August 5th – Looping back, still with a heavy heart, I stopped on the Pier Street bridge and noticed that more exploratory groundworks had been taking place on the old market site off Silver Street, clearly in preparation for new housing given permission there.

I’m all for that and hope work starts soon – anything that makes this area look less open and bleak is welcome to me.

That thought, at least, made me somewhat brighter.

August 5th – A day when I wasn’t feeling great. People I love are leaving for long holidays, which will make my personal life unusually quiet for a few weeks, and I had a dreadful migraine that disturbed my vision and made it impossible to read or concentrate.

I went out late to do some shopping, and spun out to Chasewater along the canal. The day had been squally, but right now there were blue skies and sun, and I admired the fields of wheat running across Home Farm to Sandhills. I guess these will be harvested soon as the adjacent oilseed rape has been, and the cycle resets for another year.

Today, I felt sad, but the sun and air did me good. But inside, the weeks of quiet to come were making me down.

August 4th – Spotted on the way home, again in the cat metropolis that is The Butts in Walsall, this shy (presumed) siamese. It wasn’t feeling the love at all and certainly couldn’t make an exit fast enough, but what a lovely puss. Shame it didn’t fancy an ear tickle.

Someone is very proud of that gorgeous cat. Never seen this one before.

August 4th – For another sign of autumn’s looming shadow, you can do little better than windfall conkers. This large, pristine example was found on the Lichfield Road, near Walsall town centre.

I rescued it before it got squashed by traffic, then feeling foolish on my realising there was absolutely nothing I could do with it as the shiny fruit within the spiky shell wasn’t ripe yet. 

Like most male humans, I’m programmed not to pass by a conker in the road, and throughout autumn I’ll have pockets full of them to no end whatsoever.

There was nothing else to do except feature this find on 365days…

August 3rd – I’m amazed at the general variety between types of rosehips. I mentioned these sweet fruit of the rosebush on here a few days ago, and noticed today they were  developing at a fair pace now. They range from thin, almost yellow and small, to bright red, akin to a radish, like the one above, which is actually quite large. 

It’s interesting as there seems less variety in wild rose flowers than there seems to be in the seed fruit.

At this time in late summer they make for a welcome splash of colour, and will continue to be so until late autumn. A beautiful but slightly sad reminder that the season’s wheel continues to roll forward whether we like it or not.

August 3rd – It’s been a few weeks since I called at Telford, and was pleased to note the flowerbed at the station has now been replanted with late flowering plants and as ever, is a credit to those that look after it.

Resplendent in shades of red, white and blue the yellow flowers are curious and I’ve not seen them here before. Anyone know what they are?

A lovely bit of brightness on an otherwise dull day.

August 2nd – Another late summer and autumn bounty is fungi. A prime hunting ground for edible treats like these lovely field mushrooms and puffballs are the verges of industrial estates. Usually undisturbed, fungi prosper quietly here, and tend to go unstomped by mischievous kids. 

From now until late autumn I will carry a cotton bag and knife to perform an impromptu harvest of anything tasty that would otherwise go unplucked.

This time of year does have some excellent things to commend it.

August 2nd – Travelling to work on a miserable morning in steady rain, it was nice to continue the fruit-spotting with these glistening, deep red crabapples near Bughole Bridge in Darlaston.

Crabapples – bitter, hard miniature versions of the more palatable dessert fruit – come in many varieties from green through russet to deep, deep red like these. These fruits seem uninviting to almost everything and these will remain on the tree until well into the new year, and rot on the ground untouched by birds or squirrels.

They must be awfully acid, but they are so very handsome when new.

August 1st – Also ripening well are the rosehips, the seed fruit of the various types of wild and feral rose that grow so beautifully by the towpaths and edge lands all over urban Britain. Sweet and juicy, they are sought after by birds, mammals and foragers alike.

Less common and indeed, quite a find, is the odd, hairy wasp gall growing on the same bush. This is the wonderfully named robins pincushion gall, or sometimes just moss gall.

Like oak galls, this curious mutation forms from a leaf bud on the rose stem injected with eggs and a DNA corrupting chemical by a tiny wasp. The chemical causes the leaf bud to mutate into this odd growth instead, and at the heart of the woolly mass is a solid core, in which the eggs hatch, and the larvae eat their way out when ready.

the gall doesn’t harm the rose particularly and is just another fascinating example of the ingenuity of evolution, with host and parasite developing together for thousands of years.

August 1st – So, it’s August and we’re coasting steadily through high summer into autumn, as signified by a rash of sudden fruiting; the harvest has started and has been paused due to rains – but everywhere, blackberries are darkening, apples are swelling, berries are becoming plump and all manner of hips, haws and funny are maturing nicely.

On my way to work on a pleasant, sunny morning, I noticed the crimson red of hawthorn berries darkening in the hedgerows and thickets. Bitter and woody, these berries will last long enough to carry many songbirds through winter.

I just have no idea where this year has gone…