A Year on the North Lancing Bridleway; monthly archive
March on the North Lancing Bridleway | Andy Brook Blogs
Life on the edge of the South Downs often presents a shift in perspective when the seasons turn. While March winds may bring April showers, today the bright, mild days have given way to a heavy damp and fog as I walk the bridleway. In these nature observations, I’ve noticed the fog acts as a physical boundary, closing off the aural experience except for the most local emanations—the best of which is the rhythmic drumming of a Woodpecker nearby.
Plant growth is well underway now, evidenced by the emerging Bluebells and Three-Cornered Leek (Garlic). There is a lush green pulse to the Nettle and Elderberry growth, while Spurge—a garden escapee—makes a splendid architectural sight against the grey mist.
The heavy winter rains have eroded the centre of the path towards Manor Park, revealing the stones and flints that underpin everything. These are the "bones" of our landscape, a reminder of the ancient community stories that have traveled this same chalky route for centuries.
While I have seen Brimstones, Whites, and Bumble Bees elsewhere, I have not spotted any along this stretch so far this year. Yet, the stillness of the fog provides its own reward. No matter how busy the day is or how heavy the weight of world events, I always stop here. My philosophical reflections lead me to one conclusion: to truly experience all that Nature gives, you must first be still. In this space, we become grounded.
February on the North Lancing Bridleway | Andy Brook Blogs
I’ve decided to do something a bit different for 2026: a Sussex nature diary documenting my monthly walks along the North Lancing Bridleway. It’s a path I know inside out, sitting just west of McIntyres Field and tucked above Manor Park.
I’m usually here twice a day. Over the next year, I want to document the seasonal changes of this landscape, from the local wildlife to those small, unexpected details you only notice when you’re really looking.
It’s mid-February now, and because the winter has been so mild and wet, the Lancing flora feels 'forward.' Spring is impatient; I’ve already spotted Violets peeking out and the first leaves of Lords and Ladies. There are even some Summer Snowflakes—garden escapes—joining the wilder plants.
One of the best things about the bare winter trees is seeing the 'bones' of the path. I’ve been studying the ancient flint wall; covered in beautiful lichen and framed by thick ivy, it makes the history of this Sussex coast path feel very present.
Standing there, I wonder how many journeys started on this exact patch? It’s just that sort of place."
The First Pulse
Ancient flint wrapped in ivy’s green hold,
Where violets wake before the frost is old.
I walk the rhythm of the rider’s ghost,
A daily guest upon this Sussex coast,
Where every journey finds its quiet start.
