Tag: gorse

April 18th – Not far today, I was busy and weary with a rough throat. I busied myself with spannering the bikes, which are still suffering from the winter. A little wheel truing; further brake tweaks and creak-hunting. Soon be top-notch again.

It was windy but warm as I headed into Brownhills for shopping, and as I passed the canal at Silver Street, I noticed that some embankment work was finally going on, and it’s be interesting to see if they do some of the really bad bits towards Catshill Junction and Clayhanger Bridge.

The gorse was flowering strongly, and the trees along the canal edge are just in blossom. The canoe centre was a hive of activity, which the swans nesting nearby kept a watchful eye on; although there was no need – the canoeists were giving the nest and patrolling dad plenty of space…

December 19th – Also on my commute, the gorse (or is it broom?) is in flower again. This spiny, prehistoric-looking shrub fascinates me, and seems to be in flower for all but two or three months of the year these days.

A welcome splash of colour during the dark, grey days of winter.

July 23rd – in the Goscote Valley on my way to work, as the day started to warm up, I was drawn to a continual crackling sound. This always fascinates me; it’s the sound of gorse pods popping open with a snap, and scattering their seeds.

The action is induced by the warmth of the sun, and makes for an interesting diversion on the way to work. I love how the pods rattle musically when you shake the bushes, too.

It’s the little things that make summer, really.

May 10th – Not a great day, blustery with rain showers, but the flowers and blossom still look good. On the local canal bands hawthorn, gorse, laburnum and cowparsley combine to leave the hedgerows a riot of yellow and white, the colours of spring and early summer.

All these are quite ordinary, overlooked blooms, but do look at the gorse and cowparsley – fantastically complex and beautiful.

On that gorse/broom thing…

I was always told by my old man that it was gorse. So I called it this for years. Last year, I posted a picture and a somewhat irritable commenter told me it was broom, not gorse. Not checking, I took their word for it.

Linda and others, you are quite right, that’s Gorse and I am now finally clued up. 

Cheers to all who drew my attention to it. I do like to get stuff right, and if ever I’m wrong, feel free to point it out. I want to get stuff right.

Personally, I blame the Welsh.

Cheers
Bob

February 14th – And still, gently, slowly, almost imperceptibly, nature is shuffling things into place for spring. When the rain stops and the sun warms the earth, fields, hedgerows and pools, all the preparations will pay off and the cascade of flowers, green and growth will begin. 

Just as it does every year.

The canals are dotted right now with floating roots. These are bullrushes looking for a new home. In winter, they readily split from their parent clumps, and drift, looking for a decent spot to anchor and regrow. Scaly and ivory in colour, they vary from a couple of feet long to small nodules. 

Also, the Broom is well in flower. I’ve been erroneously calling this gorse for years, and apparently it’s actually broom. But hell, it’s bright yellow and about the only colourful thing in the hedgerows right now.

April 23rd – To be in England, in the springtime. I had to go to Leicester, and the patch of waste ground that so enthrals me at South Wigston Station was, as ever, a joy to the heart. Beebuzz and birdsong greeted me as I hefted my bike of the train in the bright, warm sun; peacock butterflies flitted about the lush flowers. Grape Hyacinth, primrose, gorse, dandelion. Performing for me, in this moment, in the middle of urban sprawl. A small wayside oasis, hardly noticed by anyone.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

November 20th – it’s an odd season, this. Coming back along the canal before heading towards Stonnall, I passed the gorse thicket by the Pier Street pedestrian bridge in Brownhills… remarkably, it’s in bloom. It’s been unseasonably warm and dry, surely these bushes don’t think it’s may again? From the ramp of the bridge, the damp spiderwebs made for an interesting contrast with the dark green foliage and yellow flowers.

July 14th – Gorse bushes line the canal banks and cover the heaths and commons of Brownhills in abundance. For a while in May they are a riot of yellow and deep, deep green, and then, late July into August the seed pods ripen, blacken and dry in the sun. When ready, the seed casings pop open in the heat, with a characteristic cracking sound that will be familiar to any local who grew up amongst the grasslands of the area. As the Gorse slowly ripens, the rattling of the fruit is almost musical. It’s always fascinated me. This fine example was on the sandbank at Wharf Lane.