#365daysofbiking Welcome snowflakes

April 4th – A break in the rain, and I made a dash for it, mostly avoiding getting too wet, but oh my goodness it was cold.

Not cold enough for snow, though.

Warm enough for spring snowflakes, as I found this clump growing and flowering beautifully at Sandhills. Gorgeous white flowers with delicate green tipped petals, snowflakes look a lot like snowdrops, but are bigger and bushier and flower later.

A real treat on an awful day.

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March 12th – I felt awful. Really bad, as if I had the mother and father of hangovers. I’d not had alcohol, and it could have been an MSG thing, but I was dehydrated and groggy. But I had to go out.

I called in at Shire Oak Park to check the frog pools to see if they’d mated there yet – if caught at the right time, that place is like toad soup but today, it was devoid of amphibia – but a heathy patch of spawn in each attested to the frog’s presence at some point.

I was interested in the difference in the frogspawn. I know that frogs produce globular ‘clumps’, and toads ribbons, but the frogspawn seemed to vary from the huge ones in my hand to tiny eggs the size of a small blackcurrant. I wonder why that is? Age and health of the female? Different types of frog?

Never noticed the variety in this stuff before.

May 12th – It was such a gorgeous evening I couldn’t resist going for a spin around the lanes of Stonnall. Everything was suffused in a gorgeous golden light, and the countryside is looking wonderfully green and mellow at the moment. 

At Fighting Cocks, the dandelion meadow is just wonderful. It would be nice if this weather could stay awhile.

February 14th – A day spent sleeping, relaxing, and catching up. I had business in Stonnall in the evening, so nipped down there. Progress was slow. I was still tired.

On the Chester Road just past the houses – at the spot once colloquially referred to as ‘death mile’ or ‘mad mile’ after so many accidents – new speed restriction signs have appeared. ‘Please drive carefully’. I’ve never understood this rubbish, personally. 

(Death Mile became much, much safer after the road was modified in the 1990s.)

For starters, much of the traffic passing will be too fast to read anything other than the restriction; and secondly, who the hell decides to drive with wicked abandon only to later correct their behaviour because some quango or councillor decided to ask them to drive nicely in 180-point Helvetica Black?

There is something interesting here, though. That sign didn’t originally say Shire Oak; that legend has been added on a foil applied over other text, which could possibly say ‘Brownhills’, but I can’t decide. 

Are the folk on the Hill too posh and are now pushing for independence? In these straitened days, does anyone really care that much? And before the whinging starts, Shire Oak is indeed in the parish of Brownhills. 

September 23rd – Labouring up Shire Oak Hill at Sandhills, a familiar crunch crackles under my tyres. The beech mast is thick this year, and it’s been a good year for beech nuts.

The husks are hard, prickly and dry as old bones; the little brown nuts shiny and hard. Some years, the nuts are fatter and more oily than others, and this is part of the growing cycle of the tree, not a factor of the weather. Edible but harsh, they were used as a substitute for coffee in wartime and gave their name to a chewing gum.

I collect a few, split them open with a pocket blade, and suck out the kernel, and chew them determinedly for the remainder of my journey. 

A palatable taste, not unlike a slightly sharp hazelnut. But it’s hard work to get a decent mouthful!

July 10th – Mission complete. It’s been a hard few days working on a rush job, and I finally handed it on now, and the crisis has passed. I returned home via Stonnall in the late evening light, almost too tired to cycle up Shire Oak Hill.

Cresting this hill – always, always hard work from any direction – is a personal nemesis and when tired, it’s punishing. But once at the top, it’s pretty much a freewheel downhill to food, rest, a good cup of tea and the welcome of family.

It’s over, for now. A great relief.

July 7th – Working late, I returned at sundown and winched my way up Shire Oak Hill from Sandhills. I noticed that lots of trees along here are laden with developing fruits – beach nuts, acorns, pine cones and these, unusually abundant sycamore seeds, or ‘helicopters’ as we used to call them as kids.

They seem to be already ripening – but this is only just the beginning of July. 

Am I imagining it, or are we heading for an early autumn?

June 27th – A hard day and an awful journey home for the last commute of the week. The trains were a mess and I came back from Four Oaks against a grinding headwind with little left in my reserve tanks. I was knackered.

Re-armed with the camera, I spied this field of high-quality, nicely ripening barley at the foot of Castle Hill. It’s a lovely crop, with plump, large grain and will make fine malt.

I love the satin sheen of an undulating crop of barley, as it bobs in the wind. It’s one of the great seasonal sights of the English countryside.