Fog inland. Am at Barloge Tues eve and standing at the fence near the lobster pots looking out over the murmuring waters where all the moored boats are dozing. The tide moves toward the shore in finely grained ripples. It is hard to fathom the volume of water moving through the harbour and so near the huge sea. It is so quiet, no wind and so little noise from the water that I can clearly hear the quiet discussion between two men a few yards away on the landing. They are talking about the plague of slugs that have decimated the local vegetables. There is a lot of market gardeners in the area who rely on what their hard work and the soil and weather can deliver. The slugs come in great numbers at night and clean off the cabbages, lettuce and chard. .
White fox gloves. Unusual. They are usually hot pink.
It was a similar find here a couple of weeks ago; white Fuschia. As the name suggests, these are normally very strong red and purple in color. They grow wild and copiously along the roads and provide good thick wind protection not to mention great happiness for the bees.
More great happiness in the heady perfume that wafts from this flower, found wild along the road all over the place. Swoon!
Some gargantuan ornamentals that lend an air of primeval to the region.
The rain makes a big noise hitting the leaves.
Compare satellite views of mountains of West Virginia....
Later that night.........
Wet birds are fluttering in the dark in the big sycamore. Maybe bats too.
