Small things . . . Saturday 30th August, 2014 Small things amuse small minds. If one misinterpreted that saying and assumed that "small things" referred to "small physical size" rather than "things of little significance" then I would have to plead guilty to having a very small mind. I have always been fascinated by small things - tiny flowers and insects (although I draw the line at spiders). I started thinking about this after receiving an email from a friend about a fantastic holiday at the Victoria Falls which included a sunset cruise up the Zambesi with sightings of elephant, hippos and crocodile. A wonderful experience and majestic beasts - but they are not close to my heart like our British butterflies and bumblebees. This seems wrong, as my my early life was all spent in Natal. But although I grew up in Africa I really lived in books - and the books that I read were almost exclusively English. Apart from being addicted to Enid Blyton adventures, four books made an impression on my early years. We didn't own many children's books but we did have a copy of The Secret Garden. I didn't realise that there was an underlying message until I checked the date of publication recently and read that Frances Hodgson Burnett was a Christian Scientist and the plot revolves around the power of positive thought and common sense triumphing over accepted medical theories. I was just delighted by the friendly robin and the idea of reclaiming a neglected garden.
There was another book that we owned, of which I only have only the vaguest memories. It must have also been pre-war or earlier. It was about some people who became incredibly small. I have been unable to discover the title of the book. All I remember is that the miniature people were so small that grass was like a forest, raindrops were dangerous and I think there was something about pollen as a food source and using the exoskeletons of diatoms as baskets.
But my real favourites were two books about the fictionalised lives of wild ponies on Exmoor and Dartmoor which were in the children's section of the Durban library. I must have read them a number of times before I was ten because we left Durban North then. There was a common theme to all these books. A fictional plot to hold the interest combined with a factual description of nature and the British countryside. Back in the here and now it is Manx Grand Prix fortnight. Normally we walk up through the trees on Skyhill in peace but on Sunday the noise of the bikes screaming up the mountain road drowned out the usual cooing of wood pigeons and the occasional twittering (of small birds not self-obsessed celebs). We paused at the top and I took another photo of glen which included the old quarry in the foreground. This time Snaefell and Claugh Ouyr were both visible.
Then I zoomed in on mountain road. it wasn't possible to zoom enough to see the bikes clearly so I ended up with some boring pictures of the side of the hill and an occasional van. On Wednesday we walked up through Brookdale to see the heather and this time we got all the way to the top.
Wednesday was a race day and we reached the mountain road before the bikes arrived from Douglas. The roads had closed and the only other people up on the hill were a few sheep and some bored marshals.
While we waited for the first bikes to come past, I took photos of the heather with the northern plain in the distance . . .
. . . and the heather with Guthrie's memorial in the background . . .
. . . and finally, a few patches of heather, some sheep and a blurred bike!
On Friday we walked up though Brookdale again but varied the route. We followed a track that we hadn't been on since the larches were felled. It is sad to see the trees littering the hillside but there are some advantages. The extra sunlight has done wonders for the blackberry crop. And new views have opened up.
This speckled wood was enjoying the sunshine on a previously shady path.
My first task of the autumn gardening schedule is almost complete. I set myself a deadline of the end of August to finish cutting back the ferns and will be tackling the last few tomorrow. The second task will be to clear the weeds/wild flowers from the patches of spring bulbs. The tips of the snowdrop and daffodil leaves emerge quite early in winter and it is best not to walk on the beds once they start growing. There are many signs of the change in the seasons now. The sun is rising later in the morning. When I woke at twenty past six on Tuesday there was a golden glow shining through the curtains. My first sunrise since last winter.
We saw the first "autumn leaves" in Brookdale.
And great news for the blackbirds - a good crop of autumn berries. As well as the "haws on the thorn" and the hips on the rose there are ripening berries on the rowans . . .
. . . and on the cotoneasters.
The winds are becoming stronger too. We had to drag a fallen ash branch off the path last time we walked on Skyhill. And part of our old dead, ivy-clad, willow broke off on Wednesday night. It was heavy but luckily not too heavy for us to move. I managed to roll it across to the steps and then Tim came out to help and we dragged it up the steps and left it under the rhododendron.
The willow was still very much alive when we bought the property over twenty years ago although it had obviously fallen over when it was young. The trunk rested on the ground for about ten feet and then curved up and forked. The Schipperke boys loved climbing up the tree when they were puppies. They were little dare-devils, especially Alexander. Later, during an autumn gale, one of the main branches twisted and tore away from the trunk. We decided to cut both main branches back to the fork and leave the main trunk in place. The remains of the willow trunk after about five or six feet broke off.
We had another visit from a hummingbird hawkmoth. I was walking up towards the summerhouse when I saw it hovering over the knapweed on Friday. I rushed down to fetch my camera but it had gone by the time I returned. This is the third time that I have seen one in the garden this summer. The only photos that I managed to take are in the post dated 21st June. There are still a few flowers - and butterflies. I wanted to get a good photo of a white butterfly on some purple knapweed but there were no whites around. While I was taking a photo of a comma on some oregano, a red admiral settled on a knapweed flower. Not the colour scheme that I wanted but I took its photo anyway.
I haven't used a photo of our hebes yet. We have a few different types. This is a pink seedling which had a white-flowered parent. I am not sure whether the pink genes are a throwback or whether they are the result of cross-pollination. The white parent hebe was the only one which had these narrow leaves but we have a different type with pink flowers.
And my favourite "small things" this week are the cyclamen growing through a ground cover of Soleirolia soleirolii. This little bright green plant has a number of common names, including baby's tears, angel's tears, mind-your-own-business, peace-in-the-home, mother of thousands, and the Corsican curse. The last two names probably refer to its ability to spread too far and too fast.
Still summer . . . but only just. Saturday 23rd August, 2014. I am not sure whether there are more late broods of baby birds this year or whether I am being more observant than usual. I saw three youngsters on Sunday. First a thrush, with feathers that looked too pristine for an adult or a spring baby. It landed briefly on the terrace under the bird feeder. It might even have been a sibling of the fatality that I found in the garden last week. The young dunnock has also been back but it keeps disappearing before I get to the window with a camera.
I did get a photo of the third visitor though - a very young robin. It must have just started fending for itself and was still uncertain about which things were suitable robin food. I watched it pecking at leaves under the Kowhai tree for a while and then took out a handful of sunflower seeds and scattered them under the tree. All the birds flew off and I didn't see whether the young robin returned to eat the seeds - but he was back the next day.
I have had to revise my opinion of hydrangeas. I always thought they were vain plants interested only in their appearance with no value apart from adding a splash of colour to the garden in late summer but now I think that this applies only to the mopheads with their clusters of colourful bracts. I have been watching the bees and hoverflies gathering pollen from the tiny true flowers in the centre of the lacecap blossoms . . . and as you can see the pollen bags on this bee's hind legs are full.
Even though I am overstocked with hydrangeas, I couldn't resist pinching some prunings which had been discarded in the skips at the tip. The flowers were a more intense blue than any of mine. I couldn't reach them but Tim has longer arms and retrieved a few pieces for me. I trimmed them into eight cuttings. I hope they don't all grow but I think it is unlikely because most were softwood and I think the older wood roots better. Summer started earlier than usual this year and was hotter than usual - a mixed blessing because the grass behind the house suffers in hot, dry weather. I can empathise because I wilt in the heat too. Autumn and Spring are normally our longest seasons. We have hardly any really hot weather and very little extreme cold but plenty of inbetweenish days. There is an old saying in England about summer being three hot days and a thunderstorm. The same could apply to the Island but we don't always get the thunderstorm. It has been feeling like the beginning of autumn for a couple of weeks with a pleasant chill in the air in the morning, but on Tuesday it started to look like autumn. After heavy showers overnight we woke to bright sunshine and I noticed, for the first time, that the berries on the hawthorn had turned red. Exactly three months ago the trees were covered with white blossom.
The big event of the week has been the daily fern trimming. I have nearly finished cutting the ferns which overhang the ditches but there are more on the banks. It is the first year that I have cleared the ditch without any Schipperkes to keep me company. The boys used to walk up and down in the ditch "supervising" and I had to take care not to snip off the ends of their curly tails. I did have some company though - a new supervisor. On Monday one of the semi-moulted young robins watched my progress with interest. A second one came to join us but was attacked by the first one and beat a hasty retreat. I also saw someone, very small and very fast, running along the bottom of the ditch on Monday. It might have been a pigmy shrew but it was gone almost before I saw it. The young robin was back the next morning. It likes to perch on the edge of the big black bucket that I use to carry the ferns down to the garage. Unfortunately it keeps getting frights when I drop a handful of ferns into the bucket. I think it was the same robin that was watching me the previous day but it is hard to tell one bird from another as they are almost identical. Wednesday was yet another day in the ditch being supervised by the young robin - this time working in the shallow ditch next to the terrace which used to be a "road", below the old hollies growing on the bank at the top of the garden. This bit of "road" led from the original cottage on the croft to a water tank in a neighbouring field. While I was working in a sunny midge-free area I put my hat down on the old willow trunk and was amused to see my little companion perched on it. I wasn't quite so amused to find that he had left a small deposit. Tim laughed and said that the robin had paid his respects to my hat - a joke which dates back many years to the day a friends' dog lifted his leg against the plaque at St Patrick's keeill and someone commented "Barney is paying his respects to the saint!" Showers were predicted on Thursday. So I had a break from gardening and we walked up through the plantation in the morning. On the way down to the gate, I paused to take this photo of a white heather plant. According to the gypsies (I don't think that is a very PC term but I am not sure what I am supposed to call them now), white heather brings luck. I don't know about that but this must be a lucky plant because it is the only one of a little pack of six that has thrived. Some were dug up or over-fertilised by neighbouring cats and a couple just didn't seem to like our damp, shady garden.
When we reached the top of our walk, Snaefell was covered with cloud but I zoomed in on The Neary, an old ruined farm above the glen. I liked the contrast in muted colours . . . the yellowing fields of pasture grass above the green bracken-covered slopes, with the purple haze of heather moorland in the background.
This shrub/small tree must be a gift from a visiting bird. It came up next to the ditch below the holly bank. I didn't pay it much attention and just assumed that it was another cotoneaster. We have an upright variety as well as the horizontalis and they both self-seed. But Tim pointed out that it was different from the cotoneaster. I had a close look and then did some research. It turned out to be a Luma apiculata or Chilean myrtle aka Orange bark myrtle. It is attractive in an understated way, with decorative bark; glossy, aromatic leaves; and little white flowers. No berries yet but it produced a few last year and I have read that they are edible.
On the way back to the house after photographing the myrtle, I noticed this flowering apple mint with a backdrop of ripening plums. The surviving bit of the plum tree is in rather an exposed place and branches often blow off in the winter gales. The plums will be disappointing this year because I neglected to thin out the fruit again.
This photo of some wild angelica growing near the plum tree reminds me that I must make an effort to cut back or weed out the feverfew before it scatters seed all over the garden. I like it - but it can become too much of a good thing.
After I got home from shopping in Ramsey yesterday, Tim suggested a walk. For a change, we walked up the glen towards the old quarry. There were clouds lurking around but we were lucky. We went as far as the pretty little mountain stream near the quarry but didn't cross the stream.
Instead we climbed a short distance above the path to look at a new planting of trees. I think these must be part of the Ramsey Forest project. I found this entry on their Facebook page: 20 August 2013 Ramsey Forest has organised its first small woodland planting for the New year. It will be 500 trees in Glen Auldyn to create the first bit of true upland oak woodland. We peered into some of the tubes and identified a few oaks, some birch, an ash and some we weren't certain about . . . which might have been hazel.
Sitting in the clearing enjoying the early afternoon sun was a remarkably relaxed hare. It just sat there while I took four photos - then I turned to tell Tim about it and by the time I looked back it was half way up the hillside.
I have been contemplating the importance of time in a garden. It takes a long time for one small Japanese anemone plant to spread to a clump this size but it could be faked by buying multiple plants . . .
. . . but you couldn't fake the age our ancient hollies. They looked like mature trees in a photo of the glen which could have been taken about a hundred years ago. This one has a more personal history for me. The Schipperkes spent many happy hours sitting amongst these exposed roots guarding our garden from imagined monsters in the plantation - and hoping to get a chance of shouting at the riding school dogs.
A butterfly week - with a sad start. Saturday 16th August, 2014
On Monday I started on the annual trimming of the ferns growing on the banks of our drainage ditch/stream. I thought it would be an unevenful task but while I was working near the side of the garage I heard a clattering noise. Something was walking over the slate on the bottom of the ditch. I expected a cat or a longtail to emerge - but a young thrush waded out from under the canopy of ferns. It was the last thing I expected because we hadn't seen any thrushes in the garden since I photographed one enjoying our raspberries over a month ago. I picked it up intending to find Tim and discuss what to do next - but it started to struggle. So I put it down in a warm dry place near the ditch and decided to offer it a worm. The plan didn't work out well. I am not sure whether the bird tried to peck at the worm and missed or whether it resented being picked up and was trying to discourage me from further overtures. But the result of my clumsy attempt at bird feeding was that my finger got pecked, the worm fell into the weeds and the bird shot off into some tall plants. I wondered whether the young thrush had been blown out of a nest in a large conifer near the wall behind the ditch and went inside to do some research into thrush nesting habits. One article said that young thrushes often leave the nest before they are ready to fly and that the parents continue feeding them on the ground. The most sensible course of action seemed to be to avoid working in that part of the garden in the hope that the parents would find their youngster . . . but I wasn't very hopeful about a happy outcome. These incidents seldom end well. Unfortunately I was right. The next morning I found a little body on the drive.
But I couldn't stay sad for long. There is nothing better than the sight of a rainbow to lift the spirits.
I finished that section of the ditch on Thursday morning and thankfully there was no sign of a fallen nest or of other sibling fatalities. It is sad when a baby bird dies because the parents work so hard at feeding them but I try to remember that there has to be a balance between the number of surviving birds and the food available. Man is the only animal with the unfortunate ability to manipulate the food supply and overpopulate the world. Last week I tried to magic some small copper butterflies . . . without success which was only to be expected because I haven't believed in magic since I was about six years old. This week I was luckier with butterflies. I saw two small coppers in the garden as well as a wall brown and a painted lady - all first sightings of the year. I wonder whether I should be a bit less enthusiastic about weeding out sorrel and dock. I read that they are the main food source of the small copper larvae. But, on the other hand, if the butterflies lay eggs on my weeds they may end up being composted when I cut down the old growth in autumn and take the garden refuse for recycling. I shall have to consult my butterfly guru next door. A small copper
The wall brown.
And the painted lady. We don't see them in the garden every year as they are migrants from North Africa and are unable to overwinter in Britain. They migrate earlier in the year so this one is probably the result of an egg laid locally this summer by one of the spring migrants. She (?) spent a long time sunbathing on the warm tiles of the next door house but finally flew over to join the red admirals and peacocks on our buddleia.
While I was up on the patio above the garage spying on butterflies, I noticed that the lace cap hydrangeas looked rather good when viewed from above.
There are a few new flowers too. The tiny pink cyclamen are flowering under the lilac and also under the azalea mollis.
And there is a single spectacular flower on the oriental lily in a pot outside the conservatory.
The butterflies are starting to show an interest in the sedum spectabile. I have two varieties - this is Autumn joy. The little buds are just starting to open. I also have a lighter pink one which flowers a bit later - probably Brilliant. The butterflies prefer Brilliant to the Autumn joy but it often flowers too late for the main flush of butterflies.
It has been a good summer for butterflies. There have been more peacocks, red admirals and small tortoiseshells than I can count. I saw at least ten red admirals on one small buddleia shrub. It is interesting how the populations vary from year to year. When we moved here there were masses of small tortoiseshells. They used to hibernate in our old garage. Then we went through a number of years when they were quite scarce. This year they were back - with a vengeance. A couple of years ago Tim and I manhandled a large chunk of rockery slate from the front garden up to a sunny spot behind the house. We thought the butterflies would like to sunbathe on it. Here are a small tortoiseshell and a peacock taking advantage of the facilities.
I went out with the camera on Friday afternoon and checked the small coppers' favourite spot on the origano near the steps up to the old dead willow. There were no small coppers to be seen but I did get a better photo of the comma which also seems to like that sunny corner of the back garden.
This afternoon we went for a walk in Brookdale plantation. We used to have three excuses for stopping to get our breath or rest our aching legs on hikes . . . picking blackberries, taking photographs, and just admiring the view. The first two applied in this case. I wasn't even tired but I couldn't walk past these juicy blackberries in the clearing near the felled logs. I photographed them quickly before eating them. They tasted as good as they looked.
We had planned to climb up to the top gate near the Mountain Road to photograph the heather. I saw how good it was looking when I drove home along the Mountain Road after an appointment at Noble's Hospital yesterday morning. We changed our minds when we were about half way up. We were both tired and the clouds were looking rather ominous. Instead I took a couple of close-up photos. First this little clump of heather growing amongst the rushes next to the track . . .
. . . then this seedhead - probably Hypochaeris radicata or Common Cat's ear although it may be one of the various types of hawkweed.
On the way down we could see through the trees to North Ramsey and the coast as far as Shellag Point. It wouldn't have been a good time to be walking past Shellag Point. The beach was already mostly under water and it was still an hour until high tide.
The last week of July - and the first comma. Sunday 10th August, 2014 Well, the first week of August has passed in a blur of activity. The garden was full of butterflies but there wasn't much time to photograph them because the house was full of jet-lagged American granddaughters. But I do have some photos which I took the week before the invasion. I was too busy cleaning the house and getting ready for the visit to sort them out and prepare a post for the blog before the visitors arrived. This first photo is a male Garden bumblebee. The males patrol "mating circuits" laying down a scent to attract the queens and this Bombus hortorum appeared to be laying down his pheramones on an old rose blossom which was about to shed its petals - not the brightest of ideas.
Maybe bumblebees are not the most intelligent insects. On one of our walks up through the plantation we saw two buff tailed queens (or same one twice?). She was twisting around like a furry corkscrew apparently trying to burrow into the compacted earth under the pine needles on the path. If she was looking for a suitable place to hibernate it would have been more sensible to find softer ground.
On the subject of bumblebees, a good question for Trivial Pursuit could be "What does a bumblebee do if it is annoyed?" I read that they stop what they are doing and raise one of their middle legs as a warning - and this is true. They do it to me when I get too intrusive with the camera. I mentioned a probable second brood of blackbird babies in the last post. We thought the nest must be in our holly hedge. A couple of days after writing about them, Tim called me and pointed out one of the young ones sitting on top of our garden fence.
It was complaining and obviously waiting for food. I stood by the window for ages waiting to get a photo of the baby being fed but the parent didn't appear. Of course as soon as I gave up and sat down at the computer the father arrived. I was too far away to get a good shot but took one anyway. Just after taking the photo, the baby tried a rather ambitious leap. I don't know whether it was trying to fly but it landed on its father's back and knocked him off the fence. Father fell down in front of the fence onto a cotoneaster and baby disappeared behind the fence into the hedge.
About ten days ago we went for a short beach walk from the Cronk to Killane - just over half a mile each way. There was an interesting group of wild flowers near the parking area. I spent some time trying to identify these unusual pods and eventually decided that they are most likely to be sea radish pods.
Near the sea radish plants there was a flourishing patch of mugwort - bollan bane in Manx. This plant has significance on the Island because it is customary to wear a sprig on Tynwald Day. It is said to have magical properties and protect the wearer from harm.
On a small flat area of silt and sand between the mouth of the Ballaugh River and the car park, I saw an impressive patch of tufted vetch.
Near the vetch were a few mayweed plants . . . probably sea mayweed but it may be scentless mayweed . . . and the inevitable bumblebee.
Then I saw some flowers which I didn't recognise. They appeared to belong to the labiate family and I wondered whether they were a variety of wild mint. When I got home I discovered that they were marsh woundwort. I have hedge woundwort in the garden but hadn't seen the marsh variety before. The flowers are similar to the hedge woundwort but are paler, and the leaves are a different shape - longer and narrower.
Before we walked up the beach, I couldn't resist taking a photo of this colourful and exceptionally healthy looking crop of dock seeds. I am glad they are a safe distance from my garden. Docks have a long tap root and are difficult to eradicate from flower beds. It is useful to have a few leaves handy to crush and apply to nettle stings but if you give them an inch . . . .
The tide was a long way out and we thought of walking as far as the wreck at Jurby Head but as we made our way along the beach we realised that the tide had turned and was coming in fast. The wreck would have been under water by the time we reached it so we turned back at Killane.
I have been keeping my camera handy and looking out of the kitchen window hoping to spot a juvenile dunnock or a young moulting robin. I saw a young dunnock the other day but it scuttled off into the undergrowth and I only got a photo of its back which was no good because I wanted a picture of the speckled breast. But I was more successful with this little robin - half way to getting his adult red breast.
There are very few new flowers at this time of year although some of the summer flowers are still looking good. The Japanese anemones are flowering well this year and the blue cranesbill geranium has produced a second flush of flowers.
One of the latest of the summer flowering perennials is this red astilbe which shows up well against a backdrop of hydrangeas.
This hydrangea seems to be slightly schizophrenic - doesn't know whether it wants to be pink or blue.
While I was mowing on Thursday afternoon, I thought "I haven't seen a small copper so far this year . . . or a holly blue since spring." and at that very moment a holly blue flew past and disappeared up into the trees. I tried thinking "I haven't seen a small copper" again but the magic didn't work twice and no small copper appeared. The only "new" butterfly in the garden this week was this comma. It is the only one I have seen in the garden so far this year. The second photo shows the mark on the underside of the wing that gives the butterfly its common name.
