Sunday 7th September, 2014
Just when we thought autumn had arrived, the weather changed its mind and turned from cool, wet and windy to warm, dry and calm. Apart from a sprinkling of rain on Friday night the forecasts have been for zero rain every day since the beginning of September. It has been perfect weather for tidying the garden.
For the first time ever, I finished cutting the ferns by the end of August but it was almost a dead heat. I wasted a couple of hours on Sunday - trying to replace a defective drive belt on the lawnmower - before starting on the ferns. The lawnmower job took longer than anticipated because we didn't have the right tools. Normal screwdrivers were no good for four of the screws and one of the screws was impossible to shift with our beat-up old allen key. I drove to the accessories shop at the filling station in Ramsey - twice. The first time I got two allen keys - which looked similar to the one we had been trying to use. Neither one fitted. So I returned with one of the screws as a sample and the man in the shop found a suitable fancy screwdriver that fitted. The job was easy after that - but when I was mowing the grass on Wednesday the mower made a brief shrieking noise every time it was switched on. I checked the internet and someone had the same problem with a new belt and fixed it by loosening the belt. I will have to make an adjustment to the tension before I mow again.
On Monday I started clearing the daffodil bed under the hawthorns. The robin was happy. He enjoys weeding more than fern cutting because I dig up an occasional worm.
Tuesday was devoted almost entirely to shopping in Ramsey and medical appointments. I did manage to follow the hypertension nurse's instructions to go on a daily brisk walk when we got back from Douglas but didn't take any photos. There are no photos of the heather up by the mountain road either - because I forgot to take my camera when we drove to Douglas.
Wednesday was no better because I was too tired to go anywhere after mowing the grass. I decided that mowing was more than the equivalent of a brisk half hour walk.
On Thursday we did our regular Skyhill walk. I recorded some of the fungi that we passed on our way up the hill.
Top left. Fly Agaric. The only toadstool I can positively identify. The first one I have seen this year - but a slug obviously saw it before I did.
Top right. Similar to the Fly Agaric - apart from the colour. May be a relative.
Lower left. The most common of the fungi growing under the conifers
Lower right. One of those weird ones without gills - with an artistically slug-carved stem
Learning to identify the various fungi seems to be an almost impossible task. Photographs are not enough. If you want to learn to identify fungi, you really need to collect samples so that you can touch and smell the mushrooms as well as checking the colour of their spores. Even then it is possible to make mistakes. It is easiest to leave them in peace and just enjoy their beauty or weirdness in their natural habitat.
We stopped at the gate into the paddocks to take a photo of Ramsey - in soft focus through the light smog. The wind has been blowing from the east for a few days - bringing dirty air from industrial northern Europe. Luckily for us, the prevailing winds are from the south west and travel over thousands of miles of ocean. The only land they cross before reaching us is Ireland.
On Friday we decided to go on a beach walk - an old favourite from the parking area north of the Mooragh Promenade to The Dog Mills. The tide was a long way out. Although it was still murky, we were hoping for rain in the evening to wash the air.
There wasn't much to photograph on the beach. Very few birds, just a couple of herring gulls and of course the inevitable oystercatchers wading in the shallows and probing the wet sand with their ridiculously big beaks.
I found this piece of flint - with the stone showing through worn patches in the chalky covering.
Further up the beach there were a few razor shells.
We turned back when we reached the wooden steps up the eroded bank to The Dog Mills.
The reason for the curious name of this little cluster of houses has been lost in the mists of time. I did once wonder whether the name could be a corruption of an old norse name. This has happened with Foxdale which was originally Forsdal (Fors = waterfall and Dal = valley) and Skyhill which was originally Scacafell (Jutting Hillside) in Norse. I have read that the name of our hill was pronounced "Skyall" (like trial) by the Manx before the English decided on Skyhill. My Norse theory had to be discarded because I found out that The Dog Mills is just a translation of the older Manx name Mwyllin-Moddey (Mill of the Dog).
I read that there are two local theories to explain the name. The first is that there was a mill there that made a noise like a whining dog. The other is that "a dog in a trundle-wheel" was used to raise water in times of drought. Not knowing what a "trundle-wheel" might be I resorted to Google and discovered that it is one of those little wheels that are pushed along to measure distance! This seems rather weird because I had imagined a sort-of giant hamster wheel. The idea of a dog pushing a trundle-wheel to measure its walks amused me, but I cannot see how it would be an effective way of pumping water. Perhaps there are two meanings.
On the way back to the car we passed a couple walking with eleven dogs! They all looked like border collies. Enough energy there to power several dog mills!
On the way home we had to stop. Traffic in the glen road was being held up by some mallard. They are rather arrogant ducks and get quite cross when they are chased off the road. It is a regular occurrence and is quite amusing - unless we are late for an appointment.
While we were waiting for the ducks to move on, I took a photo of the first real autumn leaves on a horse chestnut near the road. The chestnuts are always the first to change colour and the first to get their new leaves in spring.
There was only the slightest sprinkling of rain on Friday night but the wind changed direction and on Saturday the air was sparkling again. We walked up through Brookdale plantation and as we approached the clearing we could see two ferries, probably on the Fleetwood to Larne route, crossing just north of the Point of Ayre.
I saw one interesting toadstool growing under the patch of broad-leafed trees . . .
. . . and a late sprig of wild honeysuckle. I rather like the old name . . . woodbine.
Not much new in the garden. The first colchicum autumnale alba (autumn crocus) poked its head out of the ground and was promptly chewed through by a slug. I dropped the bud into an old dog bowl in the garden and it opened! Now some more buds have emerged but the larger one already has a hole.
The slugs don't like fuchsias, thank goodness. I have some plants in the terrace below the rose bed. I bought them more years ago than I care to remember. They were a small collection of tiny plants in the supermarket. They had been reduced in price because they were half dead. The plants were intended for hanging baskets and pots on patios but I am not a house plant enthusiast so I planted them in the garden. They have surprised me by surviving - even flourishing during good years. They die back in cold winters but always shoot up from the base of the plants in spring.
PS I think I may have to invest in a crash helmet to protect myself from low-flying robins. I was clearing the daffodil bed under the rowan this afternoon and there were a couple of robins chasing each other around and competing for the worms. They got rather over-excited and nearly crashed into me a couple of times!
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