Until July 2017, documenting the seasons of coastal Dorset. I'm a complete amateur so don't trust I'm always right. If ever you see I'm wrong - whether with identifications or in anything else - do say! Meanwhile . . . I've now moved to Halifax in West Yorkshire. Click on the link below to collect the new URL. Don't forget to follow there!
Showing posts with label HAWS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HAWS. Show all posts

Friday, 17 October 2014

A WALK BY THE SEA IN AUTUMN

Usually I show you plants. I'm going to show you plants now.

Usually the pictures are silent. You don't know what I hear. What you may not realise is that in one of my favourite spots for plants, if I pop up below hedge level the sea is what I see. Often it's silent because this bit of sea is contained within a massive harbour. But today it was noisy. So were the birds. But the birds were boring. They were taking it in turns to sing or croak or caw. There were Dunnocks. (Pretty.) I think there were Robins. (The best singers of all.) There were magpies squabbling and crows shouting randomly in what they may have thought was a chorus. So I decided that in terms of a sound-scape the sea was best of all. After a couple of minutes of magpies I want to ask in an irritated way if that's all they have to say. Click, click, shriek, click. But I never tire of the sea.



Here, then is a sound track to go with the pictures. I'll not say much about the plants in thm. They're the kind you are familiar with on Loose and Leafy. So I'll leave you to listen to the sea while you scroll down the page. If you don't have the kind of computer which can cope with video clips I apologise. You'll have to imagine a gentle but persistent hum rising and falling with the wind interfering every now and then.

Skeleton of umbrel against a dark sky

This is one of those plants one forgets what they are once the flowers have gone. At least I do. I find white umbeliferous plants hard to identify even in the summer.

(To see what this seed head looked like in September, click here. You'll see some seeds are still hanging on.)

Two fallen haws on muddy ground



Haws are falling.

Quite a lot of them are still on the trees. They are crinkling up and going brown and waggling around on their branches because they are camera shy and the wind is rising.

Ivy flowers and Common Orange Lichen (Xanthoria parietina)
The round things are ivy flowers. Another mystery.


Lichen which is orange (I'd say yellow but it's called Common Orange Lichen - Xanthoria parietina) is changing to green as it gets wet in the rain and general autumn dampness. When the weather is dry, it reverts to yellow. If you look carefully you'll see the lichen on the upper part of the branch is greener than the lower part. In the summer all of this was a mixture of bright orange and yellow. (Here's a picture I took of the same lichen on a nearby branch on a dry day in January last year.)

Do I understand what lichen is? No. To me it's a science fiction creature (I say this every time because I don't get much further forward it's sort of unbelievable - a combination of algae and fungus. When it's damp the algae element (green) shows through the fungal element which contains a chemical (xanthorin) which protects it against the UV rays in sunshine. 

Shrivlled remains from which blackberries have fallen
This is what flowers come to!


Blackberries are falling, leaving brown whirls behind. They look rubbish from a distance but are beautiful close to. (You might want to click the picture to enlarge it.)

Sycamore tree growing under ground in a kerbside drain



And on the way home, out of the way of the sea, the sycamore in a drain we've been following for the last couple of years. It looks a bit tatty but autumn hasn't reached underground just yet.

* * *


Xantharia parietina on Nature Spot
Xanthoria parietina on Wikipedia (if you're in the mood for really, really concentrating).

Thursday, 25 September 2014

YEAR AFTER YEAR AFTER YEAR

A chicory flower and convolvulus leaves.
Chicory.
The picture is dark but I wanted you to see the curly stamens.


I'm horribly repetitive. It's because of the seasons. I'll blame it on them entirely. Every year come spring I go and look at a hawthorn tree. Not any old tree; the same one every year. Come autumn, when the haws are almost overwhelming in their colour and quantity I go and see a different tree. Absurd but . .  it just happens. I head back to the familiar.

It's wonderfully reassuring. It may be that what I saw in the spring, or last year, or the year before is still there. Or it might not be. Either way it helps me feel rooted, part of the year. My input is zilch. But it confirms I belong.

A pom-pom of ivy flowers upon which a single bright red haw has fallend
Ivy flowers with a fallen haw.
Unconventional as flowers go but beloved of hoverflies.
Perhaps I also feel a little smug. I could stop people and say 'there were rose-hips here last year. Do you see, there are only three this year and even they are buried in the undergrowth'. It would be getting my own back from all those who stop to ask me what I'm looking at and are disappointed when I say 'the back of this leaf'.



The rose-hips I visit really are missing this year. And, oddly, where there's a gap between hawthorn trees the one on the left has few berries but the one on the right has just as many as usual. Esoteric and completely pointless knowledge!

Branch of a hawthorn tree laden with bright red haws against a blue sky
Haws - the fruit of hawthorn trees. Still in profusion on 25th September.
A sharp wind at this time of year can easily transform the view.

Dark Bush Cricket sitting on a bramble
I was looking for hoverflies. I'm always looking for hoverflies!
And I was eating blackberries as I went.
(One always eats blackberries while walking in autumn.)
Leaning into a bramble across trampled ground
I came across a Dark Bush Cricket.
(Pholidoptera griseoaptera)
There it was. Then it was gone.
I was lucky it paused between leaps.
Stamens are fascinating.
Photography made me see them. I'd never noticed them before I started taking pictures of flowers. And once I'd seen them in their elegance and beauty and different-one-plant-from-another-ness, and the blobs of pollen on their ends . . . all that stuff, I've not been able to stop trying to take their pictures.

Why this happens specially in autumn I don't know. Perhaps because of the light. Maybe it's a time when they show up well. Or maybe it's because the plants which flower at this time of year have especially prominent ones so they catch my attention.

Viper's Bugloss showing how it looks like frost in autumn



I always try to take photographs of Viper's Bugloss seeds - merely for the challenge. They are very tiny and they are held tightly within pale prickles which look like frost patterns. Every year I take a million photographs. Sometimes I'm lucky and one comes out all right. Mostly not. I haven't managed one this year yet. Maybe I won't. The seeds are already falling onto the earth.

A single yellow honeysuckle (Lonicera) flower sticking out from a hedgerow



And finally - the late escapees. Honeysuckle round here isn't truly wild. It's crept out from gardens. And it isn't the right time for it to flower. Many plants seem able to produce a late and surprising flowering and their one-off-ness draws the eye. (And they have dramatic stamens!)

I realise most of the pictures in this post are set against inappropriate paragraphs. But I put them in order before I wrote the post and didn't get round to changing it. You'll cope!

* * *




Three site recommendations. 

House and Garden Spiders (in Dutch.) It's a PDF illustrated chart so you can print it out.

Dave's Garden Site - another of those sites where once you've arrived you hardly want to stop exploring. (Not sure who Dave is. The site is run by a Digital Software company in California. Don't let that put you off.)

The Meaning of Latin Plant Names - on the Seed Site. It's short. It's fun. Try it.

* * *
All photos were taken on September 25th 2014.
As always I rely on iSpot for IDs. I reckon I can identify the Speckled Bush Cricket (Leptophyes punctatissima) but this is the first time I've come across a Dark Bush Cricket long enough to look at it. They don't 'arf boing so!

Posts about these flowers from other years.

Viper's Bugloss - This is a post from June 2012, not autumn. I know there are Viper's Bugloss seeds on this blog somewhere but I can't have labelled them so I haven't tracked them down yet.
Honeysuckle - can't find honeysuckle on this blog. Bet there is some. Better labelling required!

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

WHY NOT STICK YOUR FOOT?

Woody Nightshade berries - red and yellow - with their leaves in pampas grass
Wherever you stick your foot you'll find something interesting.
If I hadn't stood still, I might never have noticed Bittersweet
(Solanum dulcamara)
hiding in pampas grass.
Bittersweet, like Deadly Nightshade is related to potatoes and tomatoes.

Rashly, I said I'd that on the 21st August I'd include a link box for 'Stuck Foot Posts'.

Buddleia behind cotoneaster.
If I hadn't left my foot in the same place I wouldn't have noticed
a small buddleia hiding behind an equally small contoneaster.

(I think it's a form of contoneaster - but maybe it isn't?)
Why rashly? Because first I went away. Then I stripped everything off my computer so couldn't use it till enough was reinstalled to get it going again.

Branch of hawthorn tree with berries against blue sky with gorse in background
Standing beside a hawthorn three and looking up,
haws and sky catch the eye.
But there's gorse beyond.









And I think my heart and brain got left behind in a field in Wales so I'm a bit distracted and thinking I'd like another holiday.









But I'd like to encourage you to join me by sticking your foot for Wednesday - or some time in the following days - hence this post.










A stuck foot post is one in which you choose a place to stand, put your feet firmly in one place and see what you can see.

It can be a place chosen at random or a place well loved. What's best is to find what you wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't put your foot there.

First year teasel in shade growing in grass and other plants
Below the hawthorn so many plants I could have written a post by choosing nothing
more than one square foot of ground.
Prominent in this picture is a teasel plant. (Dipsacus.)
They're odd, teazles.
In their first year they stay small. In their second they grow tall.
And it seems you can spell their name any old way you like.
I like the 'teasle' way. Which is probably the wrongest.

There's more information on the special page for Stuck Footers. If you'd like to be added to the page as a blogger who occasionally writes a Stuck Foot post - let me know and I'll add a link to the page.
Stuck Foot link boxes will be sprinkled through the year.
Here are the dates
August 21st
November 21st
March 21st

* * *
Other News
There are two new links on the 'Identifying Things' page.

SEDUMS (Rebecca's Bird Gardens) - Sedums can be found as much growing in the wild as in gardens and their variety seems almost endless. Try looking on walls and between the stones in car-park gravel. (I was inspired to look around for Sedum information by Amanda's post about urban wild plants - Urban Plants at the Town Hall.

BRITISH BUGS (Shield Bugs and Co.) This is a site still under construction but there's already much there. The photos are wonderful. The creatures extraordinary. Many beautiful. (The British Bugs site is run by Tristan Bantock. You can find him on Twitter at -  

* * *
Here's a Stuck Foot Post I wrote in July.
If you'd like to join me in writing a Stuck Foot Post for August . . .
there will be a link box on the 21st.
It will open at 7am (UK time) and close on September 1st at 7pm.
Loads of time to take part.
Easy to remember - 21st to the 1st.

Sunday, 23 September 2012

HAWS!

I knew it, I knew it. Come autumn, I'd lose balance. All is everything. Thistle down everywhere. New leaves, new flowers, popping up by surprise.

Tree tops showing bright red haws (hawthorn berries) and ivy against a blue sky.

Tree tops showing bright red haws (hawthorn berries) and ivy flowers against a blue sky.
Ivy buds are silhouetting themselves against the skyline. They are making stars in the foreground. Christmas is already there in the hedgerows. Why wait for holly berries to ripen? We are blasted by haws.

New (red) hawthorn leaves in autumn.
One is always surprised by latecomers.
Don't know why.
There are always some - like these new hawthorn leaves
.
 
I couldn't choose between them.

We'll have have them all!

For this one - haws.
(The fruits of hawthorn.) 
Thistles will come.

(And a view to follow.)

I tire of summer.
I didn't discover spring till my camera revealed it.

But autumn?
Flowers and (the almost obligatory) hoverflies - and berries.

Autumn is where it's at.
And it's beginning!

Branch of bright red haws (hawthorn berries) on a branch by path

Saturday, 1 September 2012

BEFORE THE POWER GAVE OUT


Yellow Flowers

The only connection between these pictures is that the moment I left my house, the sun went in; and the moment I turned my camera on a little sign came up to say the battery was about to give out; so I rushed at it. What could I do before it rained (which it didn't - the sun shone as soon as I was back inside) and the camera went on strike?
Insect (wasp?) on yellow flower
Cur from the picture on the right.




Yellow flowers are always cheerful and almost irresistible to many flying insects!


ar of Convolvulus Leaves




This convolvulus pillar has fascinated me for months. If it were to flower, it would look spectacular but, so far, it has merely dangled from a hawthorn tree.

Blackberries Ripening





Speaking of trees - the elder tree I've been following is doing so little now so I'll watch blackberries ripen.

Red Haws

Overall - whenever you go outside, dull or sunny, summer or autumn (at present it's a bit of a mix) . . . there's always something to see.

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

FOOL, IF YOU THINK IT'S OVER

. . . I'ts just begun.


Blackberry eating sometimes seems the highlight of the hedgerow year.


By the time they wither and become tasteless, we have to agree with nature that winter is on its way.




But, really, this is just the beginning. Seeds are almost ready for a new start. Growth doesn't start with spring, not really - autumn is where it begins.





Humans plant most of their seeds in the spring, when the weather is beginning to warm. Wild Fennel is dropping its sowing its seeds now.



Roses are passed but their hips make great displays


Haws which began as May Blossom earlier in the year are beginning to shrivel and age


And the skins of sloes are wrinkling. (Sloes are Blackthorn fruits.)


I don't know what this plant is called.

It's low growing with densely packed, white umbels. I don't like it at all . . . until the flower vanishes and its seeds are left behind.  Wonderful!



Viper's Bugloss flowers are over and the plant is now transformed into a stick of silver prickles. Tiny seeds are now falling from the cups which have held them while they ripened.


The hedges are fluffy with Old Man's Beard (the seed protections for Traveller's Joy - wild clematis). This year, they are smaller than usual - but just as lovely.



Seed upon seed . . . did you notice?
Grass? Wild Barley? Can't see that it has come from anywhere immediately above. Bird or wind delivered.


And back to ground level.


'Fool, if you think it's over . . . it's just begun' A song sung by Elkie Brooks. She wan't singing about Autumn but . . just look at those seeds fall.

All photos for this post were taken on the afternoon of October 25th 2011.