July, 2021
Thursday 8th
Hedgerows bask beneath green blankets of bracken, spotted purple with cow vetch and creeping thistle, and the clustered buds of sand leeks. Tortoiseshell butterflies are fleeting flashes of black and orange.
Here and there are lace bonnets of pink and white as buds of common yarrow yield their blooms.
The fell is purple with bell heather, its faint paths lost beneath shoulder-high bracken—undergrowth overgrown. As I push gently through the tangle, the air is close and sultry—a jungle.
Monday 19th
Purple crowns of spear thistle sit regally atop their spiky orbs. As the pink-white petals of the brambles wilt, clustered drupelets of blackberry redden with the promise of autumnal fruit. Amid the green swathes of high bracken, blousy blooms of rosebay willow herb court butterflies with lavish flounces of salacious pink.
Tall stems of onion couch fade to hay as the dusty heat of July scorches the hedgerow. And the stem of a dog rose has sprung a mossy orange ball—a robin’s pincushion, conjured by a tiny gall wasp as a haven for her eggs, but named for a capricious faery whose magic could card a week’s wool in a night or churn a day’s butter in a twinkle, but who would undo it all at a stroke if not rewarded with a mess of white bread and milk.
Thanks, George . . . Fortunate aren’t we, having stuff like that on our doorsteps. A lovely read.
Thank you, David. Yes we are very fortunate indeed.
A change of style, George, which is always worth doing to refresh yourself. At times, the intensity of the focus upon the leaves and flowers of the hedgerows was reminiscent of ‘The Wind in the Willows’.
That’s a mighty compliment, Martin. Thank you.
Well that was a treat. So many familiar faces from the New Forest when I was growing up. I’ve not heard that called witches butter, excellent name.
Thank you, Geoff. Delighted you enjoyed it. Witches’ butter is indeed an excellent name.
Brilliant – you are like a Lakeland Richard Jefferies.
Thank you so much, John.
Very nicely done, and informative as always.
Thank you, that’s very kind.
Really good article(s) ! Don’t think I ever heard of Lesser Celandine before. They are among my favorites of your photos. The forget-me-nots too. And the kid.
Thank you, Neil. The kid was adorable. Lesser celandine flower early which makes them a welcome sight. They are supposed to be natural barometers, unfurling their petals in good weather and closing up against the wind and rain. They’re all gone now. Replaced by buttercups or crowfoot, which they superficially resemble l.
I was looking for inspirational poetry in my books yesterday, but found it here in words and wonderful pictures.
Hanna
That’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you do much.
George, thank you for sharing such an enjoyable diary and processional, elegant writing and wonderful photos. The obvious sincerity of this paean to your corner of the earth is heartwarming, and even the intrusion of news from the Ukraine fits in, honest reporting, like becoming aware of ominous buzzing from a disturbed hornet nest. The colors may change and fade, but I will remain green with envy that this wealth of nature is available for your lunchtime strolls.
Thank you, Robert. That’s a wonderful compliment. I love the hornet nest image.
P.S. I’d wanted to comment on your Loweswater article, that the tale of supernatural death has prompted me to add to my List of Dangerous Things to Avoid, Even if Properly Sanitized After Usage Near Wrong End of Horse: “Crupper/Horsey Bits of Demonic Leathergoods Leaping Out At You in Stairwells/Entanglements & Possible Stranglings,” actually a brand-new category.
Yes, very wise. Perhaps they should come with a government health warning.
—and someone asked me the other day: ‘have you any holiday plans this year’?
Christina (Cockermouth)
Yes, indeed! We are very lucky living where we do. Cockermouth is beautiful.