Walk on the wild side

What a difference a week makes! Yesterday's torrential rains and tempestuous winds have left significantly cooler temperatures in their wake, making it almost unimaginable that only a week ago we were able to have breakfast in the garden.

Saturdays are synonymous with Jos's cooked breakfasts, so we took our plates of bacon omelettes to our little corner in the courtyard, using the barrel as a side table for our butter dish and coffee pot.

My outfit that day was based around one of the infamous missing dresses which I'd unearthed from that overlooked suitcase. With its vibrant orange, pink, navy and white plaid pattern, it is the perfect dress for a sunny day spent in the garden. Plus, it has pockets!

I pinned a pink owl brooch to its collar, added a pink beaded necklace and wore a raffia belt at my waist. The red slingbacks are Clarks and were picked up in a charity shop in Bridgnorth during last June's blogger meet-up with Vix and Jon. 

In spite of the gorgeous weather, I was feeling a bit blue that day, which I tried to alleviate by planting out the new stuff we'd brought home from the garden centre on Friday. 

My spirits more or less restored, I caught up with blog reading and commenting after lunch, and then worked on my new blog post, which I would publish that evening.

Then it was back into the garden for a another watering session, while being spied upon by a panther hiding among the ferns. I admired the abundantly flowering lilac Lobelias in the passageway and was overjoyed to see that the first flower had opened in our Geranium 'Rozanne', one of the hardy Geraniums I'd planted back in April.

Tired of spending almost all our time at home, apart from my office days and our weekly trips to the garden centre, we were determined to go for a ramble on Sunday.

Due to the restrictions, it had been months since we'd been for a proper walk. Initially, at the start of Belgium's lockdown light, we hadn't been allowed to go for non-essential drives, so that we could only go for local walks. This rather limited our options and, not surprisingly, our local green spaces were far too crowded for comfort, so that we avoided them like the plague.

Last Sunday, a couple of weeks after these restrictions had been lifted, we thought it safe to drive a bit further afield, reasoning that most people would have been bored of walking by now. 

Our destination of choice was our favourite nature reserve, Blaasveldbroek, which is about a thirty minute drive from where we are. Those of you who have been following my blog for a while have visited this magical place with me many a time.

The reserve, which comprises about 675 hectares, is a watery wonderland of marshland, brooks, ponds and lakes, the majority of which is only two to three metres above sea level.

Our hearts made huge leaps of joy the minute we stepped out of the car and, armed with our faithful walking sticks and a picnic, we set off among the meandering sandy paths, bordered by reeds through which the first of the tranquil, tree-bordered ponds could be glimpsed.

The scent of early Summer was carried by a gentle breeze, the pollen rich air tickling our nostrils.

We sighed contentedly as it was utter bliss to be walking these paths again, with only the calls of the birds and the polyphonic buzzing of insects for company.

At intervals, other walkers crossed our path, but as we had opted to stay away from the well-trodden paths, we were mostly on our own.

We took our time to stand and stare and enjoy the wide variety of wildflowers growing here, including the pink delights of Ragged Robin, Red Campion and Herb Robert, frothy white Cow Parsley and cheerful yellow Flag Iris.

A mighty chorus of frogs accompanied us until we drew nearer, and it suddenly quietened down.

Peering over the railing of one of the wooden jetties placed at intervals over one of the brooks, we spotted several of the cleverly camouflaged creatures, one or two making leaps of faith into the weedy water.

The sun hid behind the clouds once or twice, but she soon re-appeared, shining brightly in a picture perfect blue sky dotted with equally picturesque cotton wool clouds.

A faint rumbling in our stomachs made us realize it was past lunch time, so we retraced our steps to a bench we'd passed earlier to have an illicit picnic. Incredulously, until a couple of days ago, people weren't allowed to sit down anywhere - on a bench or otherwise -  even at the required distance from others or if there was no one else around for miles. As we were of the opinion that this was a completely ludicrous restriction, especially in an almost deserted nature reserve, we couldn't care less and sat down anyway.

The flower meadow print of my dress attracted many a buzzing insect, not all of them completely harmless, so I kept on my lightweight pink cardi to deter them, even if it was warm enough to go without. My sunhat and sunnies (€ 0,50 charity shopped Rodenstock frames with prescription lenses) were essentials, as was the eternal hand sanitizer in my red vintage cross-body bag.

The pink floral trainers - a rare pair without those ubiquitous ugly white soles - were a Shrewsbury charity shop find last June.

Near the end of our walk we came across a bench with a magical view across a tranquil lake, where we daringly sat down to rest our weary feet and backs, while watching the antics of a couple of nesting coots.

I'm not sure if there were any baby coots as yet, but Daddy Coot was in the process of dragging along a fairly long blade of grass to the island nest, where Mama Coot was patiently waiting his return.

After taking endless photographs with my proper camera, here I am crouched down at the lakeside, taking some with my phone's camera. Funnily enough, the one below turned out to be the best of the bunch.

Sunshine, blue sky, wispy clouds and a waterlily lake: at that blissful moment in time it was the best view in the world.

And then I just knew that all will be fine in the end.