The tipping point . . . or A vintage year for snowdrops?
Monday 16th February, 2015.
There was a dead heat for the title of the post this week. Saturday was warm(ish) and sunny with barely a breeze - almost springlike - and I remarked to James in the supermarket “Perhaps we have reached the tipping point.” He is a keen student of the Island’s weather and replied “But the question is are we tipping forward into spring or tipping back into winter”. That remains to be seen. The Island is good at surprises. It is only two years since we had a devastating blizzard in late March.
We have some memorable years when the weather conditions are ideal for a particular flower. The best thing about the end of summer during the year I was having driving lessons (prior to getting a local driver’s licence) was the wonderful heather on the hills. Another vintage heather year was 2011 when I took this photo of my two Tims - up on the Millennium Way.
This winter was ideal for snowdrops. It must have been the early warmth followed by weather that was cold enough to make them open slowly and fewer gales than usual once they had opened. Perhaps the warmer than usual winter last year was also a factor. I took this close-up in the late evening on Saturday when they had opened fully . . .
. . . and this view of the numerous patches of snowdrops in the back garden . . .
. . . and this compilation, which shows their progress from Christmas Eve when the buds were just starting to show white until the beginning of February.
To get back to this week, there was very little wind until Friday but the days were dull and cloudy. On Thursday I made another “walk up the hill every day” resolution. This is a frequent event because I never keep the resolutions for long.
Thursday (day 1) Nothing of interest to photograph - not even any horses in the paddocks. I took two boring photos of the glen from the top of the plantation. A scene which I must have photographed a thousand times already.
Friday (day 2) Left the camera at home because rain was forecast. I wondered whether there might be a photographic version of Murphy’s Law and that something exceptional would happen because I was cameraless. Probably not. The horses were back in the paddock but weren’t doing anything interesting. The rain held off until we were safely back home but the wind was roaring through the trees up in the plantation. It reminded me of the story about the old Manxmen of the past. It is said that they thought that the noise of the gusts of wind blasting down the glen through the tops of the trees was caused by the hooves of galloping ghost horses.
Saturday (day 3) Turned back about three quarters of the way up as we wanted to go into Ramsey after lunch. I was getting desperate because I only had two unusable photos for this week’s post on the blog. So I took photos of (a) new leaves on the wild garlic at the side of the road. The glen is always green but the vibrant green of new leaves in spring is special.
And (b) The gorse on far side of the paddocks starting to turn gold.
Then off to Ramsey where I took a photo of the work on the “archaeological excavations” in Bowring Road. There has been a lot of progress since the beginning of February. The road is still closed but access for pedestrians between the supermarket and the library has reopened.
On Sunday we decided to revisit the little nature reserve at Poyll Dooey on the banks of the Sulby River in search of photographs. We used to walk there with the dogs but haven’t been back for a couple of years - apart from short visits to relocate unwanted pheasants.
Poyll Dooey - was formerly the Ramsey town tip. The nature reserve was created in the late 1980s and the original trees which were planted are mature now.
The path to Poyll Dooey runs along above the river. Looking back we had a good view of the upstream side of the Bowring road stone bridge.
There are two main sections, the salt marsh area near the river which floods at high tide and the higher grassed area where the trees have been planted. It is semi-wild. To encourage wild flowers, the only mowed areas are paths through the long grass.
We turned down the path, towards the river and the salt marsh area, which passes this interesting stone. Most of the the upright stones like this are surviving slate gate posts from a time when timber was in short supply on the Island. But the diameter of the hole in this stone is unusually large. I wonder whether it might have been used for a rope to tie up a small boat so that it wouldn’t float away at high tide.
Near the stone is the remains of the old cobbled surface of the track.
At the side of the track I noticed a group of scurvy grass plants (aka spoonwort) - probably common scurvy grass Cochlearia officinalis. They will have white flowers later in May. They are obviously not a “grass” but are members of the cabbage family and got their name because they were used to treat scurvy. I tried eating a leaf - years ago - but didn’t enjoy the taste and haven’t felt like repeating the experience.
We crossed the “marsh” which was reasonably dry in search of a small diving bird which I had seen in the distance. It had disappeared by the time we reached the river bank so we walked upstream until we reached an area which brought back memories of the “dog era”. The Schipperkes were impulsive little dogs and never looked before they leapt. They loved to hurtle down the path, jump down the river bank, and paddle in the water. But they never remembered that the Sulby is a tidal river and sometimes instead of landing on the mud flat below the bank they ended up in deep water. I cannot remember how often Tim and I had to kneel down on the wet muddy grass to fish small dogs out of the river. We were lucky that we didn’t end up in the river too because the bank is undermined in places.
We walked up to the higher level. The only wild flowers around were Winter heliotrope - a non-native garden escape which was introduced to the British Isles over 200 years ago. There were a few small clumps of obviously planted snowdrops, some large violently purple crocuses which looked totally out of place and some daffodils. One daff already had a flower.
We walked up to the western end of the park where the white bridge (a pedestrian bridge) crosses the river just above the old ford which is seldom used now.
On our way back to the car park at the supermarket we passed a couple of black headed gulls strolling under the trees and then a fat wood pigeon.
I climbed up a bank to take this photo across the fields towards Skyhill on the right and the cloud shrouded slopes of North Barrule on the left.
Further on we passed the pool. This was established some years ago. It isn’t a natural pool and a liner was laid to retain the water which trickles in from a small stream but you wouldn’t guess that it is an artificial pond.
Below the path at the edge of the river were some mallard ducks. I thought they were sleeping in the middday sun but their eyes were open.
They are very common ducks but the males are rather splendid when the sun shines on their spring plumage. I wondered whether the male which appeared to be sleeping in the water had been caught by the incoming tide - but I checked and the tide was actually on the way out.
And finally, a rabbit. While we were walking along the river bank looking for a good place to photograph the white bridge, I noticed a moorhen on the opposite bank. It promptly disappeared but a little further up the bank this more obliging little rabbit waited until I had taken a zoom photo of it.
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