It is Sunday. I love Sunday for in my mind it is a day of rest when the world stops whirling its nonsense at me. Radio 3 will play calm and peaceful music interspersed with bird song, might even get frogs soon, as they make their annual pilgrimage to some pond to produce even more frogs. Little signs will go up on small lanes, 'Frogs crossing' and there will be kind human ushers to help them to cross.
Yesterday I phoned my son in Bath, and there was a crackly noise on the phone, he was outside gardening and raking in the dead material. I laughed with sheer delight, my children have grown up, Mark has become a gardener at his home and my daughter a walker of fairly long distances - so I did have some effect in their childhoods!
There was a beautiful photo of a purple-red miniature iris this morning that took my fancy, and when the snowdrops die down the next lot of flowers will be on show. There will be the marsh marigolds, (Nails of Gold who were brought up in colder Northern climes and they will decorate the sides of ponds and streams. The pale lemon of primroses and the slightly stronger yellow of cowslips. Little wind anemones will bow their white heads in the woods, and the tiny violet will hide in the grass. All surprises to look forward to, tantalising us into summer. The early 'greening' of the willow as they produce their catkins bringing to mind Tolkien's 'Old Willow Man''.
Nature follows the sun, as we do, she is just as eager to blaze forth as we are to see a warmer spring. Thinking back to when I first saw what I would describe as a vibrant grass verge full of wild flowers was on an old trackway from Langridge to the A46. In fact at least Roman if not prehistoric. But the sad fact is the tractor riding up and down this trackway was already crushing this small wilderness into oblivion.
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| Marsh marigolds |
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| Wood violets |
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| Celandine |
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| Wood spurge |
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| Wind (or wood) anemones |
The Idle Flowers by Robert Bridges
There is a good example of ancient cattle management in Langridge. They put a little gate between two fields where three or four natural cattle lines (you know, the deep narrow tracks which Guy Underwood called 'track lines') converge at one point. It saves the hedges.
ReplyDeleteHave not seen that Tom, but do know whenever walking up there that there was always young bullocks around, fresh and frisky. Moss would always dive into another field to keep away from them, and I remember playing 'Grandma's footsteps' with them, as they followed closely behind. You made me look at the old ley line game again. If you look at the dates Alfred Watkins (1855-1935) - The Old Straight Track; Guy Underwood (1883-1964) -The Problem of the Past and then John Michell (1933-2009) - The View over Atlantis. You see an overlap of an idea which has many, many followers. It is a very fascinating theory, but would never stand up in court;)
ReplyDeleteI love to see the flowers coming up when I go for my walks. We don't have much now but I know it will be soon. I love the flower photos you have here, Thelma.
ReplyDeleteOh what a lovely post, Thelma. I saw snowdrops the other day and it just made my day.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Debby. I have seen snowdrops, too.
ReplyDeleteGlad you all enjoyed my 'peaceful break' ;)
ReplyDeleteYou have accidentally taught me something today - the name "wood spurge". I have often seen that plant but never knew until now what it is called. In fact we have some growing up our garden. Wikipedia tells me "The milky latex of the plant is toxic and can cause irritation on contact with the skin". I must remember that in case little Phoebe is playing up there.
ReplyDeleteYes you are quite right. The euphorbias are renowned for that. Also 'blue rue' a pretty foliage leaf but again sunshine and latex will make your skin itch. I had the same problem when my eldest grandson was much younger, my daughter told me to get rid of the plant.
ReplyDeleteYour spurge photo reminded me I must get one for the garden - they are a large family and I do love plants which are 'all green'.
ReplyDeleteThey die so well of course, taking on different colours. I had a patch in the garden and loved the acid yellow of their flower head which turned to bronze.
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