Tag: flora
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Down among the Thistles
The hedgerows are heavy with the spoils of summer. Blackberries shine darkly in the shade, crab apples blush among the leaves, and Rowan berries hang in bright clusters. Rosebay Willowherb releases its silky seeds to the wind, while the thistles too surrender their down, sending it drifting like smoke across the fields. Thistles are cursed…
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“Flobbadob-adob … Weeeeed!”
Sunflowers always remind me of Little Weed from The Flowerpot Men, a television nostalgia from my childhood. She — if that is the right word, given her ambiguous gender and equally uncertain botanical identity — played the role of quiet confidant to Bill and Ben, the babbling flowerpot duo. Like other daisies, sunflowers are composite…
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Bombweed, a Hall Built of Basalt and German POWs
The vivid pinks of Rosebay Willowherb blaze across summer landscapes, yet most pass them by. Known as Fireweed, it is often the first plant to reclaim burnt ground. That was not always the case. The Georgians treated it as a rarity, grown in gardens rather than spotted in the wild. Even in 1853, the Reverend…
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Before the Ling: Bell Heather in Bloom
The moors will soon flush lilac with the bloom of Ling, but for now it is the Bell heather that holds court. Its deeper purple has lit the hills for weeks. This sweep across Ingleby Moor is the broadest I have seen. Bell heather usually prefers modest clumps, favouring dry ridges, crag tops, and path…
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Pink on the Rocks
Hugging the coast of North Uist, it feels as though wildlife is everywhere. There is more of it than we saw on Lewis and Harris—though perhaps that is only how it seems. Among the birds we could name: Redshanks, Ringed Plovers, Northern Shovellers, Lapwings, Sanderlings, and the ever-familiar Eider, or Cuddy Duck. Then of course…
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Of Brass Monkeys, May Blossoms and Other Perils
Growing up in Nottingham in the early 1960s, I shall never forget me mam barking “naer cast a clout till May is out” whenever I dared venture into the Spring air without full Arctic gear—duffle coat, string vest, probably a balacalva too. She assumed, and I dutifully followed, “May”meant the month, which made sense given…
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Teeth of the Lion: Nature’s Yellow Peril
Raisdale is not known for its dandelions—Teeth of the Lion. But this is a splendid crop. Beloved by children for their time-telling attribute and wish-granting parachute seeds, as if horology and magic come naturally to plants. Its garish yellow flowers chase the sun like sycophants and offer pollinators an early-season breakfast. Every part of it…
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Yorkshire’s Pride: The Enduring Allure of Roseberry Topping
It has been some time since I inflicted a post about Roseberry Topping upon the world, the conical-shaped hill that looms over this northeastern corner of what is the historical county of Yorkshire, albeit a recycling of previous posts. Local pride being what it is, they have long called it “t’ highest hill i’ all…
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Mother Shimble’s Snick-needles
The famous Bluebells of Newton and Cliff Rigg Woods are having a lie-in. Give them a week, perhaps, before they are at their best. Meanwhile, the true prima donna of the woodland floor is the Greater Stitchwort, cluttering the place with its endless sprinkling of white, star-shaped flowers that seem to think themselves terribly precious.…
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The Cuckoo’s Shoe
Yesterday I posted about the Cuckoo. Today, naturally, it is the Cuckoo’s Shoe — not, alas, footwear for birds, but yet another whimsical provincial name, this time for the Dog Violet. A harmless enough little flower, though my encounter this morning has sent me spiralling into yet more botanical trivia. The woodland floor is having…