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… in the Compton Dundon, Somerset, area.

A friendly dog – which didn’t bark! The Hood Monument right.
I was going Butleigh-wards. And when I turned round from taking this photo…
… I was concerned I might have delightful but unwanted company, but he returned home.
Well, I like dandelions.
Cow parsley
A dandeliony thing, Greater hawks-beard I think.
Hart’s tongue fern (TH)
Pendulous sedge. It’s very pretty, but it’s wicked in my garden, seeding itself everywhere. And it seemed, sadly, to have done so on this walk. There was far too much of it, everywhere, in my view.
Nearing the (physical) high point of the afternoon.
I was tempted to go off at a tangent but didn’t.
The Hood Monument
The top of the monument reflects the activity of Samuel Hood, 1724-1816, local boy made good. His younger brother, Alexander, was also an Admiral, but I know of no monument to him.
In memory of
Sir Samuel Hood
Knight of the most Honourable Order of the Bath
and nominated Grand Cross thereof
Knight of St Ferdinand and of Merit
Knight Grand Cross of the Sword
Vice Admiral of the White
and Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Fleet
in the East Indies
View from the plinth, looking north. If it weren’t for the trees on the left, I could have seen my house. (It would be possible to see my house if one were allowed to climb to the top of the Monument, as I can see the latter from my front window.)
Wych elm, I think
Continuing downwards, I came to my kind of stile
Glastonbury and its Tor.

I had a choice at this point, to walk along a very busy road, or to enter a wood, where three years ago I had found carpets of bluebells.

There were no bluebells where I expected to find them. Either my memory was faulty or they had been stripped out. Or they had been suppressed by the acres of sedge that seemed to be everywhere. After a long while I did find some, but not in the swathes that I expected.

But happily they were English bluebells, with not a Spanish bluebell in sight, then or for the rest of my walk.

The wood felt magical and I found myself envious of the owner.

Impossible not to be aware of a great low-flying bird across my path. It settled in a tree to my left.

A buzzard!
Just look at that beak and those talons!

Then it flew off, to a much higher and much further tree, not yet covered in foliage.

Only on examining and enlarging my photos was I able to see that the tree, a cherry of some sort presumably, had blossom, a nice contrast with the fierceness of the bird.
My Ordnance Survey map indicated that this was, (in Gothic lettering so it was ancient), the ‘New Ditch’.
This inadvertent sculpture pleased me.
There are still many primroses around.
The steps are part of the Polden Way, quite recently established, but mine was the bridleway to the right
It looked easy and smooth
From the path I could just see an inaccessible mass of white flowers in green. As I suspected, they did turn out, thanks to the zoom on the camera, to be wild garlic, aka ransoms.
What promised to be a smooth and easy path was not always. Those ruts are 18 ins (45 cm) deep!
I was not tempted to swing from this beautiful tree, but zoomed in on a yellow sheen on the field.
It was a sheen of cowslips.
Herb Robert
The trouble with butterflies is that they flit about so. This was the best I could do to catch the Speckled wood.
All afternoon there had just been the odd sample of vetch, but towards the end I came across a bankful of the plant, with a co-operative bee.
And, as I only noticed once home, an ant as well. (Brown-banded Carder bee)
Nearly back to my car, this is the back of the local hostelry, with Dundon Hill behind. It has a Gothic lettering fort on it.

A very pleasant afternoon. And other than on the first road, I didn’t meet a soul.