Knitting and Moths And Books

In complete contrast to yesterday we have bright sunshine here this morning and the world is glistening. I've just been watching a tiny wee spider flying through the air on the end of his gossamer-thin, fine strand of web. He looked like a miniature, eight-legged, rotund Tarzan as he swung serenely between two trees, carried along by the faint stirrings in the air.

The air inside the house felt stale, so I threw open all the windows. Are you a windows open or windows closed type of person? We are windows open people. At night, in the heart of winter, through tearing storms. Can't bear to have windows closed and not be breathing cool, fresh, clean air.

It is getting cold here at night. I am pondering replacing the summer quilt with the winter blanket I knitted last year. M scorns extra blankets on the bed, but then he never feels the cold, whereas I have been known to sleep in a hat. The heating was on last night for the first time and we had a fire.

The moths that are out now are hardy souls, capable of surviving rain and wind and frost and cold. I feel my admiration for them surge every autumn when the butterflies tuck up and they just Carry On Regardless. 

We had a Frosted Orange arrive here last night. I am always pleased to see them. They are beautiful, no? And if ever there was a good reason not  to cut down plants you may conceive as weeds in your garden these moths are it. They need thistles, burdocks, foxgloves, ragwort, mullein and figworts in order to survive. The moth overwinters as an egg on the food plant and the caterpillar feeds inside the stalks where it also pupates. All good reasons not to cut these plants back if you have them in your garden. Maybe leave a small area where you're happy for them to grow? You'll find Frosted Orange moths all over the UK and they are out from now until October.

There was also a Plume moth in the greenhouse. I think probably a Common Plume. These are out from Sept-May and feed on bindweed. Another plant often considered a weed :o)
 

There were a couple more Sallows in the box, fresh as daisies. These moths lay their eggs on Sallow and Poplars and the larvae feed inside the catkins in Spring. Later they feed on docks. They are widespread across the UK and are flying from now until October.
 

The Small Whites I collected as caterpillars are still emerging as adult flutters from the pupae. This is not what I expected them to do. I thought they would go through the winter and emerge next year. Perhaps they know something we don't and the weather will have a final fling of warmth? They have all been emerging in the late afternoon which is the opposite of what I expected them to do. It must be a survival strategy- perhaps they figure sitting tight through the night gives them a better chance in the morning of making it to a flower and taking in nectar, but that means they have the entire night after emerging without feeding and in cold temperatures too. Curious. They are still alive in the morning so it is working.
 

With the nights drawing in, my thoughts are turning towards knitting, which is a Winter Occupation for me. I have a nice thick warm scarf to continue making (doesn't take long with such fat needles)...

And a heathery-shades blanket made of different squares for the sofa...

There are also books to be read. These are not pick up and read cover to cover in one go type books for me- I tend to dip in and out of them...

 
Perhaps I shall take a few with me when we venture on to a Narrow Boat in a few week's time. The entire clan is going to celebrate my ma-in-law's 80th. There will be sixteen of us split between two Narrow Boats. The children have already begun putting forward their case for commandeering an entire Narrow Boat to themselves. What's not to worry about with that, eh?

There is an eighty year gap between the oldest and the youngest of us, although admittedly it can be a little hard to tell sometimes which is which. My FIL was busy pogo-ing with his grandchildren on his 80th- we had a laugh thinking about how he would explain any injury sustained from falling off the pogo stick in A&E. 

I've never been Narrow-Boating but have always thought it looked like a peaceful way to travel along water. I suspect I have vaguely Viking roots so perhaps I shall feel at home? I shall take knitting and books and the camera and binoculars and if I get fidgety at the lack of activity I shall jump onto the tow path and run up and down for a while :o) 

I'll leave you with a couple of shots of the Black-Eyed Susans which are flowering profusely  and wish you all a peaceful day,

CT :o)

Concussion Does Not Go Well With College & The Siskins Return

I have Mild Concussion. 

Courtesy of smacking my head on some shelves on Friday. It was a Pretty Hard Smack. I saw stars, felt sick, burst into tears and had to sit down for a while. Things flew off the shelves and tumbled across the floor, the dogs shot out of their beds and were over by the door before they knew what had happened and the wooden elephants who live on the shelf toppled over each other and ended up in an untidy elephanty-heap around a capsized vase. Thank God the new EB vases I bought this summer didn't smash. Then I really would have been pissed off cross.

I shrugged the headache off the next day, having got M to test that my pupils were working properly by shining a torch in them, and went out for a run. But yesterday at college I found I couldn't think straight or concentrate, and ended up misspelling words on the white board, and only realising I'd misspelt them some twenty minutes later having looked at them several times and not noticed. Not like me At All. It took me a while to realise it was probably concussion and I should probably go and see the GP.

I don't generally do Doctors. I am of the 'give it a few days and if it hasn't gone away maybe think about seeing the Doc, maybe' school of thought. The only time I'd go quickly after an accident now is if I thought I needed an xray, and that's only because if you leave it a few days it isn't free as per A&E, and private xrays aren't cheap. 

I learnt that after I fell heavily on my hand after performing an impressive but entirely unintentional somersault through the air off a horse who, at a gallop, had himself had been brought down by one of those hideous hidden bogs the New Forest specialises in. The somersault may have been impressive (according to F, who was watching) but unfortunately the landing was less elegant and my left hand ended up squashed and twisted under me in a way hands are generally not designed to go.

It was extremely painful but I got back on because we were in the middle of the forest and what else do you do? And lasted about ten minutes before I had to concede I was in quite a lot of pain and couldn't actually use the injured hand. I didn't go to the doc (because of the whole 'it'll be fine in a few days, don't fuss' thing) but a week later I was forced to because I couldn't use the hand. It wasn't broken as it happens and I carried on riding and competing with it strapped up while it healed (which took about 18 months - ironically far longer than if it had been broken. It still twinges now, four years later if I catch it wrong). Anyway, I learnt a lesson: if you think you've broken something get it xrayed asap.

That was possibly the last time I went to see the GP. This morning he told me I have to rest for 2-3 days and it should be fine. Grrrr. I don't really do resting. He said no running either. Pffft. At least I have a very good excuse if my first proper session with the first years later this week ends up a disaster.

In Other News, the Siskins are back. I thought I heard them chattering away together in the trees by the lake yesterday. My ears are used to all the regular birds so when someone new calls it stands out a mile and my ears prick up and tune to it. I didn't see them but they often turn up here in Autumn in a big gang to feed on the alders, although they were absent last year. Siskins are a type of finch, colourful, noisy and very adept and acrobatic through the branches. They occasionally come into the garden to pinch the niger seeds and that is where I saw one of them this morning, confirming what my ears had already told me yesterday :o)

This is a male, although his colours are a little muted. Some of them are bright as bright can be. I shall now be keeping an eye out for his many wives.

Raining here (again) and I have a pile of work on nitrates to get through although sewing is calling to me....as are biscuits..... Hope this all makes sense, but if it doesn't please blame the knock on the head :o)

Right-O, onwards and upwards...

Hope all are well?

CT :o)

 

The Apple Tree & The Wild Harvest

We have an old Apple tree in our garden. He has been my friend ever since we moved here, almost a decade ago. He isn't huge, in the way of Apple trees, but he is calm and steady and peaceful, bedecked with white sweet-smelling blossom in spring and fulsome with apples in autumn. If the day's energy has been fraught, I will go and sit with him and talk the source of the fraugtness over. He listens, patient, deep and still and I invariably feel better by the time I rise and go back to the house.

L was drawn to him from the first and he still has the echoes of the boys' younger childhood days among his branches in the form of swings and rope ladders. M repaired and painted a bench that encircles him and Poppy likes to lie on it and watch me hanging out the washing, while Ted hides beneath the bench by the trunk of the tree when their games stretch just that little bit too far into Poppy Exuberance for him.

This autumn, the Apple tree is laden with fruits. Some have dropped to the earth already and become food for the wasps and the birds, and I have swept those into two piles, but many more remain on the branches. This weekend L and I have been high up on the ladder in the heart of the tree's kingdom picking apples for friends, neighbours and folk passing by.

I've given the fruit away for free. It seemed churlish to ask for money when the tree does all the hard work and we have more than we and the wild things need. It's good karma to share plenty when you have it- perhaps one day we may be in need and the Universe will remember the bags of apples left quietly by the gate.

They are proving popular- I have been up and down the ladder re-filling bags and re-stocking the box by the gate for the past three days. M expressed surprise that so many people stop to collect them. I think perhaps people are not so very disconnected from the soil after all that they aren't drawn to fresh produce when it's waiting. And there is something a little bit magical about collecting fruits and vegetables from someone's gate, with no sign of a supermarket anywhere in sight. I like to think of those people making apple cake, apple crumble, blackberry and apple pie with the apples from our tree. It makes me feel warm and smiley.

There is a reciprocity here too. I left a note asking for spare plastic bags, and they have been turning up, quietly and without fuss, handfuls left in the Apple Box by way of thanks for the fruit.

 
M and I went down the lane to Mottisfont (site of the ancient Abbey and still more ancient Springs) yesterday, dog poo bags (empty) in hand to look for the Wild Plum Tree that stands on a bend in the lane. It bears small yellow fruits which drop onto the metallic surface of the lane where they get squished by passing cars. I think people don't notice them but we do. We came home with a bag full. M got a stick and shook the branches and the plums came raining down on our heads. It was a mad laughing scrabble to collect them before they rolled down the hill round the bend and disappeared, or before a car came and flattened them. M did threaten to put me on his shoulders so I could reach up into the tree and pick the plums that way, but the height aspect (not to mention the whole wobble-and-therefore-potential-collapse aspect) scared me so I declined. I expect the entire thing was the perfect opposite to health and safety, but there you go :o)

 
The keen-eyed among you will have spotted the lone blackberry sitting atop the plums. I picked a handful from the hedge beside the plum tree and added them, with raspberries from the garden, into a custardy caramelly croissanty baked puddingy thing, which we ate last night while watching Lady Chatterley's Lover...

The sun has been shining and it has been warm. I went to see Coco (our rescue pony who lives with Ma). He's an old boy now, although quite how old we don't know, and he lives a peaceful, well-loved existence these days, having been through Tough Times in the past. He came to me several years ago when I was looking for a pony for L. Coco was all wrong for what I wanted and I originally returned home without him, but I woke at 5am the next day with his face before my eyes and I knew I needed to go back for him. His hooves were long and untrimmed, he had an infected tooth hanging out of his mouth making eating and drinking hard for him and he was full of worms. TLC works wonders: within a week he was looking like a different pony and a month later you wouldn't have recognised him. He has lived with Ma for many years now and is the Apple of her eye. Polos are his favourite thing in the whole world and woe betide you if you go to see him without any. I took Pop along with me as she was keen to see him.

 
Teddy is used to horses but Pop isn't. She behaved perfectly. No chasing, no running too close to hooved back feet, no jumping about. She loved every minute of being in the fields, but when we came home she fell silent and still and didn't resume her usual exuberance for nine hours. I suspect a reaction to a plant. I bathed her paws but it didn't seem to make a difference. The energy in the house is All Adrift when Pop is off colour. She is a such a bundle of joy and life and naughtiness that it's All Wrong when she's subdued. Anyway, some healing worked and she suddenly snapped back to normal, but a vet's visit is due this week just to get her checked out. I expect they'll offer antihistamines, but we'll see.

I'll leave you with some shots from around the garden as another week draws to a happy close...

 

Hope you've all had a peaceful weekend and have a good week coming,

CT :o)

Sallow Moths & Chocolate Brownie Recovery

Is it Friday already? 

I have ticked many things off my ginormous list this week (tax return done, half term holiday booked, washing machine man rung to fix washing machine, B&B booked for me and colleague for Dormouse Weekend on the Isle of Wigit, Poppy's bra and the dogs' towel washed, buttons sewn on shorts, hem repaired on trousers, bat survey data put on line, pension form handed in for work, new job app form collected, new zips ordered for crimble present making, apples from the tree put in box by gate for Passing Apple Eaters to help themselves to, college stuff read through, lecture written on dormice ecology for two week's time, next week's session with first years planned, L's resistant materials homework done (if I don't get an 'A' in that GCSE I'll be furious), lost school tie and belt located, sups with old friends booked in diary, newly-emerged small white flutter person released from pupae nursery box, Mark Avery's new book on Driven Grouse Shooting ordered and arrived- called Inglorious, in case you're interested, food shop ordered and General Household Stuff done).

M went to Brussels on Wednesday (4.30am start, very-nearly-midnight return, thanks to a broken-down tube train) and I had my day with the new first years yesterday (6.30am start, 4.30 return). The day went well, although it included a brain-ache-inducing talk with the Lab about how best to approach some water testing we're doing for my dissertation. It was the sort of conversation where you leave knowing less than when you arrived, and pretty confused about what you thought you knew in the first place.

Last night as a result of all of this I had every intention of hitting the gin, but fell asleep on the sofa at 8pm watching the gentle sleuthing of Father Brown instead. This morning I am scoffing salt and vinegar crisps and copious quantities of the squidgy chocolate brownies I made last night instead. I deliberately cut them into tiny squares to give the illusion of not eating many at all. It's very nearly working. 

I had some Mothy Visitors this morning. At long last The Sallows have turned up, with a few Autumn Cousins thrown in (although not literally, that would be awful) for good measure. The Sallows were all fast asleep on the dewy grass and to be honest I nearly trod on them. Disaster was averted but then they all played dead when I scooped them up. A bee who was in the moth box also played dead this morning to such convincing effect that he very nearly became a victim of his own success. Fortunately for him I put him on the electrics box of the moth trap for a minute before disposing of him outside and when I went back to get him he was sitting up cleaning his wings. He's now outside in the hawthorn hedge. Phew. 

I brought the moths in early and they sat on the table having breakfast with M who raised one eyebrow. 'I have to bring them in,' I explained, 'or Herr Robin will get them.' 'Oh,' said M. And then, after a short pause: 'why is the Robin German?'


Here are the Lovely Moths. Leaves have been added to demonstrate the Remarkable Powers Of Camouflage the Sallows (and Thorns) possess...

Sallow and Leaf

Sallows and leaf. They even have the same small dark dots leaves acquire as they degrade. Clever Little Moths :o)

Thorn Moths and leaves (the top one is a leaf, but I think it looks just like the moths. If I were a bird that would be a real puzzler to me).

Sallow

Beaded Chestnut

Lesser Swallow Prominent

Lunar Underwing

The sun is shining here today after a week of rain. Don't know whether it will last but I shall be making the most of it, once I've caught up on your blogs.

Hope you're all having a Good Week,

CT :o)

This And That

Wet and chilly. The fire has been lit. The dogs and I got soaked this morning. They don't mind a drop of rain but they do object to a torrential, horizontally-driven downpour and we managed to time our walk so the heaviest rain coincided with the open stretch of field-without-much-shelter. Teddy tucked in behind me with his ears down and followed me at a dejected trot while Pop being Pop just squashed her ears flat to her head and scampered on ahead, glacing back every now and then to hurry me and Teddy along.

Ted spent half of Sunday underneath the car and is now Completely Oily as a result. The rain hasn't helped clean him at all and he's going to see Mrs Danning for a hair cut next week so I have the dilemma of do I wash him before he goes or do I not? M says, don't be ridiculous, she always gives them a bath anyway, but I think it's that old thing that women do, like cleaning your house before the house-cleaner comes....

I have my first day with the new first years later this week. I know nothing about them yet, only that the group is about fifteen strong. I've planned the first two sessions which has been an interesting exercise in itself and made me think about learning in ways I hadn't before. It's an unexpected outlet for some creativity.

M's marathon went well. 26 miles in a little over 3 hours and he wasn't hobbling about like John Wayne either. I like to run a little of the way with him towards the end. It gives me the illusion that I've actually just run a marathon myself and look remarkably fresh considering.

M took a sign that read Careful Now with him. It was a reply to his friend Richard who was going to be out on the course with one that read Down with this sort of thing (Father Ted, in case you were wondering). In the event Richard wasn't there so M held Careful Now up for my benefit as he neared the finish line. That and the fact I took off to run next to him in jeans, a coat and walking boots and with my camera banging about me probably explained the bemused look on the marshals' faces.

Next March we will head down to Devon for The Grizzly, a gnarly race along the coast that involves pebble beaches and sheer cliff faces. It's very uppy downy. A whole bunch of our mates go and we all meet up on the beach beforehand then cheer each other in at the end. There is usually weather to contend with as well as geography. Many's the time my buddy Lou and I have been forced to retreat to our favourite seafront cafe where we stare out the window at the raging howling winds, the pouring biting rain and the angry boiling seas lashing the shore while we eat cake, drink copious quantities of steaming hot chocolate with dollops of cream and catch up on news. We have, on occasion, been so snugly ensconced and so deep in gossip Important Conversational Matters, that we have almost missed our husbands finishing entirely....

There is an eight mile version called The Cub which M is threatening to enter me for encouraging me to do. Can you imagine? Honestly, my legs wobble when I finish a 5k Park Run! Although my buddy Lynn has run it, so you never know...next year's challenge, anyone? It would definitely be deserving of the jazziest shorts yet.

In Other News, I have discovered the Joys of the latest craze of colouring in books for adults. Not, sadly, as risque as they sound (M was nervous of what he might see when internet searching for adult colouring-in books). These are lovely things packed full of twisty-turny naturey type patterns. I've got new pencils which turn into paints if you add water....

 
...and spent last night colouring in various insects in the near-dark, so this morning's results looked interesting...

 
I think they are a great way of encouraging folks who may not consider themselves to be artistic to enjoy creating a picture and using colour, and for those of us who can draw but who are too lazy tired after a long day to get pad and pens out and create something new, to just enjoy the sensation of colouring. They are being marketed as stress busters and I think there may well be something in that.

I have bought some for L because he is having trouble getting to sleep. You can imagine how that spills over into everything. Apparently, it's very common at this age and is caused by the circadian rhythm which controls the release of melatonin (the hormone that lets you sleep) shifting by a few hours. I do feel sorry for teens whose body clocks are set to a pattern not shared by the rest of the world. It is extremely wearying when you can't fall asleep till 2 or 3 in the morning and then have to get up and do a full day of school the next day.

In an attempt to re-shift it back we are adhering to VERY regular bed and rise times (including and especially the weekend). You can imagine the way that has been received. It's been a wearying couple of weeks for both of us. To cheer L up I got him some chocolate, a new book and sketch pad and pencils yesterday, and to cheer myself up I got a new velvet and linen shawl.

I've had a green velvet shawl for many years. After a while it started coming apart at the seams, so this Spring with my New Found Sewing Skills I decided to bite the bullet and fix it. I took a deep breath, took it all apart, cleaned out the guff that had collected inside (no idea where all the fluff came from) and restitched it with the help of Phyllis (sewing machine in case you've forgotten). It worked! 

It is lovely as a summery/ autumny type shawl, but it isn't long enough as a winter-on-the-sofa type cover. So, brainwave, I thought: I'll get another one, take both apart and stitch them together. The new one is the opposite colour of the old one which you can see below... My only worry is when the new one arrives will I balk at unpicking both and re-stitching them in case it doesn't work and I spoil two gorgeous shawls?

 
I'll leave you with the Goldfinch who has returned to the Garden now wintery weather is a-coming...

...and wish you all a Peaceful Week with Plenty Of Sleep,

CT :o)

Hummingbird Hawkmoth, And An Unusually Competitive Game Of Ball

I've been bemoaning the lack of our Hummingbird Hawkmoth. Normally, he/ she visits about this time of the year. He/ she is Particularly Fond of our Star Jasmine and our Runner Bean Flowers. Both are very nearly over and so far, no moth. 

Hummingbird Hawks are very small and yet they fly across the land and sea from Africa every spring to reach the UK. They are what's called an Indicator Species for climate change because their range expands and contracts in line with trend changes in climate. They are becoming more common in the UK (I've seen three this summer at different sites) as the climate warms. Butterfly Conservation asks for records of the moths when and where they're seen, so if you have seen one do log the sighting here.

We were surveying for butterflies yesterday. There weren't many around as we're nearing the end of the season for them, but I was keen to reach a particular strand of buddleia because I saw Painted Ladies and a Hummingbird Hawk there a couple of weeks ago (on a rare occasion I didn't have my camera with me of course) and HBHMs in particular are site-faithful having good memories and will return to the same plants.

Guess who was there when we arrived....?

 

Fabulous. Can't tell you how chuffed I was to see him :o)

Back home there has been a Birth...

I had just transferred their house to the garage for the winter thinking there would be no emergences now, this late in the season, and look what happened... the first of the Small Whites appeared out of her pupa. She sat on my finger for a while and considered me before fluttering on to the buddleia. After a short altercation with a bee (who won), she flew off. Seems late in the day because she's now got to mate, lay eggs, the pillars feed and pupate if they have any hope of surviving the winter, but nature usually knows what it's doing.

Pop was keen as mustard to sniff her, a suggestion I declined, for obvious reasons. She hid her disappointment well by turning her attention to her favourite basketball and leaping on it, growling.
 
Poppy has a thing about Balls. Big balls, small balls, bouncy balls, squeaky balls, footballs, basketballs, tennis balls, ping pong balls. She loves them all. Her Christmas present last year was a small red rubber ball made from uber endurable rubber (for obvious reasons). She takes it everywhere with her and plays with it constantly. Her fave game is to chuck it up in the air and then run after it like a mad wee thing. I had a visitor here a while back who was startled by an enormous crash from the hall. She looked at me as if I was mad when I said it was just Poppy throwing her ball at the front door :o)

Her favourite outside ball is a basketball that belongs to F which he graciously shares with her. The two of them spend hours together in the garden using it as a football. When he isn't here she puts her paws on it and stares mournfully at whoever's in the garden begging them to please play with me?

She's Quite Hard To Resist, and yesterday it was L who succumbed to the pleading and they had ten minutes kick around together. Playing footie with Pop is Quite Hard because she does so love clinging on to the ball with her paws or teeth and you have to take Great Care not to whomp her in the chops or tummy when aiming for the ball. She is a sturdy little thing, being a JR, and very quick so you can't even whip the ball away and kick it in the opposite direction without finding you've got a Jack Russell still attached to it.

Teddy does not like balls. Not remotely interested. Never has been. Nope. Thank you, I've got better things to do. I'll lie on the grass and watch instead, thanks. Or maybe sniff the hedge where the rats are. No thanks, I don't want to play. Can't see the point of balls (except in the keeping Poppy busy and therefore out of my fur department).

So why, then, after six years, did this suddenly happen yesterday...?

What's that you've got there, Poppy?

It's my ball, Ted.

Can I play?

Ok  (even though you've never shown the remotest interest before and I've asked you HUNDREDS of times...)

It's mine now.

I don't think so, Ted.

Quite possibly the funniest part of this game was that, after fifteen minutes of them zooming about the garden together chasing the ball (during which time Ted displayed the most astonishing, and Completely Unexpected Skills, in particular dribbling the ball with incredible accuracy and finesse all round the lawn and into the hedge (which they'd decided was their goal) with a deftness I would not have credited if I hadn't seen it), he Quite Suddenly got bored and walked off, leaving the ball still wobbling slightly in the middle of the lawn and Poppy looking a little bit perplexed to say the least.

M has been pondering whether Ted (given his track record of having conference speakers look like him) could be a convincing Stand In for Jeremy Corbyn when he finds the new job of Leader of the Labour party a bit exhausting. He reasons they are both grey, hairy and a little grizzled-looking and share a penchant for wearing hats. What d' you think? 

 

Alternatively, he could stand in for Roy Strong and make Interesting Points about Art History and paintings....

 

Hope you're all having a lovely weekend? I'm off to watch my husband run a marathon. Poppy is cross because she isn't allowed to run it with him :o)

CT :o)