August 25th – I loped back from Alvecote through Seckington, Clifton, Darlaston and Whittington. It was a lovely evening ride marred only by my stomach troubles.
At Haunton, the beautiful little Catholic church there remains a hidden gem, the rows of graves of nuns from the local convent still sobering and very sad. Here I noted cyclamen, another sign of Autumn, and darkness fell what seemed to be cruelly early bit with a gorgeous orange moon.
Autumn is tapping me on the shoulder now…
August 23rd – I don’t know what it is in the season, but the acorns this year are prolific and absolutely huge. With the dry summer I’d have expected the opposite, but they are absolutely huge.
The fecundity of the crop is, however, being affected by the large amount of knopper galls, that from from acorns attacked by the knopper wasp. Also a peculiar seasonal phenomenon, they are very,. very red this year, whereas it’s usually just tinges of colour.
Wonder why?
August 21st – My late commute homeward bound collided with the start of the golden hour, a sign that the nights are closing in now, although I was unusually late, so no need to panic yet, I guess.
Passing the trees on the edge of Grange Farm near the Black Cock Bridge, the golden light fell through the edge land and was magical.
After a dull, damp, uninspiring start to the day, a welcome dose of sunshine.
August 20th – One of the sad but beautiful signs of a closing summer is toadflax, otherwise known as butter and eggs. This beautiful plant, in shades of yellow, white and orange will be common now in hedges and on towpath fringes until October.
It’;s a lovely thing but it does make me sad for a season passed.
August 19th – Talking of the harvest, at Home Farm, Sandhills, the cornfield I’d captured the rainbow and remarkable sunset from a few weeks ago has now been harvested, and the stubble, still golden in the overcast day, is awaiting ploughing back in.
My favourite tree – my marker for the seasons, the horse Chestnut by the farmhouse – is clearly laden with conkers.
What a fantastic summer and season this has been. Just what I needed.
August 14th – A tiring, very long day, but despite my weekend gloom (sometimes the IBS gets you like that) the weather is still very dry and warm – although not the sun-drenched heatwave of a couple of weeks ago, it’s still warm enough to ride with just a tee shirt and hopefully catch a little warmth on the skin.
The weekend’s small amount of rain clearly hasn’t been wasted: things suddenly look green anew – the canal at Clayhanger Bridge was as limpid and peaceful as ever, but the surrounding vegetation is greening up again. It looks… Fresher. Grass is sprouting again, and optimistic, opportunistic weeds and wildflowers are shooting up on the edgelands.
Looks like summer isn’t over after all…
August 13th – At Hortonwood in Telford, I found a small wayside oak sapling, which was growing round, large acorns. they were generally healthy and surprisingly large, with only a handful affected by knapper galls – and where they were, the actual effect of the acorn remained small.
The ants were clearly interested in the acorns, but I have no idea why, and I’m wondering if the low gall-count and manner of development is maybe signifying and evolved defence to these parasites.
Certainly is fascinating. Going to be a good crop of acorns this year I think, and a bumper hedgerow harvest generally from what I can see so far.
August 11th – On the Black Path, it felt like autumn. On the canal it rained like autumn.
I hope the sun comes back soon. I feel bereft.
August 11th – It’s silly, I know. I’m being ridiculous. I’m aware that it’s just my overreaction to the sudden lack of sunshine. But today, I was sad. I was ill with the IBS and I was pining for summer, for in the gloom which would, in any other year be normal, I started to pine for summer.
It’s ridiculous. I feel deep down like summer has ended and that’s it.
I took a short circuit round Brownhills, late. The rain came on heavily. For once, being out made me sad, not happy. The greyness had flooded into me. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up and sleep.
The brightness was there, though: In the poisonous white bryony in the hedge at Home Farm, Sandhills, and in the yellow water flowers near Newtown.
But even they couldn’t lift me. I went home, listened to sad music and went to bed early.
August 8th – The rain came in Redditch just as I boarded the train back, and I thought it was probably in for the afternoon. I was however wrong, it seems to have been a narrow band of rain that passed the conurbation, and it approached me once more as I rode back from Shenstone. It caught me in the lanes.
The rain was sweet, warm and enjoyable when it came, following skies that would surely have won an Oscar for best supporting performance.
What wasn’t so great however was that one more, with insufficient rain to wash it away, the roads became greasy, slippery and soppy with the road debris and wash down.
It pains me to say it but we need heavy and prolonged rain to clear this away.
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