plan. I write more, see things my way, take more photos. I haven't seen anyone yet this morning. I went to look for the wild service trees in the bottom corner, I only found one. I think I must have been in slightly the wrong place, as last time there were loads. Wood pigeons. I think their call is one of the most soothing sounds I know.

7.26am
In the cemetery. Just collected holly to put on Mum and Dad's grave. I collected quite a bit, thinking I'd put some on both sides, but when i got there there were a mixture of dead flowers and some which had dried and were still pretty. I got rid of the dead ones, rearranged the dried ones so they were all together on one side, then all the holly went the other side. It looks strong and vigorous and a bit wild. So maybe that represents Mum and Dad - or at least their taste in plants - Mum's pretty and delicate, Dad's strong and wild and bursting through. Collecting them was interesting, The trees weren't' that keen on giving them up. I only got a few stalks, maybe ten, all from different trees. Some were so firmly attached I had to give up. It meant I was walking along looking for holly, and there's lots of it. Only one bush had berries through, presumably that's the female.

Seen one or two people now, but it's still pretty quiet. I'm sitting on a bench in the graveyard. I'll head back into the woods. I guess it's not warm enough for butterflies yet, but I'll keep my eyes peeled, maybe I'll spot a white admiral for Johnny.

8.05am
Up at Oldbury Hills again. Another metaphor for how it feels walking in the early morning woods - like cutting butter with a warm knife. Easy, no resistance, lovely, very effective with little effort. People are about now, dog walkers, runners. The world isn't only mine any more. I kind of feel like I've done my thing, but I don't want to go back to Bethany yet. I'll go in a while. I'm going to sit here and read my book, then I'll walk back down the main ride on butterfly lookout, and head back around 10am.

9.28am
Sunny Saturday opened its doors some time before 9am. At eight I sat on the hills wearing a thin jumper and a fleece. I read my book. By nine both were well and truly off. Dog walkers everywhere. The toilets open at the visitor's centre. Children out playing. I saw a woman and boy having a breakfast picnic - I think mother and son - he was probably eight or nine. And I thought about grandchildren and how that could be a fun thing to do with them - I'd like to go camping with them too. I'd like to build, or grow, a willow house. I thought I'd sit and write a while before I go home, but I will go soon. Mary's arriving around ten. It's time to finish this part of the day. Made friends with a lovely golden retriever. Someone has left a beer bottle on this bench. I might take it with me and find a bin.