Well, the first two stages were managed successfully: I did indeed get to Foxhill Farm, and I did split open some likely-looking tussocks. Part three turned out to be the tricky bit and after ten minutes I had found nowt, nothing, zilch, bugger all; my collecting tubes displayed the unadulterated quintessence of nihility.
But the weather was holding and the twigs of an ash tree formed an unmistakable silhouette against the clear but steely grey sky.
The stubby twigs of ash with their soot-black buds are unmistakable.
Foxhill Farm, Badby. 29 December, 2019
Hoping not to be seen. A tiny specimen of Xysticus cristatus tries to blend
in with soil crumbs. Foxhill Farm, 29 December, 2019
There were lots of 16-spot Ladybirds at the foot of a fence post.
Foxhill Farm, 29 December, 2019