Category: Nature
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The Midnight Hour
Poetry is said to be the language of nature. Possibly the most well-known of poets to have a deep affinity with the natural world is William Wordsworth. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud is perhaps one of his most famous poems. British poet and novelist Mary Webb (1881-1927), like myself, specialised in nature. I must…
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What do I see, there in the tree?
There he hides, the lovely migrant hawker. Soft facial colours making him recognisable. Hanging from the hedgerow. Some of these areas around the meadow have been cut back, tidying done around the resting places of local parishioners. Not so this section, retaining longer branches for visitors like her. Pheromones do not play a prominent part…
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Completely Bonkers
Nature at its most natural! Taking advantage of the one sunny day. These common soldier beetles are so amusing. I’ve spent hours watching their antics (not just mating) over the last few years. Laughter is the best medicine. This video I took – even when Parkie is at his shaking, all is forgotten and this…
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On A Mission
There on a coastal path appeared a peacock-caterpillar, in all its spiked beauty. Despite the long grass and other salt tolerant vegetation along the banks, this creature prefers the same terrain that people on foot or bicycles frequent. Even a helping hand into the grass did not deter its purpose. Those spikes were rather misleading,…
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Hiding In The Grass
It’s been so cold and wet, with few of the flying insects around. Hiding in the long grass this little weevil would have been missed, had I not been bored. The single glimpse of a dragonfly disappearing over the hedge and a newly emerged speckled wood butterfly feeding on bramble flowers were the only winged…
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Not a pretty sight
I spied this rather unappealing caterpillar in the hedge. So was delighted to discover (with the help of others) that this solitary creature was a purple hairsteak caterpillar. Not what I expected, although obvious similarities, it was the wrong colour. But like so many varieties they alter during different instars. Very confusing! They prefer oak…
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Graveyard Music
Bird songs fill the air. A large black bumble isn’t to be out done, as she buzzes around absorbing the heat of this late spring day, while I sit amongst the longer grasses and flower-heads in the shade. The shadows of the firs and the cool smell of dampness not yet fully gone after weeks…
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Down by the mill pond
Like a giant tungsten light tracing the contours of the mill pond sides, sun-rays move across the terrain and the grasses comes alive. Then my eyes follow as passing clouds cause parts to drift into shade. Trees sway erratically as the strong north-westerly winds blow – their branches (barely in leaf) dappling the waters below.…