Barleycorn Meditation In June

Papaver Rhoeas, Cornfield Poppy

When I was born, God blessed me with the gift of wonder, which nurtured my passion for life in general, and the world of Nature in particular. I seem to observe the flora and fauna around me as if wearing the rose-tinted spectacles of a young child exploring everything in the environment for the first time. That's why, for me, the appearance of the first cornfield poppy in our garden in June causes my heart to skip a beat.

Swallows At Barleycorn

Along with this gift came the blessing of optimism, which helps me to look at the broader picture in life, and, in times of adversity, helps to sustain me. I believe that we are the stewards of the earth and that we are meant to live in harmony with Nature in all its glory. When I contemplate the difficulties facing a pair of swallows returning all the way from Africa in order to rebuild their nest in the same place in our barn, year upon year...well, that blows my mind!

Mixed Aquilegia, Columbine

How do they do it? Each Spring I await their arrival with bated breath, and my spirits soar when I hear their excited twittering overhead. Our barn doors have a space at the top where they swoop in and out to their nest, like trapeze artists, with perfect ease, never missing the mark. Taz and Cookie, the barn cats, are well-used to sharing their quarters over the Summer months with two messy broods of chicks.

Mecanopsis Cambria, Welsh Poppies

Even though the path behind our barn is 70 foot long, it is a mere metre in width. When we came here, almost eighteen years ago, it seemed appropriate to sow wild flowers along the length of it. Some years biennial foxgloves grow in profusion, their long tapering spires offering tunnels of delight to foraging bees. This year, it's the turn of the Welsh poppies to hum with droning bumblies.

Cepaea Hortensis, Banded Snail

And what about the place of the humble snail in my garden? Loving all God's creatures as I do, I could not possibly imagine that my duty should be one of extermination for the entire population, for how else would the beautiful song thrush, which serenades me each morning, thrive? Or, for that matter, the colony of frogs which breed in the two ponds? And what would our resident hedgehogs feed on?

Christophii Alliums, Ornamental Onions

Wildlife will only thrive in a nurturing environment and form part of the magical web of life in our gardens with our help. That does not mean to say I skip for joy when I discover a row of seeds has disappeared overnight. Instead, I grow some of my salad crops in pots and in long containers, as well as in the earth. That way, there's always some to spare. I find eggshells and coffee grinds helpful deterrants, as well as a border of Scotch marigolds or alliums.

Painted Lady Butterfly On Polygonum Superbum, Bistort

Another exciting visitor to arrive in our garden from Africa each year is the Painted Lady butterfly. This year there seems to be a mass migration, here in the UK. This one is feeding on the bistort, Polygonum Superbum, which I grow as an early nectar border plant beside the pond at the front of the house. Some people find the bistort a noxious weed, and, on first appearances, it does not seem to have the wow factor, but my feelings positively warm to it when I observe so many butterflies, bees and insects foraging on its flowers.

Papaver Orientalis, Double-Petalled Oriental Poppy

The colour palette in the garden consists mainly of shades of pink, blue, mauve, lavender, violet and purple, with some yellow and white, here and there. But, all that subtlety changes dramatically in the month of June, when the Hallelujah Chorus of the garden - the Oriental poppies - punctuate the otherwise muted tones. I am not alone in feeling attracted by the enormous vibrant redheads, with their striking inky-black anthers, for the bees pay them frequent visits too.

Lychnis-Flos-Cuculi, Ragged Robin

The wild lychnis, otherwise known as Ragged Robin, has a special place in my heart as it transports me back in time to childhood walks with my family, when we were allowed to gather and press a collection of wildflowers in a scrapbook in order to identify them. When my own children were growing up we took pocket guides with us for identification. Back home, we would draw sketches of the plants and the wildlife we had seen. I grow my Ragged Robins at the edge of the pond as they prefer their feet in damp places.

Papaver Orientalis, Dusky Dawn, Oriental Pink Poppy

The flamboyant Oriental poppies need not clash with the quieter tones in the garden as they come in gentle shades of pink, such as the one above, and Patty's Plum is a lovely shade of blackcurrant-purple. I also make room for a lovely classic white one called Perry's White.

Bombus, Bumble Bee On Lupin

My favourite sounds in the garden are the birdsong and the humming of the bees. For me, nothing exudes that magical quality of June in the garden more than bees' humming. Nothing makes me happier than to potter away the afternoon, thinking of nothing in particular, with the birds and bees for company.

Papaver Orientalis, Double-Petalled Oriental Poppy

Raindrops on poppies is also a common sight in the Barleycorn garden, for without the much-needed rain, my garden would not look as vibrant and lush as it does, and, never more so, than in the month of June. Even in their 'going over' period, I find beauty in the crumpled, frilly, translucent petals, and the discarded black anthers lying on the ground.

Rosa Zepherine Drouhin, Bourbon Rose

As far as I'm concerned the garden has to be a complete sensory experience, with smell coming to the fore in the Summer months. With that idea in mind, I grow a climbing Bourbon rose, called Rosa Zepherine Drouhin, outside one of the bedroom windows, so that its heady perfume fills the air on warm June days in particular. This year we have been blessed with a profusion of blooms. For me, this is a huge bonus as it is so difficult to grow roses in these parts as we are 225 metres above sea-level, with frequent winds blowing across the landscape.

Papaver Orientalis, Red Oriental Poppy

'Red and green should never be seen', goes the old adage. But, I love the combination. Green goes with everything as it is a perfect foil. With flowers as big as dinner plates, translucent petals for light to dance upon, ephemeral poppies add a touch of sophistication and glamour to the garden in Summer. I love the finely-cut, fern-like, hairy green foliage and the silky-textured, crepe paper petals of the ballgown flowers. You could be forgiven for thinking that the stunning blooms they produce would be difficult to grow, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Zygoptera, Red Damselfly

Red, blue and green damselflies flit around the ponds in June, adding a magical touch to the garden. With their two pairs of translucent, gossamer wings folded along their abdomen, they measure about 30mm in length. The adults feed on small insects and their larvae live on aquatic insects before emerging, after one year, as adults. I regard them as the fairies of the garden and find them very attractive to watch on sunny afternoons. Is anything more redolent of Summer?

Pots Of Salad Crops

It's amazing how many pots of plants can be grown from one bag of potting compost and a few packets of seeds. I also grow a few raspberry canes in pots, though I grow my strawberries in beds. Is there anything more exciting than eating one's home-grown produce, whether it be for a few weeks or a few months of the Summer?

Papaver Orientalis Turkenlouis, Oriental Poppy Curlylocks

Turkenlouis has to be the loudest Oriental poppy I grow. I love its serrated edges, the double-frilled petals and how they always hold their heads open to reveal the enormous seedbox and the black anthers. I grow it beside a yellow hemerocalis for contrast.

Hosta Sieboldiana

Hosta Sieboldiana has large, deeply-ridged, heart-shaped leaves of glaucus blue, and, when it rains, it holds enormous droplets of water. I find that most attractive. In all eighteen years here, the slugs and snails have never attacked my hostas...and I have many varieties of them. It is a dramatic plant in any border.

Papaver Orientalis, Oriental Poppies By The Front Pond

Over the years, I have filled my cottage garden with so many plants, there is little room for weeds to grow. A few years ago, in Springtime, while the plants were still small, I covered the areas between the flowers with bark, as a weed suppressant. It also helps as a mulch in dry weather.

Taz, The Barn Cat, In The Back Garden

Along the back wall bordering the adjacent farmer's field, I grow a nectar border for insects and butterflies, which, in turn, feed the birds. Taz, one of the barn cats, likes to lie in wait for voles and shrews. Over the years, I have been chasing my tail trying to combat the fierce winds blowing down my taller flowers, such as delphiniums and aconites, that I decided upon a plan of action for the whole garden.

Geranium Psilostemon

For two days in the month of June, I go around the whole garden with canes of varying sizes and thin green wire and insert them as a defence barrier. It looks a bit like invisible mending, for only the sharpest eyes could detect where I have been. It has been most successful over the past few years, as everything is held upright till the end of the season and the paths are kept clear. Best of all, on wet days, it is possible to walk around the entire garden without wet plants brushing against one's legs. This tall psilostemon geranium would be flattened by our strong winds in a day if it were not held upright. I love its magenta-coloured flowers as well as its attractive foliage.

Housemartins At Barleycorn

This year our housemartins did not arrive till the first day of June. But, we are lucky to have them. Normally we have three pairs building in the three apexes of the house, sometimes with triple nests in each...this year, only one pair. They have friends who join them in the evenings when they wheel overhead, and, to our delight, swoop and dive across the ponds catching insects on the wing, along with their other friends, the swallows.

Chaerophyllum Hirsutum Roseum, Cow Parsley

Cow parsley is usually a plant of the wayside, but I like its habit and grow some in my nectar borders. I also have the garden cultivar - chaerophyllum hirsutum roseum - which has pale pink blossom. It needs to be in a mixed bed as it can easily take over if left in too big a space, but it pays its weight in gold as far as the bees and insects are concerned.

Ranunculus, Meadow Buttercup

Do you like butter? Again, because of happy childhood days spent making daisy and buttercup chains, I grow ranunculus beside my wild cornfield poppies. A garden, for me, has to contain dreams and evoke memories, making room for the wildflowers as well as the cultivars in order to create a sense of soul and romance. It must tell its own story.

Nectar Borders In The Back Garden

This photograph shows a section of the garden made up of nectar borders. But, without them, I would not have so many varieties of visiting bees, insects and birds, which, in turn, bring visiting mammals. I have often been asked which flowers are my favourites. If I must choose it is a toss-up between wild poppies and foxgloves. But, each flower in season is a favourite...so many hues, so much individuality, such a variety of perfumes, each with their own story.

Borage Officinalis, Borage

Another of my favourites is the borage. The wonderful blue, (though sometimes white or pink) five-petalled, star-shaped flowers hanging in profusion, the tall graceful way it grows, the hairy leaves...all are attractive to me, and so nectar-rich for the bees that beekeepers often grow this plant.

Cirsium Rivulare Atropurpureum, Ornamental Thistle

My cirsium grows between six and seven foot tall. It is a very elegant plant, very stately with amazingly large leaves, considering the thistle heads are relatively tiny. Again, the bees adore it, as you will see in the little video I have taken.

Papaver Orientalis, Oriental Poppies At The Stane Dyke Wall

Although we have fierce winds blowing across our open landscape, I love to stand at the fence and watch the wildlife across the field. Sometimes there are buzzards mewing overhead, or larks making my heart soar with their amazing songs. Perhaps that's why I love Vaughan Williams' The Lark Ascending so much. Barley is the main crop grown in the adjacent field...and I love to hear the wind through the barley and watch it making waves while the barley is still young enough to bend.

Lupins, Geraniums, Aquilegia

The lupins in this photo have the most exquisite perfume. I wish I could bottle its scent and open it on cold Winter days to remind me of summery June. Over the years I have grown so many varieties of aquilegias....and they seed all over the place, which is a bonus to me. They are so enduring and add their own magic to our cottage garden. I love their 'Granny's bonnets', as we call them hereabouts, and their form and foliage, which can vary between acid green and purple-green.

Yellow Flag Irises In Back Pond

Yellow flag irises, also known as Jacob's sword, are stately plants of wild ponds...and of our ponds too. Again, so reminiscent of my childhood days at my Granny's cottage, I couldn't bear to be without them, for, though they used to be a common sight in the wild, with so many of the farmers' ponds being drained for intensive farming methods, they are growing scarcer each year. One school of thought says they are the origin of the fleur-de-lis in heraldry.

Mixed Nectar Borders In Front Garden

These borders are in the front garden. One whole bed contains varieties of geraniums, which flower for months on end, and if cut back, return with a final flush in September. I find the geranium a 'must' as they are easy to look after being disease-free, and bloom for long periods of the Summer.

Rosa Glauca, Rose

Lastly, I have chosen to show you my rosa glauca, the foliage of which is a wonderful shade of grey-purple with purplish-red stems. I am always told they do not do well in exposed windy sites, but, for some reason, they do well for me. Apart from the attractive cerise-pink flowers, in Autumn they have unusual wine-red fruits which feed the birds. The photo is well worth enlarging to see all the amazing tones in the foliage....and to spy the sweet little insect on the flower. The birds eat the fruit and leave me many seedlings scattered around the garden. I pot them up and grow some for myself, some to sell at garden fayres and some to share with friends and fellow gardeners.

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The little film below was taken over a few days in June, and is made up of many little videos. If you turn up the volume you will hear the wonderful birdsong and the buzzing of the bees, the winds blowing and cars passing by, as people go about their daily business. It lasts for nine and a half minutes, so, if it sticks a bit, please be patient. The music, which plays through twice, is Thais' Meditation by Massenet. Enjoy!

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If you click to enlarge each photo, you will find when the photo was taken, and the botanical name as well as the common name of each plant.

Fancy A Spot Of Pond-Dipping?

In the months of April and May, the Barleycorn ponds are awash with golden cups of sunshine of the caltha palustris plant, more commonly known as marsh marigolds. In churches in medieval times, they were given in tribute to the Virgin Mary at Easter and were called Mary Gold. I grow them because they remind me of happy childhood days when my brother and I would take our nets and go pond-dipping and I would gather a little bunch of sunshine to take home to my Mum.

Although the lily flowers are not yet in bloom, I find the beautiful shapes and hues of the leaves so attractive. Covering roughly a third of each pond, they help to keep out the light which enables algae to grow. They also provide hiding places for the many creatures which live in the ponds.

Unlike their garden cousins which will devour fresh young shoots, the lymnaea stagnalis or great pond snails mostly tend to live on decaying plants, algae and debris in the pond, which makes them very useful. The two in this photo are foraging on the roots of a ranunculus plant which has come adrift from its mooring in the soil. They are greyish-brown in colour and around 60mm in length.

I find them fascinating to watch as they come part-way out of their shells to feed and often float upside down on the surface of the water as they go about their business acting as pond dustmen clearing up the rubbish and keeping everything clean and healthy. Because they absorb oxygen through their skin, they can live underwater for several months. I feel glad when I find a long string of their eggs under the leaves of aquatic plants because it is proof that they are thriving. In Winter they hibernate in the mud at the bottom of the ponds.

This tiny creature is a ramshorn snail and belongs to the family Planorbidae. There are many of these little snails in the ponds. Their shells are coiled into flat spiral discs. They are also vegetarian and graze on algae covering the plants, as this photo shows. They tend to grow to 18mm. What amazes me is the fact that all the creatures found their own way into the ponds.

If you are interested in looking at the creatures in more detail, click on each photo to get up close and personal. This photo shows the larva of the great diving beetle. They are voracious carnivores, feeding mainly on tadpoles and other insects - including their own brothers and sisters - which they grab with their pincer jaws. They look like scorpions as they keep their tails upright while swimming. They push their tails up out of the water to take in oxygen through an air hole in their tails.

This photo shows a pair of dytiscus marginalis, great diving beetles, at the breeding time in April. As it was a cloudy day, the water looks dark and murky. They are the adults of the larva in the previous photo. They actually pupate on land and then return to the water, though I have often had a fright when I have seen them flying as they look a bit like cockroaches.

The water boatman is hilarious to watch as it swims along upside down carrying a bubble of air on its abdomen. It has two pairs of legs- a short front pair, and a strong hind pair - which it paddles like oars. They grow to around 20mm in length. I would need an underwater camera to show you his large red eyes. They live on tadpoles and insects, and can eat fish too, though we have none in our ponds. The adults can fly and move between ponds.

Here we have a pair of Gerris lacustris, pond skaters. They are mating while resting on a lily pad. Normally, they are seen skating across the surface of the ponds. They are around 20mm long and move very quickly. If their bodies and legs did not have velvety hairs, they would sink through the water. Their diet consists of insects. I often see them jumping to avoid being eaten by predators.

At this time of year there are often wasps taking in water from the surface of the ponds. They are fetching water to cool and fan their nests. Birds, of course, use the ponds for drinking and bathing and often come in little groups. In fact, there is year-round activity of one kind or another at our watering-holes from visiting wildlife.

Over the years we have seen a huge increase in newt population in our ponds. The male in the photo is curled inside a red lily leaf. You might want to enlarge the picture to see him more clearly.

Spring is the best time to see them in the water as they live most of their life on land. Triturus vulgaris is the scientific name for the smooth or common newt. When they come to the surface to breathe, there is a little popping sound as they gulp air.

Depending on the sunshine and shade, the newts can appear to be black in colour. However they are actually pale brown or olive green. Both the males and females have orange bellies covered in black spots, though the females' are paler orange.

If you can get close enough to see, the males have fringed toes, which helps to distinguish them from the females. The males also have long wavy, rather than crested, backs and tails. They have tiny teeth to catch tadpoles and insects.

They breed in the ponds in Spring and are able to feast on frog tadpoles. They can lay around 400 eggs on the leaves of the waterplants. It takes around 10 weeks for their young to emerge as juveniles.

Adult newts can shed their skin once a week. Athough I have never seen any lying around, I have frequently seen casings of dragonflies. In late July they return to the land and become mainly nocturnal.

The frogs spawned one week earlier this year than in the previous three years. In spite of that, we had lots of frost and the ponds were partially frozen many days. As a result, the tadpoles hatched at the usual time.

When the sun's rays managed to penetrate the jelly, we noticed slight movement from some of the tadpoles, whereas the tadpoles in the frozen parts of the pond seemed in suspended animation.

It was interesting to watch different batches hatch and mature at different times. At first the jelly looked clear. As time went on it became green. I was fascinated seeing tails twitching, watching gills appear and finally legs.

At one point we had a writhing mass of taddies with gills, eyes and long tails, while, at the same time, there were also later batches still inside the spawn. Around this time I watched and waited for the newts to appear.

Sure enough I was not disappointed. Although the water was a dark green murky colour at this stage, you can still pick out the long, dark shape of the newt across the top of the photo. At this stage the tadpoles were coming up for air and leaving lots of bubbles on the surface of the pond.

The newt down the middle of this photo is extremely well camouflaged. There was still a loose jelly around the tadpoles at this stage and the newts would come swishing up from underneath the mass and grab some lunch.

Over the years I have been scattering forget-me-not seeds under the weeping birch tree outside our back door. Though there are so many pictures I could have shown you of how our garden looks at the moment - as opposed to what is happening in our ponds - choosing these little flowers over grander specimens was easy, for they have a simple beauty of their own and very much typify the Spring in our garden at Barleycorn.

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The footage in the little video below was taken from the 3rd to the 12th April. There are six little videos joined together to show you the progress of the tadpoles. There is a little footage of newts amongst them towards the end of the video. Now that the tadpoles are swimming freely across the pond, it is difficult to catch sight of them.

Labels

Caltha Palustris, Marsh marigolds

Pond lilies

Lymnaea Stagnalis, Great Pond Snails

Planorbidae, Ramshorn Snail

Dytiscus Marginalis, Great Diving Beetle

Larva of Great Diving Beetle

Notonecta Glauca, Water Boatman

Gerris Lacustris, Pond skater

Vespula Vulgaris, Common Wasp

Triturus Vulgaris, Common Newt

Frogspawn

Tadpoles

Myosotis, Forget-me-nots

The Rhythm Of life Is A Wonderful Beat

O Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the works Thy hand hath made,

I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,

Thy power throughout the universe displayed:

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

When through the woods and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;

When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,

And hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze:

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

And when I think that God His Son not sparing,

Sent Him to die - I scarce can take it in,

That on the cross my burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died to take away my sin:

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation

And take me home - what joy shall fill my heart!

Then shall I bow in humble adoration

And there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Russian hymn, translated by S. Hine

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Labels: Mixed Tulips

Mixed Narcissi

Siskins and Goldfinches

Mixed Primula

Hellebores and Bumble Bee

Anemone Blanda

Foliage of Weeping Birch,

Cashmiriana Rowan,

Populus Candicans,

Young Ivy,

and Horse-Chestnut

Hoverfly on Marsh Marigold

Floating Lily Leaves

Great Diving Beetle and Great Pond Snail

Cranefly

Common Newt and Great Pond Snail

Common Newt

Great Pond Snail

Tadpoles

Jackdaws

Taz

Spring lambs

Barleycorn Weather-Vane

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If you click on each photo, it will enlarge to show you the botanical name and the common name of each species.

What Happens When You Kiss A Frog?

Kiss me, Froggie, Froggie, kiss me,

Thrill me, Froggie, Froggie, thrill me.
Don't care even if I blow my top,
But, Froggie, Froggie, don't stop!

I'd like to play a little game with you,

A little game especially made for two.

If you come close then I will show you how,

Closer, closer, now.

Kiss me, Froggie, Froggie, kiss me,

Thrill me, Froggie, Froggie, thrill me.

Don't care even if I blow my top,

But, Froggie, Froggie, don't stop!

We've never played this little game before,

If you relax then you'll enjoy it more.

Just settle down and let me teach you how,

Closer, closer, now.

Kiss me, Froggie, Froggie, kiss me,

Thrill me, Froggie, Froggie, thrill me.

Don't care even if I blow my top,

But, Froggie, Froggie, don't stop!

But, Froggie, Froggie, don't stop!

You kiss so well my lips begin to burn,

And I can tell I've got a lot to learn.

So hold me close and darling show me how,

Closer, closer, now.

Kiss me, Froggie, Froggie, kiss me,

Thrill me, Froggie, Froggie, thrill me.

Don't care even if I blow my top,

But, honey, honey, don't stop!

Don't care even if I blow my top.

But, Froggie, Froggie, don't stop,

Never stop!

The first official day of Spring for this year is 20th March. However, the warmer temperatures of the past few days have heated the shallows of our ponds, thus enabling the frogs to spawn one week earlier than in the previous two years. Enjoy the video of their antics...and turn up the volume to hear, amidst the cacophony of barking dogs, passing traffic and serenading birdsong, the amazing motorbike drone of the frog chorus at Barleycorn.

Coming In From The Cold

An unexpected fall of snow recently caused chaos in the London area, closing many schools and offices and bringing all the traffic in the centre of the city to a standstill. However, the heavy snowfall brought pleasure to hundreds of children who enjoyed several days of extra holidays during which they built snowmen, played on sledges with their friends and lay on their backs making snow angels. Four hundred miles further north, we Scots wondered what all the fuss was about as we cope with snowstorms several times every Winter. Last night was no exception, for, as I drew the curtains before bedtime, a blizzard of snow began swirling outside. As if by magic in a matter of moments, everything in the garden was transformed as a carpet of snowflakes fluttered down. I put out the light wondering if we'd be snowed in today.

This morning, however, a beautiful blue sky greeted me and a song thrush was serenading from the top of my Swedish birch tree. Pulling on a warm sweater and trousers, I grabbed my camera, determined not to miss an opportunity. As I took a photo of the snow on the barn roof, my mind went back to a cold night in January, when an unexpected visitor paid Taz and Cookie a visit.

It was suppertime for the cats, but, instead of running to us for cuddles, Taz and Cookie were out of their cosy nests mewing, and looking more than a little disconcerted. Suddenly, without a sound, a large expanse of wings flew over our heads and crossed from one end of the barn to the other. Looking up, my hubbie and I saw a beautiful Tawny owl. Walking over to the cats, we stroked them to stop them mewing and calm them down. Clearly, they had never seen an owl in the barn before.

Although we have seen a few Tawny owls and Barn owls, and even a Little owl, during the eighteen years we have lived here, they are not seen on a regular basis. We do hear Barn owls screeching during the night. But, mostly we find their pellets scattered around the garden rather than regular sightings of them. Apart from the Little owl, which sometimes flies during the day, they are nocturnal creatures and come out to feed when most of us are indoors for the night. Tawnies are the owls which have the 'twit twoo' calls, the owls in our Nursery Stories - pretty owls with large, beautiful, dark eyes on their faces.

Once the cats had calmed down, I ran indoors for my camera. I hoped the Tawny would stay long enough for me to catch a few pictures without disturbing it too much. I need not have worried. As it turned out, it was reluctant to leave the shelter of the barn and we had to leave the doors open all night to allow it to fly free before morning. It never called out once. Apparently the 'twit twoo' is a duet between the male and female. They bond for life and both share in feeding the brood with the male going solo for the first 21 days. Our visitor simply flew forwards and backwards, across the barn. I knew there would be plenty of mice and shrews to feed on as Taz catches mice and the occasional shrew several times a week.

As I passed the log-pile, I wondered how many insects were snug and dry underneath, for, even the snow can act like a carpet and keep bulbs warm too. Our bulbs are showing above the earth and peeping from the pots and troughs. After the blizzard I thought there would have been a heavier covering of snow, but, the storm had obviously subsided quickly.

Winter sunshine makes for great contrasts between the pristine white of the snow-laden branches against the cerulean blue of the sky. So strong was the sun, that I had to be careful to avoid the constant drip, drip, drip of the melting snow which accompanied me on my walk around the garden under the trees.

At this time of year in spite of the snow, I always feel optimistic, for, it is not the onset of dark December chilling my bones and making me dread a long Winter ahead, but, that of March, instead, with the promise of the coming Spring. The snow on the Dawn rose merely looked pretty and fresh and transient. It would be gone all too soon, so, savour it and enjoy its fleeting visit, I reminded myself.

True to form, Taz accompanied me, even walking across the frozen pond to sniff under stones. His antics reminded me of our third surprise visitor when we had had the snowfall in January. It had been a relatively cold snap with temperatures well below zero, and little sunshine to warm the days. I had been standing looking out of the window, not thinking of anything in particular, when, suddenly, there he was...a beautiful fox.

Not having noticed me at the window, he was heading towards me, quite at peace with the world. I stared, transfixed, at his white chest, his beautiful reddish-auburn coat and his long, bushy brush cocked at an angle. Suddenly, he looked up and caught sight of me looking at him. The moment our eyes met, he turned instinctively, while I grabbed my ever-ready camera...and just managed to catch on shot of him as he trotted back the way he had come. In a flash, he was over the stone-dyke wall quicker than you could say, 'The quick, brown fox jumps over the lazy dog'.

Snowdrops, true to their name, have come through the snow once again to greet the Spring. We have many posies of them, creating little drifts here and there under the birch trees and shrubs in the little area in the garden I refer to as my woodland.

The blue hepaticas are in bloom too, with their dainty little heads. they are winners in my book, though I must say their leaves suffer in the bitter winds and always looked bruised.

In an area which borders the adjacent field at the back of the house, we have a high bank which I have been filling with snowdrops for several years now. They do well here and precede the daffodils which die back in time for the carpet of poppies, cornflower and marigolds to come through. We have a never-ending battle with couch grass in this area, so the wildflowers seem to naturalise everything and compete well with the pernicious grass.

Today, the snow was heavy on the snowdrop heads. But, they will be standing to attention tomorrow again. I always feel something of the miracle of nature in seeing snowdrops surviving the blasts of Winter. In my garden they come out before the daffodils, so they tend to be my favourite Spring bulbs.

Having said that, the yellow aconites are a joy to behold each year. I particularly like to see their little, golden cups of sunshine facing upwards and outwards towards the light and the warmth of the sun's rays.

Hellebores are exciting to have in any garden. I have two different varieties, ones with pale cream petals and green centres and a second variety with deep wine petals. Regardless of snow, they also come up trumps.

We have several colours of crocuses growing under shrubs and trees. The orangey-yellows are the first to appear followed by the purple and blue-striped. Today a cock blackbird was competing with his yellow bill.

Round the front of the house, well away from the piping blackbird, giving out his alarm call to warn the other birds, Taz had jumped onto a favourite window-sill to settle down for a spot of sunbathing.

At the back of the house, in the adjacent field, a cacophony was coming from a murder of crows, no doubt squabbling over grain and insects, and whose turn it was in the pecking order.

The artesian well has filled up over the Winter months, despite the efforts of the farmer to drain it over the years, creating interest for the birds and insects bold enough to be up and about.

I looked across the fields and felt glad to be alive, to be savouring the joys of the coming Spring, relishing the sight of the bulbs which have survived the ravages of Winter, and laughing at the antics of the newborn lambs gambolling in the sunshine and bleating to me from their world across the snow.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens

A Surprise Visitor to Barleycorn

On the weekend of the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, my hubbie replenished the feeders with peanuts and wild-bird seed, hung several fat-balls from the birch trees and prepared the bird-table with a mountain of scraps, in order to attract as many of our feathered friends as possible.
There’s always great excitement when, on red-letter days, a buzzard, or a sparrowhawk, or a great-spotted woodpecker make an appearance in the garden…and, equally, disappointing when they are absent on the official Garden Birdwatch.
Imagine our great surprise then, when, during the hour in which we were ‘doing the count’, a huge pheasant flew over the stone-dyke wall into the garden. Suddenly, our focus shifted onto this large, hen-size bird.
There is open countryside adjacent to the back garden at Barleycorn and mixed woodland bordering the field, and in this area pheasants are common on game farms where they are reared for commercial shooting…hence two possible reasons for his appearance. Not that we haven’t seen one in the garden before, for we sometimes find one korkk-korkking on the wall when one of the cats is nearby.

Phasianus Colchicus, better known as the common pheasant, is not native to Britain.
Some sources claim pheasants were first introduced 2000 years ago when the Romans invaded Britain. Others claim they were brought here with the Normans in the 11th Century. One fact appears to be indisputable. They originated in western Asia.

This male probably came into the garden because it was attracted by the overspill of seeds from the feeders and the fat-balls, which hang from the birches bordering the adjacent field. Pheasants and other game-birds often keep to the margins of the field where the stone-dyke wall, which borders the entire field, affords them shelter and camouflage.

As you can see he is very colourful, with a dark-green face and red wattles, and a body and tail of rich chestnut, with golden-brown and black patterns. We were transfixed, for he looked as if he was wearing Joseph's technicolour-dreamcoat on this otherwise dull day in January with the garden looking somewhat drab in tone, while awaiting its Spring coat.

He wandered around with his long tail cocked up at an angle. At first, the smaller birds flew upwards but soon settled down again when they realised he was only interested in feeding on the seeds, and not on them.

After he’d had enough seeds he strutted across to the rockery and pecked at a few shoots on the lithospermum, pictured in one of the photographs below. It is a heather-like plant, which comes in beautiful Gentian-blue shades and has a lovely trailing habit, covering slopes in the scree bed.

On our bird count sheet, we had to note down the largest number - of each species - we saw together at any one time during the hour. Here are the totals.

Blackbird - 3; Blue tit – 8; Carrion crow – 1; Chaffinch – 17; Coal tit – 3; Collared dove – 4; Dunnock – 1; Feral pigeon – 20; Great tit – 1; Greenfinch – 1; House sparrow – 10; Jackdaw – 5; Robin – 1; Starling 14; and Pheasant - 1

It was interesting to see how easily a twiggy rhododendron shrub camouflaged his brightly-coloured plumage when he ran behind it. He felt safe enough to wander around, as I was filming, and taking photographs, indoors.

After taking a few photos, I set my camera to video mode, the results of which you can see below. There is no sound, for if I had opened the window, he, along with the rest of the birds, would have flown off.
Since then, we have seen him most days strutting about the garden picking up seeds. Taz has given him a wide berth, which is fortunate for both. There's no mistaking his presence when he starts his korkk-korkking to warn Taz, in no uncertain terms, to keep away. He is the first of three surprise visitors we have had during the past week. I shall reveal the identities of the others in the next post.

Garden Birds At Barleycorn In Winter

In spite of the clocks being changed last October, so that it would appear to be brighter in the mornings, today was the darkest one so far this winter. It looked so inky black when I looked out of the bedroom window, I thought there had been a powercut.
After Cookie and Taz, the barn cats, had been well fed, and had been for their stroll around the garden, and were well ensconced in their cosy nests in the barn, my hubbie went out and filled the bird feeders.

Within seconds the garden was filled with a variety of birds which had flown down from their roosting sites to feast on the goodies. We were both busy watching their antics , when suddenly, as if by magic, large flakes of snow came fluttering down, changing the panorama from blackness into a bright, shining landscape.
Taz suddenly re-appeared to explore the snow, but his tummy was too full by then to be bothered by the sight of twittering birds squabbling over the pecking order at the feeders. As a lover of wildlife, I appreciate the presence of the birdlife in winter when there are less insects to admire and the ponds are frozen; so I have to make doubly sure Cookie and Taz are not around when the birds are getting their feed.
In spite of the thorny question of having cats in a garden, it is still possible to encourage birds to the garden and maintain the interests of both. The main thing is to make sure the cats are well fed first, before seeing to the birds.

While the snow was falling I stood, warm and dry, just inside the back door and took a few photos. Then I did the same from the front door, and from some of the windows in the house. The snowfall was too heavy to be out walking in, while trying to balance an umbrella to keep the camera dry, and take photos.

Besides, whenever I walk around the garden, regardless of the kind of weather, Taz follows to keep me company. Cookie does the same when the weather is warm. But, being an old cat now and quite frail, she seems to feel the cold in winter and almost hibernates in her downie, which is inside the drum of an old tumble-drier in the barn.

When we go to feed her in the mornings her little head pokes out from inside the drum to greet us...and when I stroke her, she feels so warm and cosy. She used to live in a different part of the barn, but, increasingly, we found her in the drum on a rug. So, my hubbie halved a downie and made two nests, hers and Taz's.

Occasionally, they come indoors, but they prefer to be out and about, roaming freely. Though they came of their own volition to live in the barn, and were not especially chosen by us as Baby, Jaffa and Monster had been, I am very fond of them. Taz is an excellent mouser, and both are friendly and very lovable cats.

Watching the birds, as we do, from our little 'hide', through the patio windows overlooking the back garden, the birds feel safe. Taz stays away when I am indoors too, so this position gives me the opportunity to take little videos as well as photos.

This morning was no exception, as you will see from the little video below. There was no sound save for the quiet ticking of our clock. If I had opened the windows the birds would have flown away.

Happy New Year, Everyone!

xxxxx

If you are a bird lover, the Royal Society For Birds (RSPB), is giving everyone the opportunity this weekend, 24 and 25 January, to participate in the world's biggest garden birdwatch. The details are below. Enjoy...and happy birdwatching :)

http://www.rspb.org.uk/birdwatch/takepart/tips.asp
xxxxx

'He made their glowing colours, He made their tiny wings.'

from: All Things Bright And Beautiful.