Tag: Common

August 26th – I think I was a bit previous on the acorn thing.

I think acorns affected by galls fruit sooner. Perhaps there’s a naturally selective advantage in this. It’s fascinating me.

In the last couple of weeks, a huge crop of acorns has developed, even on the blighted trees. They came later than the acorn galls, and are plump and where unaffected, a great looking crop.

I’d say now less than 5% are galls.

Is there a guide or information anywhere about this? It’s fascinating me.

August 14th – I’m told these cherry-like fruits, growing on the trees on the Clayhanger side of the pedestrian bridge at Silver Street, Brownhills, are wild plums. They are most fascinating, and ripening in abundance.

I wouldn’t eat them, considering the history of the land they’re groin on, but the are a curiosity. Wonder how they got here?

July 21st – On Clayhanger Common, near the Pier Street Bridge, a powder blue, ball-shaped wildflower I believe to be field scabious. It’s growing very densely in a small patch and is rather beautiful.

Scabious derives the somewhat odd name from scabies, the disease the plant was believed to treat, as well as plague sores and other itchy conditions – scabies itself coming from the Latin ‘Scabere’ – to scratch.

I’ve not seen this here before, and it’s a welcome addition.

June 30th – Looking almost frosted on the warmest day of the year, this is a cowslip seed head. It’s not quite ready yet, and is ripening in the sun beneath the trees by the Pier Street Bridge at the edge of Clayhanger Common. I have my eye on it and it’s fellow plants: as soon as they’re ready, I’ll take a few seed heads and scatter the seeds elsewhere.

You can’t have too many cowslips. Spread the love, people.

25th June – It’s easy to overlook the weeds and commonest wildflowers, but also a crime. I love dandelions, buttercups and daisies – they’re the unsung, everyday background to many beautiful views. After all, what would a gorgeous summer meadow be without them? Yet how often do we really study these most common of flowers?

I love daisies in particular. Delicate, colourful and hard, they are a real success of the British ecosystem, yet few ever give them a second thought.

Here’s to the common, but unseen.

May 29th – I don’t know why, but I find these oak galls a bit horrible. They are distorted leaf buds, into which a wasp injects it’s egg and a chemical which causes the tree to grown the gall instead of a leaf stalk. The larva lives within the growth, feasting on it. When mature, the wasp eats it’s way out and the life cycle continues.

This tree on Clayhanger Common is peppered with these tumour-like galls – they look like fruit. The gall doesn’t harm the tree particularly, but it’s a very visible parasite.

there are many different types of gall wasp, all with different methods and growths. I’ve not seen this one before, and am unsure what it is specifically.

Nature can be very odd sometimes.

May 14th – On Clayhanger Common, in very poor light and heavy rain, a group of six red deer – a stag and six hinds. In fine fettle, still moulting out, they walked towards me cautiously until spooked by a dog (which I cursed royally).

I am seeing the deer three or four times a week at the moment. I’ve never seen so many here. It’s astounding that such beasts live here in such apparent peace. I love them to bits.

May 11th – Cowslips are my favourite flowers. When I was a kid, these dainty little primroses were rarely seen in the area, yet thanks to wildflower planting campaigns, they’ve really got a strong foothold back in the local ecosystem. 

I love to see them, and this year they’ve lasted for weeks in the mild, dry spring; only now are they starting to go over; and even in that, they’re beautiful.

There may be bolder, bigger flowers – but you can’t match the cowslip for effort.

May 6th – I got back to Brownhills at sunset, but couldn’t get anywhere to get a good view of it, sadly; but it did look nice from the canal over Clayhanger Common. 

It was nice to be home; I was worn out. Some days, you don’t know which way up you are by the end of them. Your legs turn the pedals, and your body knows which way to go, but mentally, you’re knackered.