THE VALLEY OF STONES

Imagine you are walking through the country on a route you've never taken before and you see a wooden signpost pointing to 'The Valley of Stones'. Well you have to follow the path don't you?

Exactly. So over I went and through the kissing gate and along by mountains of gorse. Plants and trees seem a bit all over the place this year. Last weekend I watched the London Marathon on television. I have no idea why I find this interesting. It's a whole load of people I don't know hurrying along through emptied city streets for hours on end - thousands of them! It's a bit like horse racing. I sometimes watch that on the television too. Perhaps it's the predictability of it. Everyone starts at A and tries to get to B as fast as they can. Then un-threatenting people who didn't do the hurrying talk to those who did - and that's it. When the news is otherwise full of bombs and earthquakes, things which burst terrifyingly out of the blue, perhaps I like to be reassured by events with no surprises. But the thing which stood out specially with the Marathon this year was how green were the trees in London compared with the trees in Dorset. A week later and everything here is lushing up. Some places are almost unrecognisable because the rain-inspired green-ness is so sudden - and tall.

Hang on - I think I've got lost. Why am I talking about horse racing and marathons and the trees in London? - oh yes - it's about gorse. Our trees may seem a tad slow in comparison this year and the blackthorn blossom may not be as impressive as usual - but the gorse? Oh the gorse! Roads are lined with it in brilliant yellow. It's all over the place and on the hills there's so much in flower it looks as if great billows of golden clouds have come to land in the grass. And there it was on my way to The Valley of Stones.

And a pond too; murky and mysterious. Brilliant! Sometimes it's like living in a children's story book.

Think England and you think thatched cottages. Maybe you think of crumpets and UKIP too. Maybe football in cities and cricket on village greens. Red buses? Late trains? We don't have red buses round here but I've seen quite a few UKIP signs in the last few weeks. They come - and will hopefully go. But thatched cottages are abundantly present - and comfortingly old. Why am I going on about cottages now? Um . . . oh yes. The cottages are tucked in valleys and folds between great big green hills. I mean really big. They aren't mountains. They don't go sheer up and sheer down. They go in great waves through the land. There are villages (and thatched, stone cottages) hidden in some of their folds but in other places there are no dwellings - just gorse and trees and cattle or sheep . . .

In the picture, we are part way down the hill. We will walk a bit to our right, then down, then left again behind the tree and continue further down still. It's not hard walking - just a bit steep in places.

Until we reach this place - The Valley of Stones.

Scale is hard to convey in photographs. I don't want to exaggerate how high are the hills on either side of this valley - but they are higher than they appear in the photo; so the presence of boulders at the bottom when the slopes on either side of them are smooth comes as a surprise. They snake along like a wide path. It's better seen when you are standing there among them or looking down from a distance. (Distance is hard to get right on blogs.) And don't be put off by the telegraph poles either. It's because we are out in the country that wires have to be supported above the ground instead of expensively under it. This place is is not remote in the way some of the wilds in Scotland are remote - but there are no houses nearby (only ruins); and when I was there, no walkers apart from the friend who came with me. The silence is tremendous.

Nor would I like to suggest I'm terribly genned up on science and geology so I'll simply copy the Natural England notice at the top of the path.

'This National Nature Reserve is named after the distinctive boulders that tumble down this dry valley in the downs. These sarsen stones, of tightly cemented gravels and sands, derive from the former capping above the chalk that became fragmented during the freeze/thaw conditions after the last ice age 10,000 years ago.

'This Reserve is also notable for its fine chalk grassland and the associated insects and flowers. Scarce lichens and mosses grow on the sarsens, The downland and heathy grassland is maintained by cattle and sheep grazing.

'This is part of a working farm, managed in partnership with the landowner, the Bridehead Estate, and a tenant. Stock are present all year so please keep dogs on a lead.'

Some of the rocks are smooth, but others, as mentioned on the notice, are made up of smaller stones stuck together and some of the flints are so polished by the weather (or so compressed?) they have glass-like qualities . . . (anyone know what causes this?) . . . and their broken faces shine as if they have been consciously cut for the sake of reflecting light just as windows and car mirrors do - or binoculars in the distance . And in this I am not exaggerating. They are pretty and special.

The notice mentions wild flowers. Most noticeable when I visited were violets clustered around one of the rocks but there were the beginnings of bluebells here and there too - for all that it wasn't woodland. You know what violets look like. You know what bluebells look like. And I posted about Oil Beetles last year . . . So in the spirit of bringing you pictures you might not often find on other blogs - I spent a little while moving from cow-pat to cow-pat taking photogaphs of these beautiful Yellow Dung Flies (Scathophaga stercoraria) who were mating en masse in the sunshine. They may be called 'Yellow' but if I have named them I would have said they are gold. I'm a fan.

Thinking of bright colours - what do you think of my new shoes? They may not look much good for walking in but they are so supple they give an excellent grip on rough (dry) ground and are extraordinarily comfortable. (I haven't tried them in the wet yet.)

And remember - It's only a week before our next Tree Following Festival. THURSDAY 7TH MAY!

Tweet

AN EVENING AMBLE

Setting out for walk just as the mist rolls in may be pleasant - it is - but it's not the most practical time for taking photographs for a blog. Trees I like were in shade; plants in the dullness below bushes. Streaks of sunlight landing on this but not necessarily on that.

It didn't matter. I didn't know what I was looking for. I was out on an evening amble - not a ramble, note; a little stroll nowhere in particular to see what I could see.

Spring, as I note every year, has a lot in common with autumn. Chills and warmth waltz arm in arm. There is death - last year's leaves which have clung on through winter give up and fall. It becomes clear which bushes have died and which merely dormant.

Some Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum) are beginning to produce early flowers. Some of the gorse is flowering. We haven't had frosts. The weather has become unpredictable. Most years, you can go out in the morning and find the young Alexanders all flopped over, frost zapped. That hasn't happened (yet?) but their own special rust (Puccinia smyrnii) seems to have got a head start, bringing their leaves and stems out in bright yellow wart type growths.

I'm trying to remember who it was recently who said they didn't like the smell of Alexanders' flowers. (Was it you?) I was surprised. The accumulation of scent when the weather warms up is fantastic - delicate, ethereal yet unmissable. I am not the only one to like them They are pale yellow, large and rather clumpy and not necessarily noticeable except against a blue sky. But flies like them. Ants too.

And then I went to visit the Holm Oak (Quercus ilex).
Do you remember? I nearly chose it as 'my' tree-following tree. We've had a wet and wild winter. Over one night, this tree had to endure nigh on a hurricane force, salt laden wind. It's leaves are supposed to be ever green. Look at it now.

The light of evening was patchy. The lowering sun was tinging the Alexanders and dead gorse with a warmer glow than they'd shown in the morning. But these leaves . . . these leaves are not just being caught in a golden light. They are beautiful. But they are dying.

* * * * *

When looking for the spelling for Puccinia smyrnii I came across APHOTOFUNGI - photographs of fungi found in South West England, especially Devon and Cornwall. Devon is the next county along going west from Dorset (where I live) but even if the collection on APHOTOFUNGI had been photographs from another continent I would have enjoyed browsing the site. You might too so I've added it to the Loose and Leafy page of internet places you might go for help with identification. The list is random; sites I come across by chance and like - and remember to put there!

And a note about Tree Following - it's never too late to join the growing list of participants. (72 to date.)

Tweet

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO USE MY PICTURES - AND A RED ADMIRAL BUTTERFLY

Red Admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta) on gorse flowers.
May 13th 2013

I belong to a Google Circle for garden bloggers. This isn't a garden blog so I count it a privilege to have been invited to join. Over the last week, there's been an interesting and extended discussion about copyright, watermarking, meta-data etc. . . . and always in the background is the question of whether or not we are happy for our photographs to be used by others.

I've found this very helpful in re-crystallising how I feel about my own pictures and as I think it is different from many (possibly most) other bloggers, Diana Studer (of Elephant's Eye) suggested I write a post to make this clear. Good idea!

Without waffle - I will be delighted if anyone wishes to use any of the pictures on this blog as long as they are not of plants taken in an urban setting* and as long as they are not to be used for commercial purposes. (If anyone has a commercial use for any - contact me at looseandleafy@googlemail.com)

Red Admiral Butterfuly (Vanessa atalanta)

on gorse flowers May 13th 2013

If you use one of my photos on your site and let me know, I will be pleased. If you link back to Loose and Leafy, I'd appreciate it but it isn't necessary and I won't be offended if you don't. However, I would definitely like you to mention it was me - Lucy Corrander - who took the photo.

Nearly all the recent photographs have been reduced in quality to help the page load quickly. If you would like me to send you a jpeg version of a picture with it's original quality maintained (so there's better detail) - I can do that. If you have a commercial purpose in mind and we agree terms of use, photos in RAW are available for most pictures from early 2012.

Red Admiral Butterfly (Vanessa atalanta) with its wings closed.

On gorse flowers. May 13th 2013

BUT . . . and this is a really, really, really important 'but'. You must bear in mind I am not a naturalist. I try to ensure my identifications are accurate but mistakes will, inevitably, creep in from time to time. If you use any of my pictures, you must either make sure to your own satisfaction that the ID is correct, or say you can't guarantee it. AND because I have sometimes realised a mistake after uploading it to the blog, the incorrect ID may still be attached to some pictures, even if corrections have been made in the blog itself. SO it would be a good idea to check this before you use an image. If you put your cursor on a picture and right click and chose 'Inspect Element' from the drop down list, you will see details of the picture highlighted. This will generally include the date the picture was taken as well as the ID. If you have doubts - download the picture onto your computer and remove the ID, leaving the other information - image number, date, my name etc. in place. Is that ok?

None of this applies to the text on this blog - only the pictures. If you'd like to paraphrase the information, please feel free to do so - remembering to check I'm right! - but don't simply copy and paste what I've written about anything.

I suspect I will want to change the way I've said this from time to time, phrase it better. Some of you may also see that I've missed things out or been unclear . . . (mention it, please!) I'll put all this under a tab at the top of the page soon so if ever you want to refer to it - you can.

*Urban setting - those pictures which include human made things like cars, buildings, pavements, drains, street lamps, trains . . . those kinds of things.

* * *

(Hope you like the Red Admiral Butterfly! The three views are of the same individual.)

Tweet

IT DEPENDS ON THE BACKGROUND

Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum) and Gorse. May 2nd 2013 

What we see depends on what is there. Obvious.

What takes our attention depends on our interest. Clearly.

Some things we delight in as we walk. Like the yellow of gorse or the blueness of sky.

Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum) and Blackthorn -May 2nd 2013 

Or the whiteness of blackthorn blossom.

Tweet

THE TREES GO ROUND AND ROUND

February 24th 2013

On March 14th 2010 I published a post called 'Take One Tree'. It it's a sycamore and I've been following its progress ever since - though 'progress' probably isn't the right word because it never seems to do anything. Even the ivy which was cut away last year is re-growing this. There's a Hart's Tongue Fern that never moves. There's an Arum maculatum that dies down and come back. There are celandines which used to flower with exuberance but have become a bit tatty and drab over the last few years. The ditch at the foot of the bank is a bit more silted than it was. And that's about it! It's not a very leafy tree and the leaves it does produce are very high up. But, still, I follow!

Then there's the clump of elderberry trees.

March 14th 2013

I began following them in December 2008 when I was still using the camera on my phone. I even gave them a blog of their own. (The Elderberry Log Blog been much neglected. Perhaps I should revive it.) At first,  I followed a particular whirl in the wood of one of the trees. This turned out to be a mistake because when the leaves had grew round it, it became impossible to photograph. It time, bits flaked away. So I switched to a crooked branch. (You can see the crook clearly in a post from August 2012 called 'Who Stole My Leaf'.) And now a bit of the crook has broken away so it's a crook no longer.

At first, I thought it had gone completely but 'our' shoots are still there, simply a little higher because, with less weight on it, the branch has sprung higher.

March 14th 2013

And now that it's March, our eyes begin to turn towards the hawthorn and blackthorn trees. Of the blackthorns, I've been specially noticing some young trees. On this one, you can still see the shriveled remains of last year's sloes.

And all the time there's gorse.

March 14th 2013

.

Soft green buds.

March 14th 2013

And startling bursts of gold.

The years go round. They stay the same. They flake away. Things live. Things die. And live again.

Click HERE for previous Sycamore Tree Following posts.

I'm Following a Tree

Are You?

A Growing List!

Some people follow a tree for a year, some for longer.

There's a list of tree-following bloggers under a tab below the picture at the top of the page.

Over the next little bit, I'll be revising it and visiting tree-following bloggers to find out if they are still following their tree . . . or have stopped . . . or have moved on to a new one.

Meanwhile . . .

Joy at The Little House in the No-so-big Woods is setting off this year with a cedar elm. Her first post is Be careful, tree: there's someone following you!

(How's that for a title!)

and

Laura (who used to blog at Patio Patch) is following a London Laburnum on her new blog, Tell Tale Therapy.

Do you have a tree following post? If so, let me know, and, despite my profound inefficiency and erratic blogging technique - I'll endeavor to remember to put a link here!

Tweet

A POST IN GREY

One of the delights of autumn is the way the skies swing between grey and blue. How a plant 'looks' (it's emotional appeal to humans) is closely connected with how brightly the light shines. There's something cheerfully heart lifting about crisp colours and lots of easily discerned detail. When colour and detail vanish, texture tends to vanish too. We are left with shape and awe.

November 15th 2012

Immediately - a problem with ID.
Is this the top of a sycamore or maple?
Looking around for an answer, I've come across a tree called
Sycamore Maple
(Acer pseudoplatanus)
Descriptions suggest we might not only confuse this maple with sycamores
but, in some seasons, with plane trees too.
Confusion comes easy!
Meanwhile, I don't know what this pretty tree is.

This is one of my favourite times of year and, although I realise it would be boring to have non-stop silhouettes, I'm always pleased when these newly re-revealed structures of the natural world re-appear against the sky.

November 15th 2012

This is very top of the tree above.
Asking if anyone knows its identity

would have made more sense when it still had leaves!

BUT - once one knows . . . 

being able to identify a tree from its winter shape would be a handy skill,

don't you think?

As ever, I'm aware I have taken these very same pictures before - same plant, same angle, same blank grey sky. It's almost like the annual school photo. The subjects up, fix their smiles and - zam, that's them to put in the album. Once I like something, I tend to get stuck on it. When I see the same shape as last year, I find it oddly heart warming. But, this time, old scenes have given me a new idea.

November 15th 2012

This blackberry loop is hanging from the elderberry tree I'm 'following'.

The clump is so well covered with ivy and brambles, I missed it shedding its leaves!

When I'm trying to identify a plant or tree (and this can be a very ordinary plant or tree, I rarely come across anything exotic) I plough around blogs and ID sites and, of course, upload pictures to Ispot (which I can never plug enough!). But it's often difficult to draw things together. There's a real leaf here, a drawing there, a diagram of tree shape, a flower alive but not what it looks like when it dies. Very hit and miss - and will remain so. Apart from all the other practicalities, every leaf is different. Each tree has a history written in its bark.

November 15th 2012

These are blackthorn leaves.

Blackthorn belongs to the plum family. In summer, its leaves are glossy and dark green.
Its autumn transformation is startling, more so than in trees like sycamores whose
autumn leaves, apart from a change in colour, aren't much different from their summer selves.

The range of plants and trees I cover in this blog is very, very narrow. The challenge of this is to keep it interesting. The advantage is that I have a lot of pictures of the same ones at different times of year. Even then, there are glaring gaps. I may photograph the same branch every autumn because I welcome the re-emergence of its shape . . . but miss the bark every time round. Even bark changes. A sudden downpour and its colours are altered in seconds.

November 15th 2012

Hawthorn leaves.

In spring, hawthorn leaves are a delightful light green.

The blossom (May) comes later and tends to hog attention till the autumn

when the berries (haws) steal the show.

Meanwhile . . . don't forget the leaves!

So . . . a new discipline. I'll look for a way of gathering pictures of individual varieties of plants into separate, easily accessible albums. I tried doing this with elderberry a few years ago by giving it its own blog. The project foundered. And the labels in the side bar aren't a lot of use if help is needed with ID because they link to posts, not pictures.

November 15th 2012

I'm a fan of buddleia bark.
(I'll have to look out old pictures - and add some new.)

I like dead buddleia flowers (like these) - but not when they're live -
their florets are packed so densely, there' something disconcerting about them.

The discipline in this is double. First, it might be boring. Indexing takes a special kind of mind and a lot of time. The other - and this simultaneously enlivens my interest and makes me feel guilty because it highlights the gaps . . . why do I not have more pictures of bark? But . . . . I'll see what I can do . . . and if you have experience of drawing things together in this way and have advice - please do share it if you are willing.

November 15th 2012

Gorse against a blue sky spells summer heat and picnics.

It's grey-sky shape has a starkly different atmosphere.

A sad addendum.

As UK readers (especially, I think, those of us in England) will be all too aware - our Ash Trees are under threat from a fungal infection called Chalara fraxinea (Ash Dieback). Potentially, it can kill almost all our ash trees (Think Dutch Elm Disease).

November 15th 2012

Two Ash Trees.

When the undergrowth pulls back a bit for winter, I'll see if I can get closer

to show you the trunks as well as the top-most leaves!

The picture above shows the edges of the tops of two young ash trees. We are all being asked to keep an eye out for Ash Dieback. This will be a new kind of tree following - a sombre one. Do click this Forestry Commission link . Towards the bottom of the Forestry Commission page, there's a short video. If you have a moment, do, please, watch it. It's both interesting and important. Important because the only way to stop the spread of this disease is by taking out affected trees. Specially interesting beause it shows not only the external signs of the disease (the leaves, the lesions) but what is happening inside the wood too.

* * *

The latest tree following post I know of is
from Gary Web at Compton Verney.
Not only is he following it through its seasons
but a family has adopted it too!

Plane Tree - Autumn 2012

Have you updated your tree?

Tweet

P.S. All photos in this post are in colour.

TIME FOR A STUCK FOOT POST

Every so often, I stand somewhere, somewhere pretty random - though often somewhere quite pretty too - choose a foot and, while making sure not to move it or lift it, take pictures of whatever I see. I can zoom up and crouch down, twist round - but must keep to the discipline of staying in that one place, with my foot stuck to the ground. Hence, every so often, a stuck foot post.

On on Tuesday afternoon, I stopped, looked up at some ripening blackberries, thought 'Oh, bother. I suppose I ought to include them in the blog, even thought everyone else will be posting blackberries too. They are so much a part of late summer they can't be avoided. It must be the same for people living in mountain ranges. 'Oh, no!' They think. 'Not another beautiful sunset! Is there nothing else nature can cook up for me? Maybe a flying skyscraper? A palm tree suddenly springing from a snowy crevice? Something, anything, other than mountain peaks, rocky crags and beautiful sunsets!'

My bane is blackberries. Here are some blackberries against the blue, blue, puffy cloud sky of Tuesday afternoon. Sometimes, life is hard!

Oddly, there are lots of haws on one side of the path but not the other. When I was standing there, with my foot obstinately stuck, the sun glared milkily into the lens when I pointed it at them - so I stuck to hawthorn leaves against that blue, blue sky.

The gorse was popping. It's been such an odd summer, this is the first time I've heard it. Not these high, green branches. They weren't popping - only the old brown pods. You don't get to see them for I would have had to move my foot to take their pictures.

This was poking up above the hawthorn trees and brambles. Seems to be a young sycamore. I hadn't noticed it before.

Brambles, brambles, interminable brambles. I thought this was a strand of wild rose when I took the photo but it isn't is it? Yet another beautiful, bright green trail of blackberry, reaching to the sky because it is new. The moment will come when it grows too long to support itself and it will bend back in a graceful ark.

Oh, it's a hard life, isn't it!?

Tweet

FEBRUARY PRICKLES

The comments here have got themselves detached from their post 'February Prickles'. To read the post they belong to - click HERE.

(Apologies!)

PRICKLES AND THORNS

When the weather grows cold and blustery, it’s tempting to look for signs of new growth but do that too much and one misses the season. In January, there’s more dead on show than usual; prickles show clear and thorns are beautifully exposed.

Gorse flowers all year round but in January, when there is less colour than in  other months, the flowers are specially prominent in the dull light.

January is a month when it's easy to see where blackthorn gets its name. Come spring, white blossom will draw the eye and in the summer these long spikes will be hidden in dense foliage.

For most of the year, blackberries mean fruit at some stage but January is a 'look at those thorns!' time.

Buddleia is an exception to this general 'now-ness'. Last years dead blossoms remind us of the year passed.

Hurray for January!

Have a Very Happy

2012

!

Tweet

LOOKING UP FOR A BIT

As I write - it's mid-morning and getting darker as the rain grows heavy.

Walks have to be snatched when it's neither uncomfortably windy nor wet. Such moments of ordinary sun and still air are treasurable - even to someone like me who likes wild and windy weather.

In such a moments, the sky can be surprisingly blue . . .

beyond the ever flowering gorse

and through the lattice of elder hedge.

The upper branches are bare but, lower down

leaf buds are not only forming above the ever pleasing lichen

but breaking open.

And Old Man's Beard

grows thinner scraggier and more beardy and old as the weeks pass.

Tweet