April 21st – Another wonderful spring flower coming into bloom is the oilseed rape in the fields. All across the rural landscape this vivid yellow brassica is turning the landscape yellow.
The smell is wonderful and it’s just started. The fields are alive with bee buzz and birds come for the feasting bugs.
I love the drama and beauty of this curious crop
March 31st -Spotted on Clayhanger Common, a touch of optimism in the gloom: one of my guerrilla seeded patches of cowslips is just coming into flower.
My favourite flowers that I spread the seeds for ten years ago now have returned, and in the middle of a wet Saturday when it seemed the sun will never shine, they appeared to cheer me up.
Spring, right there.
November 25th – On a bright, cold winter day, near the M6 Toll in Great Wyrley, clematis seed heads looking very alien in a forgotten, edge-land thicket.
These fascinate me, as no two have quite the same texture or appearance. I bet these were an absolute riot when they were in flower. I must come here next summer and see.
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.
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.
April 12th – A horrid, wet commute home on a surprisingly cold day was lightened somewhat by the antics of a familiar pair of avian muggers on the towpath near Clayhanger.
I assume the same pair every year take residence on this stretch of canal, and noisily accost anyone passing for tidbits or sheer goosey devilment – honking, head-bobbing and if sufficiently irritated, pecking.
I carry a small bag of seed to distract them while I make good my escape, but I love them really.
There’s not much kindness in your average goose…
June 26th – Cutting across the common, there are plenty of flowers in bloom, and the bees are busy. Blues and purples seem the order of the day, with late forget-me-nots, purple comfrey vetch and others all showing well.
Also rather lovely are the dandelions – not just those flowering, but those gone to seed, too – such lovely, natural engineering.
August 28th – On an early afternoon run home from work, a beautiful patch of thistles gone to seed on Clayhanger Common. Like fellow fluff-mongers Rosebay Willowherb, they fill the air with small, wind-borne seeds often called ‘fairies’ by generations of local kids.
Also good food for small bits who will dine on these to their hearts content.
August 13th – A bit better today, and I’m on the mend, and out and about earlier. Time I note for another periodic explanation…
This isn’t pollution at Catshill Junction, or anywhere else it’s happening. This time the scum film at wind traps and bends on the canal is caused by rose bay willow herb plants, which are currently going to seed and producing oodles of the white fluff.
Just like the sallow earlier in the year, it looks horrid as the chaff and hairy detritus forms a film on the water – but it’ll soon be gone.
Another curious little marker of the passing seasons.
July 27th – It’s the time of year when I dread getting stopped by the police.
The cowslips I loved so much in the spring are now seeding, and I have in my pocket a growing bag of little black seeds, like these. I pluck a seed head or two from each clump (careful to leave enough to seed next year), and collect the wee black dots that shake out.
When I have a decent quantity, I’ll spread a few new patches in barren spots or places that would benefit from a little cowslip love.
These flowers cheer me so much, it’s like repaying my debt to them. I invite you to do the same.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 