The tall reeds which fringe the mere have spread in both directions. Landward they invaded the ground occupied by willows and elders, and have even pushed their blades through the bramble tangle. In the deep water they are reaching up amongst the floating lily leaves, where the white flowers rest on the rippling water and the yellow lilies reach a little higher, as if anxious to keep their petals dry. Amongst the inner reeds, growing from marshy ground but not actually with roots submerged, two handsome plants, in no ways related though sharing a common name, are now fully out; the dense whorls and spikes of the purple loosestrife stand side by side with the more widespread heads of the yellow loosestrife. In the centre of the reed-bed the great spearworts, finest of all the buttercups, are appearing, but we must wait a week or two before they are at their best.
If most of the abundant blossom turns to fruit the blackberry season will be an excellent one, and already the wild raspberries are full of sweeter, larger berries than we have seen for years; in one wood the straggling canes, covered with delicious fruit, grow amongst and wave over the loosestrifes and reeds.
Birds are moving, slowly drifting towards the south. I hear from a close observer of one inland water of the return of the green sandpiper, the massing of little parties of common sandpipers, and of terns halting to feed on their cross-country travels from sea to sea. These are early signs of the great autumn change of direction in avian movement, the southward drift towards winter quarters.
