Foggy morning walk

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This actually happened on Tuesday. I haven't been on this walk for a week, and the crop (whatever it is) has shot up. It's well past my waist now.




I love this time of year with all the different wild flowers. Jack-in-the-hedge is below (which I know has lots of other names but I can't remember even one other at the moment)

Daisies not yet awake:

I was born in Bedfordshire, where we called this Cow parsley. In Northants, it's Kek. I do know it's also called Queen Anne's Lace, but I've never actually heard anyone call it that.

Elderflower just starting to sprout. Elder is supposed to be such a wonderful tree you are not supposed to cut it down. When we moved here, the garden was full of self-set elder, and we cut it all down. Er hum. Perhaps that might explain the dicey state of our chimneys; the parlous condition of our pointing, or the acros which have been faithfully propping up the cow byre for the last 10 years. Or perhaps not.
Anyway, I am not normally prone to house-wifely snippets, but here is one. If you heat up rhubarb slowly with a head of elderflower (when it's actually flowering, rather than as I've pictured it), it is delicious.

and nettle. I'm pretty certain this is White Dead Nettle, but I'm not about to go grabbing it to make sure.

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