September 16th – I was being watched at Catshill Junction.
My observer was reluctant to make himself known.
The small, black and white cat, barely out of kitten hood, was studying me closely from over the narrows. I was clearly not to be trusted. Monitoring the neighbourhood is a very grave task.
I look forward to making his acquaintance again.
September 16th – A frustrating daytime of delays and faffing before a decent night out with family. I was in Walsall getting – of all things – parts for the car. In Ablewell Street, I stopped and looked at a sign I’d passed many times, and always amuses me.
I know it’s an organisation (and a worthy one at that) but the sign is almost random in it’s minimalism and in context of such a busy urban place, perfectly pitched.
I love it. I needed breathing space, so I took five minutes and thought about the serendipity of the sign.
September 14th – Further on, still nestling in green, the countryside of Stonnall is beautiful. The harvest is largely over, with just maize and potatoes left in the fields, and the machinery one now sees in the lanes is for ploughing, harrowing and seeding. Near Stonnall itself, the oilseed rape fields are already growing a new crop.
And so, the seasonal wheel turns. As the cold, darkness and winter come on, these fields will slumber until reawakening in spring. It’s all part of the cycle, and the cycle is round.
It’s not been a bad summer. Just wish it had been longer…
September 14th – A real sign of autumn, my first conker finds of the season, and this year it looks like there’s a large, voluminous crop waiting to fall to earth.
This tree, spotted in the backlanes of Stonnall was laden, and the fruit fresh from the husk as beautiful and shiny as ever one could wish, despite the tree being hard-hit by leaf miner.
Like most men, there is an inbuilt genetic urge to collect fallen conkers and I still can’t pass them in the road without popping a few in my pocket.
September 13th – Also falling from trees now and altogether less of a hazard are the knopper galls, the genetically mutated acorn-cum-insect-cocoons that are bastardised from the normal oak fruit by the knopper wasp.
These seemingly dead, spent galls will most likely have larva inside them and they will overwinter in the fallen galls before boring their way out in spring – although those dropping in vulnerable positions like these on the footpath will be lost under feet, cycle tyres and to the wind and elements.
It’s not until you think about it you realise what a high rate of attrition there is with such things – just how many larva are lost and how this must affect the fecundity of the knopper wasp as a species.
Remarkable how they survive at all.
September 13th – Spotted on the footpath on a Wednesury industrial estate, these giant pine cones. Weighing in I’d guess at half a pound in weight, they’re actually quite sharp and abrasive and I’d not want one to land on my head as it fell from the tree.
Remarkable things, and lots of them; like conkers, at this time of year falling harvests can be the only decent reason to wear a helmet…
September 12th – Remember that traffic island planted with wildflowers I found in Tipton way back in the summer? I passed it again today in the sunshine and it’s still very, very beautiful.
Although the huge mass of flowers is gone now, there are still plenty of diverse, beautiful and understated blooms attracting bees and bugs. And it still gladdens the heart.
When people tell you we live in a dreary, ugly, industrial place, think of this, and smile.
September 11th – I had promised no more wasp galls. Sorry, just one more I missed.
I’ve been looking at this type of gall for ages and not realised what they are – a small, coffee-bean sized growth, caused by genetic mutation provoked by an injected tiny wasp’s egg. These small, rough galls are tiny compared to the more familiar marble oak galls which are smoother and rounder.
They function in the same way though, as a growth pod and foot source for the wasp larva that hatches within, and when ready, the wasp will eat it’s way out to freedom.
This poor tree at Darlaston had knapper galls, marble galls, common galls and cola nut galls. And plenty of acorns!
September 10th – A cat on the patch I’d not seen before. It was chasing insects on the canal towpath by the smallholding at Newtown, and was embarrassed I disturbed a playful half hour. This jet black cat in lovely condition retreated to a nearby fence to glare at me and and like I hadn’t caught it being silly.
I love the way cats have such a well developed sense of self awareness.
September 10th – A miserable, wet and grey day with high winds kept me hemmed in until late afternoon, when despite being caught by a couple of heavy squalls, the skies cleared and the sun came out for a while.
I contented myself with a loop of Brownhills and Chasewater and explored some things I’d been meaning to check out for a while, and it wasn’t a bad, but chilly and damp ride.
Some of the views – when the sun caught the spray and the rain sparkled in the light – were gorgeous.
It seems the Indian summer I was hoper for is not to be this year.
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