We have reached an officially measured total of 21.2kg/46.6 pounds of harvested plums. This is the all-time record haul since it started bearing fruit about fourteen years ago (we forget exactly). I think the insects can have their fill now, I’m feeling plummed out.
How unexpected, I thought, as I saw this rose poking up, alone, from the undergrowth at the edge of the Memorial Garden. Then I saw it was not a rose. Plastic bag? A couple of bright red serviettes from one of the local eateries? To be honest I didn’t check. I took a photograph of it though.
A healthily-stocked larder, at least, if you are a spider. It’s like our plums — you keep them for later. Bridge no. 17 is the one at Black Pit Lock on the Rochdale Canal, in Hebden Bridge town centre.
I did follow England’s efforts in this morning’s World Cup Final, but I didn’t go watch it anywhere organised, I don’t like watching football on the TV whomever is playing. But they lost, so in lieu of pictures of any celebrations, here is an indication that August might finally be giving summer a go. I don’t know what these flowers are, sorry, but there are plenty of them blooming down by the market at the moment.
The insect was after the nectar. The flower wants its pollen moving on. I wanted the blackberries, the seeds of which will in turn be distributed. We all get something out of the transaction.
A bit more sunlight today — hardly high summer though. Heatwaves are just something other people are having. The buddleia seem happy, however, and there were plenty of butterflies around in the garden this afternoon.
Back in 2012, in the Lake District, I pictured a vague blob in the far distance that may or may not have been a golden eagle. But this one is definite. You may, of course, live in a part of the world where these noble creatures hang out on street corners, but that’s not the case in Great Britain — except, it seems, in the far north of Scotland, where this huge bird took off from some trees nearby as I passed and flapped lazily overhead for a while. Until uploading the pic later and checking the details I wasn’t sure of the species, but the wingtip feathers are the giveaway: an eagle it is.
Rogie Falls, near Strathpeffer, are touted as a place where one can see salmon travelling upstream to spawn and doing their leaps: but I must admit on first sight, I was sceptical. These were not minor rapids but a powerful cascade, thundering over several drops, of which the highest one, pictured here, must have been at least twenty or thirty feet high. Surely no living creature could possibly get up this, against the flow — particularly not one without arms, legs or heavy machinery.
Well, I was wrong. And I have to say that I now have a new-found respect for this species. There have to be easier ways to live out one’s lifecycle, though.
What better things are there to do on a Saturday than watch some footie? The dog may or may not agree but it looks interested enough. Taken at Penicuik Athletic FC, and Penicuik, just south of Edinburgh, thereby becomes the 435th different place to feature on here; expect a few more new locations to turn up over the next week…
The yellow plastic ashtray sat on the outdoor pub table seemed to be where it was all happening this afternoon. I helped the first one, the top one here, get out, only to see it then return of its own accord; it was then joined by the second. So I left them to it.
Being 42 