HERE COME THE OLYMPICS (IT'S SURPRISING WHAT YOU SEE BEYOND THE UNDERGROWTH!)

Do you know the story of Burglar Bill by Alan and Janet Ahlberg? When Burglar Bill goes into a house to steal, he takes more or less anything his eye falls on. "That's a nice toothbrush," he says. "I'll have that." As he dips in and out of other people's houses, liking the things he sees, he gathers up not only a toothbrush and a tin of beans but a box - with a baby inside. Never mind if you're seventy. You'll enjoy it.

Sometimes, when I go out with my camera, I have a similar approach. "That's a nice flower," I say to myself. "I think I'll have that!" Snap! Today, 'having that' turned up a surprising surprise.

Off I went.

That's a nice Convolvulus flower, I think I'll have that. Oh, look, there's an oak leaf, the ripening burrs of goose grass, blackberry leaves too.

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There's some nice Viper's Bugloss. I think I'll have that!

After all, it is the prettiest of flowers.

Plod, plod, plod. If the Council hadn't cut the verge when it did, there would have been lots. Never mind, here's a small crowd.

Here's a nice fly. I think I'll have that!

Here's a nice snail. I think I'll have that too!

Here are some nice flags . . . here are rather a lot of flags!

Beyond the Blackberries

I don't just take pictures of flowers, I like the colours and shapes of other things too. Boats and wires and sea and blackberry bushes and . . . flags!

I'm not an Olympic kind of person. The nearest I've got is to try, three times, to find out if the Olympic Torch will pass the Elderberry Bush we are following. Still not clear about this. It may . . . but, if it does, I think it might be in a van. Doesn't seem quite right - carting it about in a van. We'll see. Van . . .

Beyond the flowers of Rape Plants

. . . The Greek Olympic Sailing Team. (Above)

The Alexanders are going to seed . . . beyond them . . .

One of the German Olympic Sailing Team cars on the left.

And the Turkish Olympic Sailing Team are here too. (The white van.)

For a reason I can't explain, I can feel excitement rising. A row of flags. Vans and cars parked by the sea. Is it possible that the sight of these is making me look forward to it just a little?

The Olympians were visiting a local sailing club. The Sailing Academy, home base for the Sailing Olympics is over there, below the big lump of land which is Portland.

But Loose and Leafy is a nature blog so I'd probably better bung in . . . what's nice . . . Comfrey?

June 2nd

Yes, I think I'll have that!

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FLOWERS IN THE PARK

Leaves tremble. It's a nuisance when you want to take pictures of them but they can't be persuaded to stop. Flowers - the light reflects from their petals and produces white blodges. Sometimes, you have to take several shots before they come out 'right'. The good thing about hedgerows though, I've been thinking, is that the plants there are tough and there are lots of them. This is generally an easy blog. I potter along, take some photos, come home, puzzle about what to miss out when I've seen so many interesting things and . . . post! Delicate plants are not for me.

'Delicate', I've tended to think, is a sort of synonym for 'exotic'. I've never met an orchid but I expect they count. Certainly, there are fewer orchids in the fields than nettles.

Hardly an orchid!
Groudsel growing in through the substantial gap between the roundabout and the grass.
Growing in the same gap as the groundsel (above).
June 17th 2012

As you can tell, my thinking was muddled (exotic = delicate = rare = hard to photo; common = easy) when I decided to take pictures of plants in a park.
I didn't expect much of a challenge. After all, most plants which grow wild in parks are counted as weeds. I'd see what I could find, click - and be done.

Cut-leaved Crane's-bill (Geranium dissectum)
June 17th 2012

'Park' is a loose word for the place I chose. It's more like a field with slides and swings plonked down in it.

I don't yet know what this is.
It's like pineapple mayweed only more substantial and without the smell.

One basket ball net - one. One goal post for five a side - one! (What kind of sports did the designers have in mind?) There's a roundabout and a jiggly version of a seesaw on a spring. Every so often someone comes along and mows the grass. In the meantime, it can grow quite tall, not tall-tall but, away from the trampled areas, it's about eight inches high at present. This, I say with approval. Too much mowing is a bad thing. I reckon. Short grass is alright when kept in its place. Too much and it's boring.

White Clover (Trifolium repens) in the grass.

(I know it's not white all the way through

but that's one of its characteristics - 

that this kind of clover can have pink petals mixed in.)

People with tanks of weed killer used to come and spray it but I haven't seen any recently so maybe they've stopped. There's a picnic table and a bench. Children swing on the swings and clamber about on the frame that leads to the slide. It's not an abandoned playground, not in the least, but it is, to my eyes, bleak . . . even though there's a large expanse of grass which is rarely used - after all, how do you play football when there's only one goal?

If I looked, what would I find? Lots. What's more, I found things difficult to photograph. None of these are rare plants but it's taken me more than a week of going back and back to get any photographs worth showing. Wild urban plants wobble, shut their petals, glare back and are much more of a pain to photograph than . . . than nettles. I've had to photograph them over and over again till they came 'right'. (Rainy days haven't helped.)

And it's not just within the park that you notice these flowers.

White Clover (Trifolium repens) from the street side.
(The tarmac is the pavement.)
June 11TH 2012

They creep under the fence too.

Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis)
 June 17th 2012

Scarlet Pimpernel flowers have been specially difficult to photograph. Not only are they small, with fluttering petals (how much they move is not necessarily noticeable till you look (frustratedly!) through the lens) but the flowers have been staying closed through most of the day. Even when it's been sunny, they haven't opened till the afternoon. Because I didn't expect this (know about it?) I kept traipsing backwards and forwards. I have lots of pictures with the flowers shut - in case the plant got pulled up or too rain battered.

Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis)
 June 17th 2012

Although this was annoying, it turned out in an interesting way because over this period is that more have come up in the grass. Above is one in the park but taken through the fence from the outside.

Common Bird's-foot-trefoil (Lotus corniculatus)
June 13th 2012

We probably need a close up for this one!

Isn't it lovely that it's got 'lotus' in its name?

 Black Medick
(Medicago lupulina)
June 6th 2012

Black Medick is one you would quite likely step on - especially as it is beginning to wander out from the edge of the park and on to the pavement. Once again, I find the Latin name surprising. It is not black - and it looks nothing like a lupin! If I carry on learning the scientific name for plants, more will become clear. In the meantime, I'm treasuring the surprise, the mystery, the apparent irrelevance.

And last, but beautifully not least . . .

The dandelion!

* * *

And here's a post-script. I'd like to recommend a blog some of you may not yet have come across

Notes of Nature

by

Tim Havenith

You'll find plants, creatures, ladybird eggs (!) and more. If you like Loose and Leafy, you're almost bound to like Notes of Nature too.

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WOULD YOU LIKE TO LOOK AT THE COLOUR OF MY FEET?

Here are some plants by a lake. What do we have? Oh, I don't know . . . some ragwort and plantain, maybe a bit of sorrel and cranesbill . . . and some feathery stuff which might be fennel or not . . . but who cares? They really are of very little interest today because, nearby, are some jolly interesting feet.

I've never looked at the feet of coots (Fulica atra) before. Mostly, when I see coots, they are swimming so their feet are under water. I think I've come across them pottering along edges where their feet are obscured by grass and, if I'm thinking anything, it's 'I wish they were moorhens'. But, here, on the concrete border of Radipole Lake, there's no hiding.

I can hardly believe them. In case you are doubtful too - I promise you, this is what they are like - blue with wavy edges! It's as if they've been crossed with seaweed.

Feet don't get much of a look in. Feathers, yes - but feet?

Here are the pink feet of a herring gull (Larus argentatus). If it were a black headed gull, it would have bright red legs, not pink. If it were a lesser black backed gull, it would have yellow legs. (There would be other differences too - it's just that this is a leg and feet post!)

The red webbed feet of a mallard  - Anas platyrhynchos. (This one a male.) 

And the black feet of a mute swan (Cygnus olor).

I'm not a bird person. I'm not going to buy a pair of binoculars and start gazing out to sea or onto the water instead of into the hedgerows all of a sudden but . . . well . . . I was bowled over by this lot. However do they manage to walk without falling over? And the colours! And the shapes! And none of them fierce or claw-like.

I usually post at weekends but, since I'm eight feet ahead of myself, I'll press 'publish' now.

P.S. Don't forget to let me know if you have tree following posts you'd like to have mentioned here.

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THE LAST PLANT IN ENGLAND

If you keep walking and walking in England, you will eventually come to the sea.

If you arrive at the Welsh or Scottish border first, keep going - and the same, eventually, applies.

In some places, land takes a while to dissolve and you will find yourself sinking before you get to the swimming. In others the swimming is pleasant. You arrive, take off your clothes, put on your swimming gear, paddle out - and off you go. (Assuming you can swim.) In others, if you don't stop, you fall off.

Portland Bill is the fall off variety. There are a couple of boat cranes but no way down for swimmers. Which is lucky - for you'd be sucked under, drawn out or smashed up if you tried. The sea here is dangerous. The waves can be massive. The waters are always strong and choppy. The currents famously powerful. Do not be deceived by that blue view.

If you arrive by walking along the East Cliffs, you can find yourself ankle deep in flowers. Keep going, past the last lighthouse . . . and you are in one of the Dorset other-worlds.

I did that. I kept walking till I had to stop. If you look up to the right (in the picture above) there's a fence. This part of the world is popular with industries like the navy . . . QinetiQ  . . . I'm not sure who's up there (though I expect there's a notice) but . . . even if I could get over those rocks, I would have to turn back.

But I can't.

Which is why I am searching here for the last plant in England. In other places, geographically, the first is also the last, but at the end of Portland Bill - it is definitely the last. You can come from only one direction . . . then, unless you are to dry out or bake or freeze (not literally - but it does get very cold in winter) or be blown into tatters . . . you have turn back.

But where is that plant? How can I find the last plant in England if there isn't a plant in sight?

Scan round.

Nothing.

(The lighthouse isn't a plant.)

I walk ahead . . . and look behind in case there's something I've missed. Yes! There's a splodge over there - about a foot of something flat on the ground.

I go closer. A plant!

By putting the camera behind it, we can see the world as it sees it.

But only at home, when we are out of the glaring light . . .












have enlarged the picture . . .

and have zoomed in . . .

do we really see what's really there

I'd missed what I'd walked on.

Do you know the poem 'Cats Sleep Anywhere' by Eleanor Farjeon? . . . 'Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair. Top of piano, window ledge, in the middle, on the edge . . . '? That's what plants do too.

And the plant? Greater Sea-spurrey - Spergularia media 

And, even though they are small . . . they flower . . . which is what this one was doing, all to itself and to a multitude of little, easily walked on, neighbours. (Not that the place was exactly crowded with people - for all that a few minutes walk away there's a cafe where you can buy a cup of tea and an ice cream.)

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