This winter our walk in and out of town has often featured, at ground level, a young heron, who seemed to be making a living in the shallows of the River Stour. A few yards upstream the water is much deeper, due to the sluices from the former mill site. This provides deep water and a living for a couple of cormorants who dry themselves on the roof of the sheltered housing block, or else the trees across the road from there.
Well, we’ve always thought of Valentine’s Day as the birds’ wedding day, but this year the bouquet goes to the garden frogs. Mrs Turnstone ran indoors to grab her phone and record the event. We shall have to watch the weather and protect the eggs from frost, if we get any. It is unusually warm. But we have had lying snow in February, half a lifetime ago.
At least we can do a bit for the climate by helping the frogs who choose our pool. That may include covering it to prevent the blackbirds from fishing.
The hazel we planted a few years ago on a scrap of waste land was not in flower on New Year’s Day, but yesterday it had shaken out the first lambs’ tails. Can Spring be far behind?
A peaceful and prosperous New Year to each and every reader! God bless,
Will.
Mrs Turnstone’s delight in the flowering of her white hellebore (or Christmas rose) is worth sharing.
Boxing day is not too late to wish you a very happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.
Will Turnstone.
Mrs Turnstone and I were in Southwell, Nottinghamshire, where we went to see the Mediaeval carved leaves in the Cathedral. The garden of the ruined Palace of the Archbishops of York has been planted to accompany the stone leaves, but this post is about a tree that does not appear inside: the Larch. It appears here as a flame, as its needles turn from green to gold.
The needles close-up. It won’t be long before they fall to the ground; this is the only deciduous conifer in Europe. It is equally beautiful when the new needles appear in spring.
About 10.00 this morning these pigeons had fluffed up their feathers and were clearly enjoying a safe sunbathe.
Willow wands growing through the snow. Calm after the storm.
Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me, When winds rave thro' the naked tree; Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree Are hoary gray; Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, Dark'ning the day! O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! Whether the summer kindly warms, Wi' life an' light; Or winter howls, in gusty storms, The lang, dark night! The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, Till by himsel he learn'd to wander, Adown some trottin burn's meander, An' no think lang: O, sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder A heart-felt sang. Three wintry verses from Burns to mark his day. The Sots dialect is not too difficult here, but just a couple of translations from our third verse. Fand: found. Burn: brook; it crops up in English place-names, Saltburn, Blackburn, etc..
I expect some of the Fordwich allotment gardeners put their own produce on the table over Christmas and New Year, but there was no-one around when we peered through the hazel hedge on 8 January – except for the dancing scarecrow at the back. And there’s a good patch of brassicas to the left, I’m not sure whether it’s kale or cauliflower. Note the leaf broken over the head of the plant; gardeners do this to keep the florets white and deter pigeons.
I hope my chard recovers from the December frosts! Nothing to see there for the pigeons right now.
The Turnstone festive table has always included plenty of home cooking, but this year there were two special ingredients: freshly harvested kale and parsnips, thanks to NAIB and her raised beds.
The King could have eaten nothing fresher or tastier, but allotment holders across the land will have tucked into their homegrown veg from spuds to sprouts. Hello to cousin Jo in Bradford!
A happy new year to all from the Turnstones.
My friend Frog shared these wintry photos, I found them so calming that I’m passing them on to any reader feeling festivally frazzled!
Will Turnstone 