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 – 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…
July 28th – A sunny morning, but dreadfully wet return from work made for an odd day. I’m increasingly aware now of summer and time marching on and this shows in the shift from flowering to fruiting.
The apples near the scrapyard at Bentley Bridge are looking wonderful again this year. Such a shame nobody can get close enough to pick them!
Looks like it’ll be another fruitful autumn…
July 26th – Passing through Stonnall on my way home, I noted the harvest has started, presumably to beat that morning’s rain, but it’s a sobering sight.
Near Lower Stonnall, the oilseed rape has been cut, the fields looking ragged and desolate, covered in the stalks, pods and shredded chaff that the harvester blows out after flailing out the precious black seeds.
Perhaps more strikingly, the field adjacent has already been harvested and ploughed over for the next crop.
It feels uncomfortably like Autumn’s breath is on my shoulder…
July 23rd – A somnambulant, headache-grey day followed a night during which a work call out had prevented me getting any sleep at all. I slipped out early in the afternoon to sunshine and showers from a shifting, occasionally azure blue, occasionally black sky,
I drifted up to Chasewater, and on the way took a look at the crops in Home Farm fields at Sandhills. Both the oilseed rape and wheat are near ripeness now and I bet as soon as the rain dries off, the harvesting will be game on.
And so the year and season advances a notch.
July 17th – Time for my annual botanically subversive mission: spreading the cowslip love.
After the usual delightful display in the spring, my favourite flowers have finally started to seed. I carefully collect the seed heads in a bag, shaking the seeds into it.
When I have plenty, I carefully spread the seeds on hedgerows, verges and anywhere that would benefit from springtime cowslips.
Guerilla seeding. Do something pretty while you can.
July 16th – The dying light intensified it’s drama as I headed back wearily to Brownhills. The Parade is always a treat but with so many mature deciduous trees there now, a low sun is a real treat.
It’s not hard to see the beauty in this place. You just need to be receptive to it and find the right light.
July 16th – I seem to have it with a cold. I’ve been feeling a bit peaky all weekend with a headache and sinus trouble, and today I couldn’t raise any energy to move until evening – but a short ride in a terrific warm, sunny golden hour was well worth what seemed like a superhuman effort.
In the backlanes of Stonnall, a shed, fallen spent marble oak gall. Spongy, expanded and very different to the marble-hardness of the fresh variety, this had maybe a couple of hundred holes drilled in it where the emerging wasp larva had bored their way out to freedom.
Galls are fascinating and gruesome at the same time. They do captivate me so: I wonder what the tine wasps look like?
July 14th – I never lose sight of how lush and green a summer is – even a dry one like this has so far been. From a familiar vantage point at Catshill Junction I can see that everything from gardens to towpaths, Clayanger Common to the thickets and roadbeds are lovely, variant shades of green.
The shades and hues change from fresh to weathered over the season, before turning more golden at the end of the summer, but are always so, so beautiful.
Cycling, and being outdoors in winter generally, makes you appreciate this so much.
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