This morning my friend Karen and I met up at the station to catch a train out to Brundall, a small station not so far along the line that goes to Reedham, at which point it splits in two, the left or north track going to Yarmouth, and the right or south track to Lowestoft. We'd planned our expedition about a week or so back but been meaning to take a day trip together for much longer but life gets filled up, and before you know it weeks, months, years have passed.
From Brundall we walked to Strumpshaw Fen, which I have visited a fair few times before but do not know so well as to say it is home territory. The birdsong was liquid bliss and there were geese honking and flying about and marsh harriers, male and female. We also heard a bittern booming, a strangely sinister call - I have never felt the same about them since I was told they eat marsh tits in their sleep, that seems pretty awful and ogre-ish. Karen could recognise some bird calls which was great, it's a skill I am still picking up and not good at at all.
The weather was a mix of cold wind and rain with hail in it, and beautiful bright spring sunshine. We were glad to be wrapped up but it was definitely hat on-hat off, zip up-zip down weather, which was quite refreshing.
We wandered all round just enjoying each other's company and the sights and sounds, Karen had her binoculars and I had my camera so every so often one or other of us would drift off into looking-looking-looking space for a little while.
I always feel like I need to apologise for my photos, I know so many good photographers that I feel like my pictures are not really all that, but hopefully they convey some sense of the feel of the day.