The lawn looked remarkably flat this morning, after its trim yesterday evening. Blackbirds and starlings probed the mat for invertebrates and my back was not ever so bad, so happiness all round. A brief measure of panic when it was discovered that youngest was still in bed with three minutes to the bus, but mostly calm. I just wrote in the answer for a Guardian "tough" sudoku wondering as I often do how these puzzles are ranked and how often they print the ratings on the wrong one.
Slightly keen to have time for meeting preparation I considered for two seconds the sensible route to work, but how often is the weather so mellow and the light so luminous in the morning? So to the back roads. I fiddled with the radio as I left the village and, someone out there in FM land was playing Jimmy Somerville; swept back to the part of the 80's in which hope sprang eternal and the world was an exciting place. I knew I'd made the right choice.
Unfortunately many (well too many, but actually rather few) people had made the same calculation and so a certain amount of slowing and passing or diving into the rough was required to negotiate the usual long route to work. The sky filled the gap between horizons with blue only slightly punctuated by fluffy cloudlets. Ponies and donkeys dozed on the roads, letting in the day's heat before moving off to browse. The car said 18.5 degrees centigrade.
By the time I reached work the clouds had disolved, leaving only mares tails scratched into the heavens. Now however the clouds have slabbed and collected and are beginning to frown a little. Small islands of blue remain, but here at ground level the forecast is cooler with possible heavy showers. The radar shows rain from the West disolving before it reaches us.
Time I think for a brief walk, not too far from shelter and I can watch out for the red kite I pretended to not watch from the meeting. Distant gulls circle like motes in the clear light of a cloud gap, lit despite their darkening backdrop; there is a stillness.
Wednesday 16 July 2014
Tuesday 15 July 2014
Gatekeeper moment
I walked out last Thursday, down to watch a few yards of trout stream pass peacefully by in the sunshine. I was grabbing a little lunchtime exercise to relieve the stiffness from Wednesday badminton, but walking largely for my soul.
Insects and birds flew around as I descended the hill and crossed the meadow. First (ignoring for now the crows and jackdaws) a ringlet. As the trees drew back from the path a little and quaking grass and bramble were joined by thorn and fern, the meadow brown zone began.
The track turned, wooded to the right and fields to the left, with mature deciduous trees on boundaries. Here there was some excitement over a juvenile buzzard, mobbed by lazy crows that didn't appear threatened, just concerned to establish a pecking order. These shared the blue with seagulls.
In the meadow were mostly these two butterfly species, with an occasional white, a rarer peacock, a small blue? At the first dike the dragons began with a green darter of some sort. The demoiselles also showed with damsels too, a blue and a green and a red.
At the river the demoiselles were dense, flying over the banks and the hedges, skimming over the rippled flowing stream, keeping out of the range of the mouths of brown trout who beat their tails to maintain station in the races or patrol the pools, not yet rising.
I saw a red admiral here and little skippers. A brood of ducklings and five signets with a parent on regal patrol. There were more green damsels and a speckled moth which flashed a red underwing when disturbed. The second brood of commas were patrolling, bright and bold like fools' fritillaries.
At every flicker of brown and orange I watched for the characteristic pattern of the gatekeeper upper wing, but saw only the brown and eyed wings of meadow browns. (A marbled white on the way back up the hill).
On Saturday I was in my garden (a wild and wildlife friendly place if you must imagine it) and, of a sudden, was surrounded by gatekeepers. It was that moment of the year when the changeover happens, from meadow browns to gatekeepers. The 12th of July this year.
The hedgehog has been hiding, but the young robin is still chasing insects on the lawn. The slowworms are about. I dug one out of the compost heap whilst tidying a week ago and saw one basking in the morning on our rotting tree stump. Both of these examples, assuming they were different individuals looked like healthy fat females, so there are babies to anticipate.
I cut the lawn today. I've never known the sward so thick in July. We've had warmth and sunshine with just enough showers to keep everything growing. The apple trees have a fair crop, by numbers, but the sizes are well ahead of the last few years.
Insects and birds flew around as I descended the hill and crossed the meadow. First (ignoring for now the crows and jackdaws) a ringlet. As the trees drew back from the path a little and quaking grass and bramble were joined by thorn and fern, the meadow brown zone began.
The track turned, wooded to the right and fields to the left, with mature deciduous trees on boundaries. Here there was some excitement over a juvenile buzzard, mobbed by lazy crows that didn't appear threatened, just concerned to establish a pecking order. These shared the blue with seagulls.
In the meadow were mostly these two butterfly species, with an occasional white, a rarer peacock, a small blue? At the first dike the dragons began with a green darter of some sort. The demoiselles also showed with damsels too, a blue and a green and a red.
At the river the demoiselles were dense, flying over the banks and the hedges, skimming over the rippled flowing stream, keeping out of the range of the mouths of brown trout who beat their tails to maintain station in the races or patrol the pools, not yet rising.
I saw a red admiral here and little skippers. A brood of ducklings and five signets with a parent on regal patrol. There were more green damsels and a speckled moth which flashed a red underwing when disturbed. The second brood of commas were patrolling, bright and bold like fools' fritillaries.
At every flicker of brown and orange I watched for the characteristic pattern of the gatekeeper upper wing, but saw only the brown and eyed wings of meadow browns. (A marbled white on the way back up the hill).
On Saturday I was in my garden (a wild and wildlife friendly place if you must imagine it) and, of a sudden, was surrounded by gatekeepers. It was that moment of the year when the changeover happens, from meadow browns to gatekeepers. The 12th of July this year.
The hedgehog has been hiding, but the young robin is still chasing insects on the lawn. The slowworms are about. I dug one out of the compost heap whilst tidying a week ago and saw one basking in the morning on our rotting tree stump. Both of these examples, assuming they were different individuals looked like healthy fat females, so there are babies to anticipate.
I cut the lawn today. I've never known the sward so thick in July. We've had warmth and sunshine with just enough showers to keep everything growing. The apple trees have a fair crop, by numbers, but the sizes are well ahead of the last few years.
Wednesday 2 July 2014
Spiny stop out
Feeling that I should perhaps be whispering, lest the weather gods hear me and over-react, I might mention that we have had a summer already. No prevarication, no guessing - I name this weather summery and you cannot tell me I er'.
Some sailing has happened, though only by the slightest of dinghies. Very little gardening has happened (since I got depressed about the number of ticks in the garden at Easter). Some sad, but enevitable events have rocked our family about; leaving us still floating, but spinning gently.
Exams have struck the house. New toys (replacing old in most cases, such as the depature of our good and trusty friend DP). And, amongst the joys and woes, the rhythm of life continues with work and washing-up.
I had a good pile of stuff to wash yesterday morning, and the pleasure of watching the, still fresh looking, summer garden while it moved from right to left via the soapy sink. Under the yellow apple tree, some movement.
A rabbit I thought, a small cat? No, a hedgehog out and about collecting grass for nesting in the late dawn light. It combed the understraw, dragging balls of it out of sight (I guessed to shelter under the shed). In the deep shade of the low apple boughs a young robin bobbed; swooping down on the disturbed insects as the hog did her? work. The oranging breast hardly discernable in the low light, but given away by the dance, the flit, the swoop and hop of a robin - and nothing else quite.
The good weather and long sunny days have meant fewer sightings of reptiles, since their basking is done before I rise. I neither saw nor heard May bugs, though there were quite a few stag beetles about. We've been seeing a good variety of birds, including raptors. Plenty of bees and just recently I've seen more marbled whites than usual.
Some sailing has happened, though only by the slightest of dinghies. Very little gardening has happened (since I got depressed about the number of ticks in the garden at Easter). Some sad, but enevitable events have rocked our family about; leaving us still floating, but spinning gently.
Exams have struck the house. New toys (replacing old in most cases, such as the depature of our good and trusty friend DP). And, amongst the joys and woes, the rhythm of life continues with work and washing-up.
I had a good pile of stuff to wash yesterday morning, and the pleasure of watching the, still fresh looking, summer garden while it moved from right to left via the soapy sink. Under the yellow apple tree, some movement.
A rabbit I thought, a small cat? No, a hedgehog out and about collecting grass for nesting in the late dawn light. It combed the understraw, dragging balls of it out of sight (I guessed to shelter under the shed). In the deep shade of the low apple boughs a young robin bobbed; swooping down on the disturbed insects as the hog did her? work. The oranging breast hardly discernable in the low light, but given away by the dance, the flit, the swoop and hop of a robin - and nothing else quite.
The good weather and long sunny days have meant fewer sightings of reptiles, since their basking is done before I rise. I neither saw nor heard May bugs, though there were quite a few stag beetles about. We've been seeing a good variety of birds, including raptors. Plenty of bees and just recently I've seen more marbled whites than usual.
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