We are on our way to Reading, it is a beautiful bright sunny day, 13 degrees. The roadside verges are speckled with dandelions and daisies, and right on the road edge I saw a clump of coltsfoot with more than ten golden yellow flowers lifting their faces to the sun and bringing an instant smile to my face. Near Hertford we passed the largest area of celandines I think I have ever seen, glowing brightly in the spring sunlight. Many trees are now wearing their fresh green spring coats, along the roadsides there are lots of beautiful white blossom trees --- sloe, I think, dazzling forsythias crowd spectacularly over garden fences and here and there an early cherry blossom stands out pinkly and proudly amongst the other trees, in places the yellow flowers of gorse, shine out brightly from great big bushes of darkly green black prickly foliage. The pussy willows are big fat golden balls of pollen and the catkins dangle enticingly, waiting for the wind to catch them and blow their pollen on to the tiny red female flowers, tucked tightly against the hazel stems. Sycamores are bursting their big fat red buds and out of them are unfolding the most magical green and shiny leaves.
I feel blessed by the warmth of the sun today, as its welcome rays reach through the car window; we haven’t seen enough sun for the last few months. Someone gave me some frog and toad spawn I bore it gently and happily home splitting it between the two ponds and three very large containers, a little in each. Within days I noticed a blackbird balanced on one of the silver birch branches placed across and just under the water of the pond, these branches were placed there firstly because I read they help to keep the water fresh and secondly more were added to enable the birds to drink and bathe more easily, but this blackbird was using them to eat the frogs spawn nearby, fortunately when I checked the day before I found most of the tadpoles had already left their jelly ball homes.
There are long stretches and clumps of narcissus along the road verges, they are a joy to see. I love it when people put them on the outer edges of their boundaries and even opposite their homes; they are such a bright and welcome sight. I first did this more than 45 years ago when we moved to this area, and have kept it up whenever we have moved. I have had so much pleasure from the blooms and hope passersby have also enjoyed their yellow springtime splendour.
The willow trees are breathtakingly beautiful at the moment with their long streamers of fresh green and just showing through them is the dark shape and form of their branches and trunks. While the tall trees are still bare look out for large round clumps of hanging mistletoe dangling from the upper branches, this used to be quite a rare sight but has now become quite common and can easily be spotted at the moment. Primroses are abundant now, but keep an eye open for early cowslips just appearing, an old name for these pretty flowers is peggles.
Monday, 26 April 2010
Sunday, 25 April 2010
River Walk with Kingcups
Down to the river where clouds of midges hang heavy round our heads and lay in sheets just above the water – more midges than I have ever seen before.
Daisies, dandelions, blue and white violets, narcissi and celandines prettied the riverside and in a field grew large clumps of delicate ladies smock, all the same beautiful pale pink except for one plant of pure white flowers.
Across the river cascading down the bank and growing up into the bushes alongside the path is a periwinkle, deep blue with surprisingly large flowers, further on we found another periwinkle, low-growing and creeping over the ground, still blue, but much paler and with smaller flowers, just as pretty as its larger cousin though.
At the river’s edge, we spied a clump of marsh marigolds. I have never seen them here before and hope nobody digs them up for their garden, because they look beautiful growing by the river’s edge, and it would be excellent to watch this patch of eye-catching, bright and deep golden flowers grow larger year on year.
Marsh marigolds, or kingcups as I know them, grow in damp places. They are thought to be one of the longest established British plants as they would have thrived in the meltwaters at the end of the ice-ages. They are a member of the buttercup family and have many other names: mayflower, may blobs, molly blobs, polly blobs, horse blobs, water blobs, water bubbles, Gollins and the publican, but I still think kingcups is the best name. They hold a special place in my heart because when I was a small child my father came home from work one evening, came through the back door his top half hardly visible for he was carrying the largest bunch of kingcups imaginable. They filled our hearth for what seemed like ages and I could not take my eyes off them. I saw a beautiful picture of them by Keith Edkins online.
The highlight of our walk was seeing a heron balancing on round scaffolding-like side of a bridge, watching the river for fish. We were within ten feet and he must have been aware of us, but took no notice and we stood in awe and wonder, admiring him.
Daisies, dandelions, blue and white violets, narcissi and celandines prettied the riverside and in a field grew large clumps of delicate ladies smock, all the same beautiful pale pink except for one plant of pure white flowers.
Across the river cascading down the bank and growing up into the bushes alongside the path is a periwinkle, deep blue with surprisingly large flowers, further on we found another periwinkle, low-growing and creeping over the ground, still blue, but much paler and with smaller flowers, just as pretty as its larger cousin though.
At the river’s edge, we spied a clump of marsh marigolds. I have never seen them here before and hope nobody digs them up for their garden, because they look beautiful growing by the river’s edge, and it would be excellent to watch this patch of eye-catching, bright and deep golden flowers grow larger year on year.
Marsh marigolds, or kingcups as I know them, grow in damp places. They are thought to be one of the longest established British plants as they would have thrived in the meltwaters at the end of the ice-ages. They are a member of the buttercup family and have many other names: mayflower, may blobs, molly blobs, polly blobs, horse blobs, water blobs, water bubbles, Gollins and the publican, but I still think kingcups is the best name. They hold a special place in my heart because when I was a small child my father came home from work one evening, came through the back door his top half hardly visible for he was carrying the largest bunch of kingcups imaginable. They filled our hearth for what seemed like ages and I could not take my eyes off them. I saw a beautiful picture of them by Keith Edkins online.
The highlight of our walk was seeing a heron balancing on round scaffolding-like side of a bridge, watching the river for fish. We were within ten feet and he must have been aware of us, but took no notice and we stood in awe and wonder, admiring him.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Flora and Fauna of the M4
Off to Reading. The verges are more yellow than green, there are so many dandelions in flower. Dark red ornamental fruit trees have joined the white and pink ones already blooming, while more of the bare trees are covered with fresh green new leaves.
Here and there pretty pink and white apple blossom shows on trees, which have obviously sprung from apple cores tossed out of car windows.
Yellow mahonias have joined the yellow gorse.
On the A414, between Hertford and Welwyn, in a field on the right-hand side, just before the Welwyn sign post, there is an amazing row of dead oak trees standing starkly bare, aged and awe-inspiring. How did they all die at once? I would love to photograph them – they are so interesting and visually compelling.
In places, daisies replace or merge with dandelions.
Sometimes, miles from the long stretches and deliberately planted clumps of narcissi, stands a solitary one.
Verges are also prettied with bright tulips standing as tall and straight as soldiers on parade, proudly showing off their blooms.
I kept my eyes shut for miles, listening to Coldplay and the sound of the engine. When I opened them again we were on the M25, and it was to see the desecration caused by the felling for mile upon mile of the young saplings and brush. These same saplings that had been carefully planted and nurtured some years ago, now lay in piles, either as wood chips or as waiting to be chipped. I wonder how long it will be before yet more money is spent on replanting. I do not understand why this has happened.
Here and there are drifts and clumps of wildflowers: primroses, the aforementioned dandelions, daisies and cowslips (peggles). There is also a beautiful drift of blue – not deep enough, and too bright to be bluebells, also leaves wrongly-shaped – I wonder what they were?
The sky that for the last two days has been clear blue, is today showing drifts of small soft, fluffy clouds.
In a field, just before we join the M4, I saw a herd of brown and white ponies, and standing by one of them was the smallest foal I have ever seen.
On the left-hand side, as we joined the M4, we were greeted by a glittering lake, and behind it a huge steel warehouse, the sunlight reflecting brightly off its roof. While on the right-hand side a grove of very tall trees, with immense globes of mistletoe suspended from their upper branches.
In a field further along, was a string of sheep, strung out rather than in the usual flock. I enjoyed looking at them until a wooden fence blocked my view.
On the right, a field of travelers had set up home.
A steep embankment was totally covered with oil seed rape, the first time I have seen it in that quantity near the motorway.
The hedges are growing wildly, the bottom halves almost totally bare, but the top half big and bushy. Why do we not bring back hedgers and ditchers? A worthy and honourable trade – they layered the hedges, causing them to grow thickly right from the base to the top, and out ditches were kept clean, clear of weeds and properly dug out, causing a freeway for flood water, which would provide the answer to some of the water build up at very wet times. Drains and ditches kept clear would doubtless help the situation.
Passing a bluebell wood, I could just make out the faintest haze of blue – we need to return in a week or two to fully appreciate it.
Ironically, we are now passing an area where hundreds of new trees have been planted. It is an especially beautiful place as along the whole stretch wild primroses have carpeted the ground.
On the left, a field of beautiful white horses, while on the right two fields of our favourite sturdy white ponies.
Here and there pretty pink and white apple blossom shows on trees, which have obviously sprung from apple cores tossed out of car windows.
Yellow mahonias have joined the yellow gorse.
On the A414, between Hertford and Welwyn, in a field on the right-hand side, just before the Welwyn sign post, there is an amazing row of dead oak trees standing starkly bare, aged and awe-inspiring. How did they all die at once? I would love to photograph them – they are so interesting and visually compelling.
In places, daisies replace or merge with dandelions.
Sometimes, miles from the long stretches and deliberately planted clumps of narcissi, stands a solitary one.
Verges are also prettied with bright tulips standing as tall and straight as soldiers on parade, proudly showing off their blooms.
I kept my eyes shut for miles, listening to Coldplay and the sound of the engine. When I opened them again we were on the M25, and it was to see the desecration caused by the felling for mile upon mile of the young saplings and brush. These same saplings that had been carefully planted and nurtured some years ago, now lay in piles, either as wood chips or as waiting to be chipped. I wonder how long it will be before yet more money is spent on replanting. I do not understand why this has happened.
Here and there are drifts and clumps of wildflowers: primroses, the aforementioned dandelions, daisies and cowslips (peggles). There is also a beautiful drift of blue – not deep enough, and too bright to be bluebells, also leaves wrongly-shaped – I wonder what they were?
The sky that for the last two days has been clear blue, is today showing drifts of small soft, fluffy clouds.
In a field, just before we join the M4, I saw a herd of brown and white ponies, and standing by one of them was the smallest foal I have ever seen.
On the left-hand side, as we joined the M4, we were greeted by a glittering lake, and behind it a huge steel warehouse, the sunlight reflecting brightly off its roof. While on the right-hand side a grove of very tall trees, with immense globes of mistletoe suspended from their upper branches.
In a field further along, was a string of sheep, strung out rather than in the usual flock. I enjoyed looking at them until a wooden fence blocked my view.
On the right, a field of travelers had set up home.
A steep embankment was totally covered with oil seed rape, the first time I have seen it in that quantity near the motorway.
The hedges are growing wildly, the bottom halves almost totally bare, but the top half big and bushy. Why do we not bring back hedgers and ditchers? A worthy and honourable trade – they layered the hedges, causing them to grow thickly right from the base to the top, and out ditches were kept clean, clear of weeds and properly dug out, causing a freeway for flood water, which would provide the answer to some of the water build up at very wet times. Drains and ditches kept clear would doubtless help the situation.
Passing a bluebell wood, I could just make out the faintest haze of blue – we need to return in a week or two to fully appreciate it.
Ironically, we are now passing an area where hundreds of new trees have been planted. It is an especially beautiful place as along the whole stretch wild primroses have carpeted the ground.
On the left, a field of beautiful white horses, while on the right two fields of our favourite sturdy white ponies.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Females Quack Too
The first clump of bluebells is in full bloom – English bluebells, so blue and beautifully fragrant.
I saw the heron lift off from the garden and wondered how many fish he has stolen to eat. Perhaps I do him an injustice, but he does not usually come here for my pleasure – although pleasure it is, I feel, when I watch him up close and marvel at his elegance and beauty.
I have read that only male mallard ducks quack. I would like to refute this as through the years I have many times heard a female quack – always in times of great stress. Other than that there are times such as when she is with her babies when her voice can be heard. It is a quiet, pleasant and quite musical sound.
I saw the heron lift off from the garden and wondered how many fish he has stolen to eat. Perhaps I do him an injustice, but he does not usually come here for my pleasure – although pleasure it is, I feel, when I watch him up close and marvel at his elegance and beauty.
I have read that only male mallard ducks quack. I would like to refute this as through the years I have many times heard a female quack – always in times of great stress. Other than that there are times such as when she is with her babies when her voice can be heard. It is a quiet, pleasant and quite musical sound.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Harrassed Duck
Today, I was lucky to see, all at the same time, a male blackcap, male blackbird and a great tit, all bathing in the pond, while a little wren perched nearby. I was also pleased to see a short-tailed field vole running around on the bank today, in the warm sunshine.
The tadpoles are interesting. I check their progress daily. I have found those living in the sunniest areas, that is with the warmest naturally heated water, are the most lively and are developing the quickest. In the two ponds, they are still at risk from predators, but in any of the other containers. So I shall find it fascinating to continue monitoring their progress.
Our poor female duck has clearly lost her first clutch of eggs. She continues to spend her days by the pond, but is dreadfully harried by stray males. Years ago, we had plenty of female mallards in the area, but now they seem to be so reduced in number that life is a constant worry for the females. No matter how hard she tries to hide, stray males enter the garden, wander about, poke their heads under bushes, seeking and usually finding her. Our female mallard becomes very distressed at being constantly harangued, often by two or three males at once, and we have, on occasion, seen five or six. If we are in the garden, she will hurry toward us for protection, and if we see from the window and go outside she stays still while we clap our hands and cause her ardent pursuers to fly away.
The tadpoles are interesting. I check their progress daily. I have found those living in the sunniest areas, that is with the warmest naturally heated water, are the most lively and are developing the quickest. In the two ponds, they are still at risk from predators, but in any of the other containers. So I shall find it fascinating to continue monitoring their progress.
Our poor female duck has clearly lost her first clutch of eggs. She continues to spend her days by the pond, but is dreadfully harried by stray males. Years ago, we had plenty of female mallards in the area, but now they seem to be so reduced in number that life is a constant worry for the females. No matter how hard she tries to hide, stray males enter the garden, wander about, poke their heads under bushes, seeking and usually finding her. Our female mallard becomes very distressed at being constantly harangued, often by two or three males at once, and we have, on occasion, seen five or six. If we are in the garden, she will hurry toward us for protection, and if we see from the window and go outside she stays still while we clap our hands and cause her ardent pursuers to fly away.
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Pigeons
The pigeons have nested again. I was standing admiring the new buds on a low-hanging branch of an ornamental tree, when as I turned, there, right by my face, was a pigeon, sitting on her nest in the mahonia. The nest was not at all tucked away, but very visible. I must have walked and stood by it so many times without even noticing.
It was very strange; I was less than six inches from her. We stared at each other for several minutes, but she took no notice of me at all. I suppose it is because she is No Tail’s partner, and has lived in the garden, nested and bred here for some years and is very used to us. I said aloud to her: “Okay, so you’re going to be a mum again, then I’d better let you feed with all my other birds, instead of clapping my hands at you”. She took no notice, of course. Now I feed her and No Tail along with the rest of the feathered and furred friends.
A new pair of pigeons tried to nest in a tall goldenish conifer in the garden, but No Tail would have none of it. He spends quite a lot of his time chasing them from the garden, and especially from the food should they dare to approach it.
It was very strange; I was less than six inches from her. We stared at each other for several minutes, but she took no notice of me at all. I suppose it is because she is No Tail’s partner, and has lived in the garden, nested and bred here for some years and is very used to us. I said aloud to her: “Okay, so you’re going to be a mum again, then I’d better let you feed with all my other birds, instead of clapping my hands at you”. She took no notice, of course. Now I feed her and No Tail along with the rest of the feathered and furred friends.
A new pair of pigeons tried to nest in a tall goldenish conifer in the garden, but No Tail would have none of it. He spends quite a lot of his time chasing them from the garden, and especially from the food should they dare to approach it.
Friday, 16 April 2010
Sleeping Deer
We have been delighted to watch the deer for hours every day recently, cropping the flowers, weeds and grass indiscriminately, and pruning the apple tree to her head-stretch height.
Today, I drew the back bedroom curtains to find her on the bank, legs folded under her and fast asleep. From time to time she appeared in the garden and each time I noticed her gone went and checked, every time she was again settled in the same place on the bank. Once a pheasant was settled by her, and another time a blackbird was busily pecking and scratching for food nearby, but she took no notice of them, not they of her.
Today, I drew the back bedroom curtains to find her on the bank, legs folded under her and fast asleep. From time to time she appeared in the garden and each time I noticed her gone went and checked, every time she was again settled in the same place on the bank. Once a pheasant was settled by her, and another time a blackbird was busily pecking and scratching for food nearby, but she took no notice of them, not they of her.
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Odd Duck
Our female duck is back, the male in tow, quacking and fussing all around her. She has to have lost her first nest – maybe to the fox, because she is once again here all day long, every day.
Today, finishing off some embroidery, I heard a tap, tap, tapping on the patio door, looking up I saw our female duck sitting on the top step, stretching her neck and tapping on the glass. I waved to her and went to the kitchen, by the time I had arrived there, she was already waiting. I reached out and poured half a plastic beaker of birdseed out of the window on to the path for her. Next I fetched two slices of wholemeal bread, well water-soaked to break up and toss out to her. His majesty stands deferentially behind his wife as she eats, only snatching leftover food as he follows her to the pond, once she is satiated. He has grown very good at catching water-soaked bread pieces, which I throw to him as he patiently waits behind her.
This time I left her eating and returned to the lounge – no sooner had I sat down and picked up my embroidery than she was back on the top step, tap, tap, tapping at the window again.
She cannot have finished so much, so soon, I thought, as she continued tapping. I stood up, went into the kitchen, leaned out of the window, and there she was still tapping, while the male was finishing the food.
I called and called, but to no avail. She stayed where she was. I went back to my embroidery and easy chair, she tapped the window – I waved to her, she settled down, tucked her head round her back on her wing, and went to sleep. “Well, what was all that about?” I mused. “Perhaps she just wanted to say thank you”, said another voice from the other easy chair.
Today, finishing off some embroidery, I heard a tap, tap, tapping on the patio door, looking up I saw our female duck sitting on the top step, stretching her neck and tapping on the glass. I waved to her and went to the kitchen, by the time I had arrived there, she was already waiting. I reached out and poured half a plastic beaker of birdseed out of the window on to the path for her. Next I fetched two slices of wholemeal bread, well water-soaked to break up and toss out to her. His majesty stands deferentially behind his wife as she eats, only snatching leftover food as he follows her to the pond, once she is satiated. He has grown very good at catching water-soaked bread pieces, which I throw to him as he patiently waits behind her.
This time I left her eating and returned to the lounge – no sooner had I sat down and picked up my embroidery than she was back on the top step, tap, tap, tapping at the window again.
She cannot have finished so much, so soon, I thought, as she continued tapping. I stood up, went into the kitchen, leaned out of the window, and there she was still tapping, while the male was finishing the food.
I called and called, but to no avail. She stayed where she was. I went back to my embroidery and easy chair, she tapped the window – I waved to her, she settled down, tucked her head round her back on her wing, and went to sleep. “Well, what was all that about?” I mused. “Perhaps she just wanted to say thank you”, said another voice from the other easy chair.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
By The River
Perhaps the best part of our walk was watching the heron standing on the side of a bridge, scanning for fish. Why does one never have a camera at the right time, then another hundred times carry it and see nothing? We saw two young men in rowing boats, oars shelved, eating their meals off plates wedged on the boat bottom between their feet, using their knives and forks as if in a fine dining room. We saw them again, later, food finished, plates stowed away, each contentedly leaning back at his end of the boat, oars shelved and the boat just drifting. They looked very contented. We exchanged banter about the millions of midges.
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