Category: David

Different shades of pale: white from snowberries which were growing in front of the grey whiskery seeds of an old mans beard.

Long-tailed tit which kept flying from branch to branch every few seconds, half hidden among the twigs.

Mistletoe growing in several balls on a tree by the Avon at Stratford, reflected in the calm river on a windless day.

Small flock of starlings which kept taking wing to move a few yards in search of richer pickings in a sheep field on Dover’s Hill on the Cotswold scarp slope.

Thistle hugging the ground, its leaves forming the spokes of a circle.

Tufted duck drake on Anglers Pool at Perton, watching me, ready to come if any bread had been in prospect.