WALKING INTO THE VIEW

December 12th 2012

This is what the view I'm following looked like 12th December.

December 17th 2012

This is how it looked on the 17th. Apart from the light - it's pretty much the same. Indeed, if it weren't that my camera marks the date on the 'negative' I would have suspected I'd got in a muddle and they were taken on the same day. I've been going spare looking between one and the other, trying to find a difference. It's a sort of puzzle. But all I can see is that the tide is marginally further out in the second. If you count how many of the nearest rocks are uncovered, you'll see there's one more. Even the blackberries on the left have retained all their leaves.

Not a lot of substance for a blog . . . so . . . I decided to walk into the view. See the group of red trees at the foot of the cliff, slightly to the left of the castle? That's where we are going. If we take a direct route, it will take us about ten minutes but everything is very muddy and slippy at present - it has rained and rained and rained - so it'll take more like fifteen. And we need the tide to go further out before we can get there. We'll have to skip to the next day. Unfortunately, by then the light is going. (That's the trouble with winter!) None the less . . . nothing daunted . . .

. . . here we go!

December 18th 2012

Willows!

We have our backs to the water. Notice seaweed on the rocks? On the right is a tall, rusty pole. It seems to be what's left of an old notice. There are lots of these along this patch of shoreline. I don't know what they would originally have said and don't know how to find out but I've always assumed they are left over from the second world war to warn vessels against landing. If anyone local is reading the blog - maybe they can leave a note to say?

See the hollow between the middle willows? That's where we're heading. 

December 18th 2012

It would be nice to say we are going into a cave but, it's more like a dent in the cliff. Given the action of the tide, maybe it will one day hollow out . . . even then I doubt it will be a cave. The ground above is soft. There's more likely to be a landslide.

December 18th 2012

In another post, I'll show you the inside of the dent. It deserves a blog of its own (let alone a post!) but, for the moment, we'll keep focused on the trees. . . . Swinging round to the left, we can see the way many of the branches are growing horizontally. The bark is rough. Some of the branches are broken - yet they are alive. There is plenty of new growth.

December 18th 2012

Here we see the reason for the reddness in the view.

And, here too, we hit a problem. What kind of willows are they? I uploaded pictures to Ispot (if you are unfamiliar with Ispot, click the link, you won't regret it) but am still up in the air about whether they are Salix alba (White Willow) or Salix fragilis (Crack Willow). Salix fragilis is called Crack Willow because it cracks easily and bits fall off. The fallen bits root easily and, thus, it spreads.

As you know, I am not an expert in anything but comments on Ispot suggest that with neither tree would one expect to have shoots quite this red. Could it be a cultivar? It would be an odd place to plant a tree - right by the shore where the sea comes up to the cliff and chucks seaweed into its lower branches. On the other hand . . . landslides have tipped Horse Chestnut trees from people's gardens onto the shore not far from here so could a garden willow have slid down, clung on and carried on growing? Another puzzling thing is that this group of willows is happily living right by salt water. How are they surviving? Could it be there's enough fresh water filtering through the cliff to keep the salt at bay? And, finally, are all these trees of the same variety or are there two kinds of willow here? At the moment, I'm thinking only one but . . . but . . . I'll have to go back to see - maybe soon . . . or maybe in the spring.

Meanwhile, let's take in two more views. The first, standing within the dent and looking out to sea.

December 18th 2012

If you enlarge the photo, you'll see cormorants sitting on the marker buoys and another swimming near them. Can you see a ship beyond the harbour wall?

And, finally, lets step back again. Below is a picture from this morning (December 21st 2012).

December 21st 2012

By chance (and I'm not sure if this is fortunate or not) the tide is roughly in the same position. (It can go out quite a long way. I'll have to make a point of catching it with the sand showing to prove it!). Do you see where we've been?

* * *

Recent Tree Following Posts on Other Blogs

Garden's Eye View - Latest view of the (Ash) stump.
Welsh Hills Again - The Chestnut Tree
Down by the Sea - Where the Willow's At
Gardening Ways - Plane Tree 2012
Experiments With Plants - London Plane Tree
* * *

Have you updated your tree?

Who else is following trees? ClickHERE

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CARDING THE SEA

Autumn on the land - so in the sea, it seems. Around this time each year, the sea gathers armfuls of seaweed and eel grass and places it on the beach. In other years, I might have said 'thrown' but, as with finding lots of red admirals on the ivy - much depends on the day, the moment you look.

On 15th October, the sea was gentle. Great lumps of seaweed and eel grass were bobbing about in the shallows. I don't know whether you are familiar with carding wool (this is not a digression) but before wool can be spun, the strands have to be pulled straight. To do this by hand, you spread threads from the fleece over a grid of pins which stick out from a rectangular piece of wood which has a handle. Then you pull a matching 'carder' across it, over and over, till the 'grain', as it were, is smooth and straight. A deft realignment of the carders lifts the wool from the pins. As it comes away, it is rolled into a sort of tube called a rolag. A fleece, when it comes from the sheep is oily and smelly and, most likely, has bits and bobs of debris - straw and the like in it. Getting it ready for spinning is hard work on the arms but gentle on the wool. Mid October - and the sea wasn't hurling weed onto the shore, it was carding it - gently disentangling the threads, laying them out on the beach and rolling them (or, perhaps, nudging them, there are no exact parallels) into piles.

The short video below shows it happening.

Some of the seaweed clumps waiting to land are still attached to their 'holdfasts'. (A holdfast is a sort of foot which keeps the plant anchored to its rock.) These, in my mind, are the seaweed equivalents of 'staples'. Sheep's wool grows in clumps - staples. The length of the wool in the staple is one of the factors which determines the quality of the yarn made from it and, hence, the cloth. Mixed with these, and in different states between whole and broken, are strands from other plants. It's a right tangle. A tangle waiting to be 'carded'.

Watch the gap between the piles of weed on the shore. First one thread is drawn from the sea and straightened. The next wavelet pushes it a little further out of the water and attaches another strand to it. You'll get the idea. (Watching full screen helps.)

And here . . . in stills . . .

15th October 2012

This is dried and broken eel grass being sifted out of the sea.

15th October 2012

With each wavelet, other seaweeds are nudged against it, then pulled straight as the sea sucks out.

15th October 2012

As the sea brings more, it pushes what's already there into piles.

15th October 2012

More and more variety, in various stages of a seaweed 'autumn'

15th October 2012

Until everything that will come ashore with that tide is drying above the water line.

Then . . . well . . . then there are so many piles along the beach they join in an ugly, decaying ridge. Then it all gets sucked back out again. We'll ignore that for the moment and enjoy it in its fresh colour.

* * *

It's raining. I can't update the view I'm following while it rains so here's one from the first of November.

November 1st 2012

I began following this view on 21st September.
To see what it looked like then see the post
'Following Trees and Views and Willow Herb'
* * *

P.S. I've not yet put links with this post. So far, the demonstrations of carding I've found seem to have been made using clean and fluffy pre-carded wool and internet explanations about the word 'carding' seem, to my un-botanical mind, to be muddling teasels with thistles. However . . . if I can find links to clear and relevant information which doesn't confuse me - I'll add them here.

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THE END OF OCTOBER

You have no idea how many photographs I've taken recently, nor how many topics I've covered. How could you? I've not been churning out posts - and even this is late. Trouble is, I've been overwhelmed by choice. In the end, I've cheated and will simply present you with a small selection of autumn photos. After all, it is autumn. What more pressing subject could there be?

October 30th 2012

Chicory.

October 30th 2012

Chicory is one of my favourite plants. Its flowers get smaller as the season advances but they stand out specially against the aging vegetation beside the path. Some petals have fallen. Some seeds are forming.

October  15th 2012

Some parts of the landscape are still green.
Others are brown and white.
Autumn takes its time.

Teasels.

Teasels are another favourite.

October 30th 2012

Hawthorn.

Hawthorn doesn't 'do' autumn - not in the striking way of some other deciduous trees. Most of their leaves drop discreetly but there are prima-donnas among them, leaves which decide to do a dazzle all on their own.

October 30th 2012

Willow Herb.

This is one of the larger ones.

I photograph it in the same place every year.

Wonderful shapes it makes against the sky.

* * *

The Follow Section

The most recent tree following posts . . .
from

Experiments With Plants
London Plane Tree

Down By The Sea
Willow

Anyone else?

And, finally - the view I'm following through the seasons.

Sandsfoot Castle
Ten to four in the afternoon,
Tuesday 30th October 2012

Have a good autumnal week.

(Or is it spring where you are?)

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You may also like my other blog

 - Message in a Milk Bottle

(a new photo every day)

FOLLOWING TREES AND VIEWS AND WILLOW HERB

What is Tree Following and Who Does It?

Although I'm officially following an elderberry tree - or, rather, a clump of tangled elders, I've not abandoned the sycamore I've been keeping an eye on for several years. Indeed, there are quite a few trees, and bushes and patches of ground that I am specially aware of. This post is about five of them.

We'll begin with that elder.

As I've mentioned, it was cut back during the summer so the berries went AWOL and the undergrowth in front disappeared. This cutting, I have learnt over time, has a reasonably short lived impact - even though though the result is a one-sided tree. And, of course, I've yet to see what happens in the very long term.

One of the things I've noticed when choosing particular leaves to follow - observing them right from when they are little green blobs - is that the ones which come to my attention early tend not to do well compared with those which burst later. This happened with the hawthorn I thought was a blackthorn (oh dear!) and it is true of the elderberry too.

February 5th 2012

This is the shoot I chose on the elderberry tree. It seemed a good one at the time because it's in the crook of a branch and easy to find over and over.

This is how it was earlier in the year.

(February 2012)

September 27th 2012

This is how it is now.

Familiar pattern?

Sycamore I'm following - September 22nd 2012

Then the sycamore.

The ivy clinging to it was cut back during the year. Necessary, perhaps, but sad for me - I'm fascinated by the elegance of single strands and the beauty, the colour, the shape of its leaves. Of the trees in this little woodland area, it is not the leafiest, despite its sturdy trunk(s!) - and autumn this year is odd. A curl up at the edges and fall off kind of event instead of dramatic colour.

September  22nd 2012

Same Tree - September 2008

On the other hand, another elder bush - one which attracted my attention as early as 2008 (when I was using my phone as a camera) continues to grow and thrive and produce yellow leaves. This is not down to autumn. This is how the bush regularly is. Maybe it isn't an elderberry?

Remember the thistle from a couple of weeks ago? Where the bees gathered in June?  I've not been 'following' that particular plant. More, I've been aware of that patch.

Willow Herb Shedding its Seeds - September 21st 2012

Willow Herb grows there too. There are lots of Willow Herbs - not just the well known Rose Bay variety (Fire Weed on the western side of the Atlantic) and I don't want to hazard which this is. However, until very recent heavy rain and short, sharp wind, they were opening their pods and releasing seeds.

September 20th 2012 (in Esther's Garden)

I've not understood how this works before. One minute there are tall, thin, upright pods. The next, the plants are 'decorated' with an ugly, fluffy, tangled mess. By being more aware, this year, I've seen what happens. The seeds are evenly spaced in straight lines up the pods and each seed is attached to a closed parachute above it. The pods don't split at the sides so much as peel back from the top and, as they dry and open, they pull open the parachutes. This, to me, is clever and marvelous but, also (to me) the next stage is less impressive. Instead of flying away like dandelion seeds, they seem to fall where they are and get caught in the peeled back bits of the pods lower down the plant. This, presumably, is why tall willow herbs grow in clumps. Some seeds get away though and it's a good 'spreader'. The smaller versions which arrive in gardens, I have noticed, are more likely to give each other space.

Willow Herb which has dropped its seeds onto opened pods on the same plant - September 13th 2012

This picture is of a middle sized one in my neighbour Esther Montgomery's garden after the seeds have fallen into their old-cotton-wool muddle. (All sorts of things can look better in a photograph then in 'real' life!)

And, last up - a view.

This is new. Well, clearly not a new view but new that I'm following. Because it's by a bench, and because there's a castle to fix in the middle of the picture, we should be able to follow it through the seasons, certain we are looking, each time, in the same direction!

September 21st 2012

By putting the ruins of Sandsfoot castle centre frame, it should be reasonably easy to keep a steady eye on what is happening to the tree on the right of the picture, the brambles on the left and the view beyond.

* * *

For more about Tree Following - Click HERE

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WHO STOLE MY LEAF?

Narrow path between elder trees.
To see what this was like in January click for
the first in this series of elder posts.

There are several of us bloggers who feel a bit disrupted when the council cuts verges along paths and roads. A few years ago, there was a specially deep and distressing hack-back, just when it was almost the moment to go blackberrying. It hasn't been too troubling since then. Vipers bugloss and chicory plants tend to be affected so the grassy edges of a route I often follow are less dramatic, less blue than they used to be - but the trees are kept trim without being splintered and torn; people can walk or cycle without being grabbed by brambles. It has to be done.

Until recently, the undergrowth (mainly consisting of alexanders and nettles) has been growing tall between me and my elder tree. (The 'my' meaning the one I've been following since leaves first showed their buds.) At times, it's been awkward. I've had to zoom in over the top to photograph 'my' particular leaf. And there have been irritations too - of all the leaves on the tree, 'mine' decided to be the smallest, the least grown, the runt for all that it started well.

The leaf I've been following used to be in the crook of this lichen covered bough which
is covered in a layer of Common Orange Lichen
(Xanthoria parietina)

And now? Between going on holiday and returning, the council has been by and shaved things back. Elderberries which were ripening when I went have been cut off or shaken from their stems. And, strangely, despite having grown in the protective crook of a bough, the leaf I was following has gone, along with its brothers and sisters.

Bits of wood are broken.

Ivy leaf pierced by twig.

Leaves pierced.

But . . . and there are lots of good 'buts' . . . nearby, a bit of colour - 

Gatekeeper (Pyronia tithonus) butterfly on blade of grass.

a Gatekeeper Butterfly in the grass.

And blackberries too. Some have had their stems cut so the fruits have withered and dried but there are still masses ripening - not very ripe yet but there!

Attention will need to shift to them. They are looped over 'my' tree, even if 'my' tree is a little depleted!

* * *

This post is part of my 'Tree Following'

If you'd like to email me the link to your latest tree following post

looseandleafy@googlemail.com

(or, if you prefer, leave a link in the comments box)

I'll add it in here and make sure your name

is included in the list of 'Tree Followers' at the top of the blog.

What is Tree Following and Who Does It?

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Seeing for the First Time - Wych Elm at Patio Patch
Plane Tree - Summer 2012 at Gardening Ways

P.S. You may like this sequence of 20 pictures of  some of the world's most beautiful trees.

FOLLOWED TREES AND INCIDENTAL INSECTS

How's your tree following?

SWOLLEN-THIGHED BEETLE
(Oedemera (Oedemera) nobilis)

When I chose my clump of elderberry trees I decided to follow a particular leaf bud on one of them. 'This,' I thought 'will be interesting'.

At first, it was. But once the leaf had opened, it got stuck where it was. Everything else grew. I keep returning to the tree to photographing the non-growing leaf - but the results are hardly riveting. I've been back to take pictures of the flowers - then they were cut off by the council as it came by on its annual trim back. Most of the blossom was shaken off when they did it so there are spikes where the flowers were and very few berries.

Fortunately, there are others close nearby so I'll add what happens to them in my extended tree.

It's a cross over moment. Berries are forming but there are flowers still. They are neither as profuse nor as big as in other years (there have been seasons when the trees and bushes look as if they are spinning big, white plates) . . . and on them . . . here! above . . . A Swollen-thighed Beetle. And just look at its thighs too! I didn't name it. I'd have called it 'The Beetle With Massive Thighs' for it isn't ill. Its legs aren't swollen because it hasn't been taking enough exercise. This is its natural state. And isn't it beautiful? I think he's a he and his presence diverted me from my elderberry intentions.

Already we were coming to the end of National Insect Week and I had already taken a few pictures of insects that morning and the day before so I hurried home and . . . began to find out (with the help of iSpot) what they are.

On blackberry flowers (where the fruits are already forming)

Honey Bee (Apis mellifera)

a Honey Bee (Apis mellifera)

And sharing a (Spear?) thistle;

on the right, a Garden Bumble bee

(Bombus hortorum)








and, on the left, a Common Carder bee
(Bombus (Thoracombus) pascuorum)

Single roses in the hedgerow

are host to Shield Bugs mating
(Palomena prasina)

or waiting (?) in the sunshine, on hips already forming

a Lagria Hirta (which, I think, is also called a 'Darkling Beetle', beautiful name, no?).

As for the tree following? Can't let go of the Sycamore. Some of the ivy has been stripped from it or cut - but, here it is still, being magnificent!

I expect I should have posted this a week ago. Never mind - here's a Happy Insect Week; after all, insects are here every week.

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