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?

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

PATHS AND THINGS

Blackthorn blossom is far from covering
the bushes yet
but it's beginning to bulk up;
a few clusters now
rather than an occasional flower.

Writing this post has been something of a struggle. I'd decided to write about paths - paths for humans and paths created by animals (mostly by dogs, foxes and badgers round here). It gives a bit of context - something which, I think, is often missing on Loose and Leafy. From time to time I try to make up for this but doing so has challenges. For one thing, I am privileged to have access to such a rich and varied environment, the wider scene could easily nudge out the detail - and it's the style of this blog that I focus on small details. (Leaves - rather than trees; what one can find without moving a foot.) Another challenge is that, because this is the internet, I prefer to be hazy about some locations. I say 'some' because several are utterly distinct and some unique! There's no getting away from the silhouette of Portland! And, finally, Dorset is such an incredibly beautiful and interesting area, Loose and Leafy could easily become an outpost of Tourist Information; an advertisement for wonderful holidays.

Writing a post about paths hit all these challenges, plus three more. One, that I took so many photos for it, I'd have needed to change the name of the blog to 'Trodden Ground'. Two, that there are other things I wanted to fit in today - it is spring, after all! The third challenge is that there are paths interesting enough to include in a wider-context post but which aren't, I find, the richest source of material for Loose and Leafy.

Never mind - here goes with a random selection and a truncated version. We'll start wide - and narrow down.

This, clearly, is the route of an old railway line. You can see the remains of a long platform on the left. A few years ago, someone proposed re-introducing trains and tracks. It would have been a lot of work and a lot of expense but the man who brought forward the idea had a lot of enthusiasm and, I think, saw it as an ecological idea - a way of encouraging people to use public transport (even if privately operated) rather than cars.

The vegetation along here does not look exciting at present but there are lots of brambles and gorse.
In the summer the air vibrates with heat and pollinators.
Quite a few small flowers - like vetches and cranesbill - grow along the sides.

I think the train enthusiast was taken aback by the vehemence of opposition. This path is incredibly well used. Finding a moment when there aren't people in view is very difficult, especially on a sunny weekend, Sometimes, parts of it get so crowded it is hard to find a route through. I took photos of it being busy - locals going to and from town, walkers, joggers, people with tripods and binoculars who'd come to spy birds, and children learning to ride bikes they were bought for Christmas which have been brought back out again now the weather is getting warm - but as I avoid pictures of people when I can, I decided to show you what it looks like in a calm moment. The person in the distance and the shadow of a cyclist can represent all those who use it. They are good symbols. It can be a peaceful place to walk but there are also conflicts between cyclists who think it's a 'proper' road and people on foot - who don't.

This is part of The Hamm -
the path which runs along the causeway to Portland.
This may not seem hopeful ground for plant watching but . . .
just wait!
Before long, there will be a sea of pink thrift along here.

This area, down in a dip and surrounded by Holm Oaks,
is genuinely short of plants all year round.
In part this is because of the trees.
In part because it's a good place for people to
clamber about a bit or
to abandon supermarket shopping trolleys.

Here's a way to the sea. The reeds are a bit higher than I am.
(I first showed this photo on my other blog, Message in a Milk Bottle.)

Here's a way I never go! It's a way made by animals. I doubt even children go down here.
As well as foxes and badgers - rats and squirrels take advantage of these cuts.

Here's the path between the elders we are following.
In the winter, there's room for children.
Already though, vegetation is beginning to crowd in.
Before long, it will be almost impassable.

The elder shoot we have been following (up on one of the branches) has hardly changed. Others near it are growing faster. I'm glad I chose this shoot though because it means I can keep taking pictures of the lichen as well - Common Orange' (Xanthoria parietina).

* * *

One of my first incentives to follow the progress of a particular tree or patch of ground was when some of the trees round here were cut back in what seemed to me to be a brutal and haphazard way. I was concerned rot would get into the bare and ragged ends of small branches. Some were on trees I recognised. But there was one tree - with beautiful twigs, chestnutty red, which I simply couldn't identify. Not in a way I could be confident of.

I am on Twitter and a friend there suggested silver birch. I said I'd go and look at the lower part of its trunk once the undergrowth had died back for winter. I could never get there. It is as protected as effectively as the sleeping princess was by brambles and briers. Just before the nettles grow up and the leaves break out to make the trunk invisible as well as inaccessible, I've managed to zoom in (hurray for cameras!) and get a glimpse.

Looks right?

And another ID problem. As I've mentioned before, I find it difficult to tell the difference between maples and sycamores in their variety.

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a book which may help with this because it has examples of the different shapes of their seeds. The ones on the tree where this twig grows will be specially lovely. (I know from passed years.)

It will be a long wait. These leaf buds seem pretty static.

* * *

I'm Following a Tree

Are You? 

___

If you have posted recently about the life of a particular tree you are 'following', let me know and I'll put a link here.


On the Edge Gardening
Warts and All
(Beech)
Lichfield Lore
Sticking it Out
(Cider Orchard)

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FEBRUARY PRICKLES

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

(Apologies!)

WALKING INTO THE BLUE

There's a little path I like. It goes down to a little beach - and I often go there. You've been with me before. It takes about one and a half minutes to walk down and the same coming back - probably less- yet the undergrowth is so dense and varied, I could write a post a week about this one short stretch and there would still be more to see.

This is a little of what I saw on 17th November 2011.

At the top of the path - Chicory Flowers.

A few years ago, I complained to our local council that it cut back blackberry bushes when fruit was on them - and, at the same time, raised questions about the spring trim in relation to nesting birds. I don't claim it was my email alone which got it changed. Indeed, it may have had absolutely nothing to do with it but, since then, the autumn tidy has happened later - and they've just done it so only the shorter chicory plants are still standing. They've had a bit of a tough time this year because the spring trim happened immediately after the first were tall. They are one of my favourite plants so I was pleased when others grew to replace them. I will miss the tall white stems they would have left through the winter if they'd been left uncut but there's no point in a path if you can't walk along it!

Summer here lasts long - right into autumn. Here's a Viper's Bugloss plant. It too has been cut. It has to be done - but look it was still in flower when it fell!

Also at the top of the path - a small maple. (You'll know from previous posts that I'm no good at distinguishing trees in this group so you may say "No! It's a sycamore!" or . . .) (I hope you won't pop up and say no! It's rhubarb!)

The light is uncertain. It flickers between sun and no-sun. The sea is impressive whatever the weather but, since this post is called 'Walking into the Blue', let's choose a sunny moment.

It's evening in mid-November so the sun is low and there's a glare on the water. It's also the time of year when seaweed washes up in bunches.

Back up the path and, caught in the blackberries (you could cut them back for a million miles and we wouldn't run out of blackberries!)  . . . keys from the maple / sycamore / (or even rhubarb!).

Autumn.

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