Rain. And with it, flooding. It’s quite rare to have a whole day of rain start to finish, with a persistence that fills your ears with drumming and your mind with melancholy. But we had that day yesterday, and the corresponding rise in water levels today has left the Trail in a semi-aquatic state. Walking along the boardwalks feels as though you’re floating on the surface of a swamp, surrounded by a canvas of still water which generously gives equal prominence to the sky, clouds and trees it perfectly captures in its reflections and the clumps of sodden vegetation lurking just under the surface. The plants don’t mind the rain, and nor apparently do snails. Hundreds of them came out to enjoy the deluge, many of them absolutely tiny, smaller than the nail on your little finger, but perfect mimics of their larger counterparts. The beautifully lacquered shells did not suffer because of their miniaturisation, in fact it just highlighted the delicacy and intricacy of nature’s design.
The woodland birds, having spent the whole of yesterday sheltering as best they could from the elements, were today singing with renewed vigour. The morning started with the explosive bursts of Cetti’s warblers, letting forth their unmistakable song with a vigour that implies they couldn’t hold it any longer.