Winter Comes But Once a Year

It has been sometime since last I wrote as I’ve had one of the largest doses of writers block possible. Paper notes seem to have been easy to do, but get me in front of a keyboard and everything would seize up. So now some miles down the road and way behind the times, I’ve now got no idea what bits to write about and which to leave out; which to combine to make single entries and which to make individual events by themselves. Or whether just to abandon all these notes from the past and begin again with the present. Currently as I’m recovering from an operation I’ll have some fun with at least some of the notes from the past, whatever this will be an adventure for all of us and if nothing else I hope that the outcome is interesting and enjoyable.

Heading back to last December this entry comes from the 21 December 2013 and possibly a most suitable topic for what was the first day of winter as it covers the subject of snow.

Standing looking out the door on the evening of this first day of winter, and looking at the recent arrival of snow it seemed a suitable way to welcome the new season in. On this evening it quickly covered the darkened landscape with a soft blanket. It gently rubbed out the limited humps and bumps that showed in the light of the open door and at least temporarily covered the sad remains of last summers vegetation. The snow on this night was perfect for this task. The flakes were large and wet, almost clumping together into large globules as it fell from the sky, but even with this clumpy nature they still managed to float slowly down through the atmosphere, like downy feathers caught on odd currents of air. The snow flakes as they approached the ground then grabbed hold of and coat any available surface.

The twisted branches of the Contorted Hazel made a perfect surface to be coated and soon formed a sort of weird and wonderful modern snow sculpture of twisting columns. While the remaining leaves that still clung to the Buddleja produced large flat surfaces that soon became platelets of snow that slowly drooped under the additional weight, and formed miniature avalanches as the snow lost traction and slid off.

Strange Sculptures – 21 December 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

As these large flakes floated slowly down through the sky and blanket the surrounding world, the thought that came to mind that this could be the beginning of a long cold white coated winter. Obviously though the weather had other ideas for this blanket of snow was not to last any longer than a single night for by the morning all was gone and the scene was just a sodden damp affair. At least here, this was the only snow of the winter, just once in a while I would hear rumours of this white stuff on higher hills in the Scottish Borders, but for this low level valley the rest of the winter was remarkably warm, with even heavy frosts countable on the fingers of a single hand.

Pillars in the Sky

Continuing on the theme of sunrises – this is one of the most special I have seen yet and dates from the 25 November 2013.

Most of the sunrises I see are sheets of colour painted across the sky in a grand scale, using large brushes and vibrant colours, but this one was something different. This one was far more delicate beginning with a pale orange watercolour wash across the horizon. As the sun rose the orange wash spread out across the still night darkened sky, like the slow but inevitable movement of the tide up a beach. Out of this advancing colour, just as the sun broke the horizon, there was what could only be described as someone turning on a powerful arc light that was pointed straight up into the sky, producing a distinct pillar of glowing light. Wow! There was something amazing about it, it looked so much like an actual arc light, but the size and the quality of light just wasn’t right and meant that it could not be man made, it had to be natural. At the same time the new sunlight also highlighted some thin wisps of clouds that wafted across the morning sky, in particular catching the remnants of several aircraft vapour trails and making them shine almost like silver.

Sun Pillar – 25 November 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Later investigation showed that this arc light was the rare phenomenon called a sun pillar. Sun pillars are the combined reflection of sunlight from millions of horizontal ice crystals in the atmosphere and these collective glints form what seems to be a pillar of light.

Flaming Skies

Time seems to have flown and blogs seem to have been thin on the ground. Recently been looking back at some notes and found this which covers the sightings from a number of mornings through November 2013.

November is usually remembered as being a dark and dank month but not last year, in 2013 November was a month of blue skies and bright sunshine, accompanying such wonderful days there were a number of wonderful sunrises. One of the good things about sunrises in November is that they occur at sensible times of the day and can be easily observed without very early rises.

The sunrises of note during November were variations on a theme of fiery reds. It was as though the skies were temporarily painted from a pallet dominated by oranges and reds, ranging from the palest which could almost have been a figment of the imagination through to the rich and vibrant, colour that hit you directly in the face and took no prisoners. The description that follows is just one sunrise that occurred on the 13 November 2013, but all the colourful ones from this period of time, though each original would follow this common theme of reds and oranges.

Flaming Scarlet Skies – 13 November 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

As the new light of day, pushed over the surrounding hills and began to burn the dark of night away, the sky began to lighten and colour beginning gently with the palest shades of orange, tingeing the edges of the few clouds available. As time moved on the oranges become brighter and warmer producing a mass of colour, all in varying shades of orange and all wonderfully warm. No time to linger and contemplate for the scene did not stand still, it continued to develop with every passing second. Soon the oranges began to brighten again, as though the sky had caught fire and the heavens had begun to glow, like the coals in the grate of our fire. Throughout this phase of the sunrise the oranges continued to brighten, becoming redder and more much more scarlet in nature. At the height of the display the sky took on a burning scarlet, rich and vibrant in nature, and almost radiating heat on what was a cold and chilly morning. However, this vibrancy and warmth did not last long and soon burnt out, so that the sky passed rapidly from flaming scarlet to a cooler cherry red, which soon began to fade to leave just the odd remnant of colour to tinge the edge of the morning clouds.

Fading Glories – 13 November 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

November’s wonderful sunrises were not as common as to occur every day or even necessarily every few days, but they were common enough to be remembered for their amazing displays of colours. Its strange, as many times as I see these amazing morning displays, each is unique and original, and with each I have that feeling of wonder that there may still be a bright, fresh new world out there waiting to be discovered.

 

Splashes of Light

The Lost Naturalist has taken her summer hols this year to the remote, at least in terms of internet access, portion of the world, in the form of North Wales. Before any Welsh readers complain, its lost from the internet if you’re staying some miles from the nearest village up a remote valley! There then follows a number of blogs charting just a few adventures from this holiday dating from between the 06 and 20 July 2013, appearing as I get my head together.

The first of these follows and begins with the 07 July, on a hot and sunny day.

On a hot sunny day, when temperatures were racing rapidly upwards, the wonders of an upland stream has a special call, especially one that is wooded and on this hot day we found a wonderful one up Cwm Bychan, where the Afon Artro flowed, cooling and wonderful. The area surrounding the stream had trees that seem to climb straight up towards the sky. From each straight trunk, there emerged a tangle of branches, seemingly in every direction to produce a dense tangled mess, that are then covered with masses of leaves to produce a wonderful dappled shade.

Afon Artro, Cwm Bychan – 07 July 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The nature of shade produced by leaves means that every so often a ray of sunshine escapes through the green barrier and scatters to the ground below. On the lush under storey this splash of sunlight was like a spot light, highlighting the various shades of green and in the brightness almost obliterating the greens to white. Where this spotlight hit the surface of the water it exploded outwards, as though showering a mass of diamonds every which way, to shine for just a moment more. As for the heat, this splash of diamonds were like an invitation to cool the feet in that tumbling water!

An Alpine Moment

Still on a catch up – this blog dates from the 21 June and the first day of summer, though the weather might have been trying to say otherwise!

Still being the Crocked Naturalist rather than the Lost Naturalist, getting anywhere that is more than a just a flat walk is somewhat rare. So the opportunity to take a strange bus journey up the side of a mountain to a slate mine in the Lake District, was not to be sniffed at, even on a day when the cloud was sitting on the mountain tops and Honister Pass looked mean and moody. With the clouds so low that they cut off the mountain tops, just like someone had taken a giant rubber and erased the tops off with a precisely drawn straight line, and the harsh scars of man’s many years of slate mining standing out stark and hard on this grey day. This greyness though, made the greens of the vegetation seem even brighter and fresher than they might normally do.

Honister Pass – 21 June 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Travelling upwards, the track winds its way up through acid grasslands and rocky outcrops towards the entrance of the mine. At this altitude the rocky outcrops were splashed with colour, announcing the arrival of a short summer period. Brightest and most obvious are the splashes of green produced by clumps of Parsley Fern that stuck out at regular intervals from the cracks in the rock, and looked like a distinctive lacy edging. Amongst the Parsley Fern there was the occasionally Alpine Lady’s Mantle plant, which supported clusters of pale green flowers sitting on long stems, above groups of deeply divided leaves.

Travelling higher towards the entrance of the mine, the rocky outcrops and the grey background becomes dominant, with the green splashes of grasses and ferns seeming to become brighter, almost fluorescing in the gloom. Then against this grey background, there was the occasional splash of colour, particularly bright were the yellow flowered clumps of Roseroot, with amazingly bright flowers sitting above distinctive grey green foliage. Closing on the mine entrance my eye was caught by the occasional spot of white, sitting right on the edge of a long drop down into the valley below and just out of reach behind a piece of rickety wooden fencing. A sight that is set to tempt and tease a Lost Naturalist, and which took some ingenuity to identify as clumps of Mossy Saxifrage, involving some leaning and lots of staring, not to mention desperately trying not to fall over the fence and off of the edge of the mountain. Its just a pity that there wasn’t the time or opportunity to take suitable pictures, somehow I don’t think that the guide would appreciate the visitors crawling through a fence on to the edge of a long drop to take the ideal picture of a Mossy Saxifrage plant!! I know the boss would not appreciate the paperwork of a truly Lost Naturalist!!

Surprising Sightings

Winter continues here! The snow continues to fall and spring still can’t seem to force its way in. Even so during the daytime the temperatures are rising above zero, and the snow continues to melt a pace, which at least gives me some hope, even if overnight the amount of snow is increased again by new falls. This new snow fascinates me, as it ranges from frozen raindrops that form round, solid, icy, ball bearings that sit like partially sucked gob stoppers on the frozen surfaces, to light, wet, fluffy flakes that float down like feathers from the clouds above and disappears into the snow already lying.

The continuation of wintry conditions has also encouraged some slightly more unusual sightings from the window this week.

Early Tuesday morning, I noticed a couple of strange dark shapes moving across the field opposite. On closer observation there were two Roe Deer having a mad five minutes, dashing hither and thither, kicking up their heels, as though spring had arrived and they were mad March Hares. It is not unusual to see Roe Deer crossing the road on the wooded slopes of Gala Hill, where they dash, quickly and silently, from one side of the road to the other. But it is different to see them dashing around the snow covered fields so close to the farm steading, and at a time in the morning when people are regularly around.

Roe Deer – 26 February – (Copyright Carol Jones)

Then this morning, while watching the birds congregate round the feeder, especially the comings and goings of a number of House Sparrows and Chaffinches on the path in front of the window, I was surprised to see amongst them a pair of Yellowhammers, busily chasing titbits of food. These are uncommon visitors to our garden, in all the years of watching the comings and goings of birds from our garden, they have only visited a handful of times. They are regularly seen and heard from the bushes along the road, where their song, “A little bit of bread and no cheese” can be heard ringing out across the fields, but in the garden, almost never. Shame though, they failed to remain long enough to get in a picture, especially as their speckles of yellow were so bright and fresh, just as if they’d been freshly splattered with new paint.

First Day of Spring!

Well its the first day of spring today and I’m dreaming of warmer days, blue skies and sunshine, with all the associated wildlife stirrings of spring!! Meanwhile back in the real world, its more like the depths of winter here with several inches of snow lying on the ground and the continued gentle flurry of snow blowing up the valley, in the Arctic breeze.

Snow in the Garden – 18 March 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Winter may still seem to be here and according to the news it is likely to be one of the coldest March’s on record, but still nature knows what is coming. The signs of spring are there for those that wish to look. From the first signs of movement on the Contorted Hazel, which has a couple of female flowers open, showing their bright red stigmas to the world. To the more blatant display of Snowdrops that are blooming in the shelter of the hedge, even if they are now hidden under a layer of snow.

 

Snowdrops – 28 February 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

To be honest the birds also know what should be happening, for they are beginning to display. The Robin that has been visiting the garden all winter, when he was chasing off all rivals, has begun to tolerate the arrival of a second bird. Now he regularly sits on top of the nearest post and sings his heart out to the world. Also both the Chaffinches and Blue Tits are becoming more like territorial birds and less like flock birds, as they are regularly playing tag round the bird table and hedge, showing off their prowess to anyone interested.

So though the weather has forgotten to move on, the wildlife knows what is due to occur – Spring!! Hopefully the weather will remember to move on soon, or so I can dream. At least while the weather is stuck in the past, I can think back to the record temperatures of last year’s spring and dream of that now faded, but much loved memory! Hope lives on!!

Snow Days

The Lost Naturalist would love to say that she was snowed in and having a snow day, unfortunately though we have lots of snow, and by this evening we have about six inches of the stuff, she is actually the “Crocked Naturalist” and is stuck close to home.

Anyway, the snow I was talking about in my previous blog, finally arrived, first in dribs and drabs, beginning over Friday night, not much at this stage, maybe a couple of inches, but enough to blur some of the outlines of the surrounding landscape features. Most striking was its highlighting effects on the branches of the Japanese Larches, where the rich orange red of the twigs, currently devoid of needles, was strikingly lined with a bright white band of snow.

 

Larches – 19 January 2013 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

The snow properly arrived over Sunday night and into today, so that when dawn arrived the surroundings were carpeted with a soft white blanket of snow. During the course of the day, this blanket was added to almost continuously, as snow continued to fall, some of the time as large, soft, almost tissue paper like flakes, and sometimes as small, hard, ice crystals, but fall it did. As the day progressed the snow continued to coat the surrounding vegetation, beginning as a thin dusting, like icing sugar on top of a cake, and gradually thickening to form a proper frosted decoration, which even in the dull light levels of a snow storm, shone with an inner glow of cold beauty.

 

Frosted Trees – 21 January 2013 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

Ice Needles

While waiting for the snow that is forecast for today to make up its mind as to whether its coming or not, I thought back to Wednesday morning, to a totally white world, where the thin layer of snow remaining from earlier in the week was merged with a thick blanket of mist that blanked out the surroundings. It was as though the whole world had been covered with a white sheet, and all the details blurred out. The loss of details was worth it, for as the mist rose over the course of the morning it produced some amazing effects, in the form of a hoar frost that coated the world in shining crystals.

Hoar Frost – 16 January 2013 (Copyright Ross Lockley)

Over the course of the morning the vegetation went from being wet and soggy to being covered in the most amazing architectural ice sculptures. From a distance the vegetation looked as though it had been scattered with icing sugar, which as the sky cleared sightly almost sparkled with the better light. Close up the vegetation was covered with thousands of ice crystals each grown perfectly into the shape of a needle. It was quite amazing, over the course of several hours to watch the crystals grow from nothing, through tiny needles to structures a centimetre or two in length. Large enough to do justice to being the white needles of a conifer, but so fragile and ephemeral; that when the temperature rose just a degree they would be gone.

Swan Lake

According to some theories the world was supposed to end on Friday, following some form of water horror. Well it obviously hasn’t ended for I’m still here, but as for the water, there is lots of that.

Its been raining here for what seems like days, in fact the outstanding memory of this year has been rain and lots of it! But that’s another story. Until today it seems to have been raining almost consistently since Wednesday. The ground that was already totally saturated, has now begun sprouting new springs, appearing along the hillside in places where they haven’t been before. Most of these springs are not seeps, but are pouring like springs with business elsewhere. We even gained our own water feature, with a raging torrent pouring down the track outside the house, to add its contents to the duck pond opposite.

Duck pond is probably now the wrong term to describe our temporary water body. In fact its as large as I have ever seen it and is now looking more like having the proportions of a lake rather than a pond, as it stretches for at least a hundred metres in length. As for the ducks, seen those on it in the past, I’ve also seen children on it when its frozen, but today is the first time I’ve seen it with a pair of swans on it. They were obviously quite happy there, for when I returned some time later they were happily dozing.

Swan Lake – 23 December 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Heading north along the valley, the fields along the bottom have also flooded, something which occurs most winters but not as much as this. Usually the water forms just a series of temporary small water bodies down the valley, that rise and fall rapidly as the surroundings drain. Following our most recent rain event, they have coalesced into two large lakes, one of which was deep enough to cover the fence that separates two of the fields, while the other is only a few inches from the top of a wall. Both of these were fed by raging torrents that had given up with the field drains and were pouring down the surrounding hillsides, flooding across the lane and into the bottom fields.

Lakes – 22 December 2012 (Copyright Carol Jones)