The lovers
Inching along the crest of the hillside I approached ‘the hole’ with some trepidation. A somewhat optimistic visit a few weeks earlier had revealed that someone had used a tractor with a rotary cutter to flail the bramble and blackthorn to the ground and deep into the boundary hedge. To say I was a tadge cross would be to put it mildly, I may have even said a naughty word. This after all is ‘the hidden place’ that I’ve sworn to secrecy and as it is one of the few remaining spots in Wiltshire where it is possible to see good numbers of Duke of Burgundy Hamearis lucina and no people, other than the occasional dog walker, it is my entirely selfish intention to keep it so.