Is this the return of the much-seen Hebden Water heron that I call “Humph” (e.g., this shot)? Maybe, maybe not, but either way this was a much-needed piece of interest in another dull day.
According to my diary today was the ‘first day of autumn’, but although it was rather windy, summer seems to still be with us for now. I liked this tree for its two-pronged appearance, like a couple of arms reaching out over the path, in the woods near Mytholmroyd.
This beauty — I have given up trying to identify specific species, I always get it wrong (I thought it was a Red Admiral, but apparently not) — was perched not two feet from the traffic on the Keighley Road this morning. Obviously it wanted its close-ups doing.
Also, a curiosity — this is, almost certainly, the first picture of all the thousands on this blog that I have rotated through 180º. Technically you are looking at this upside down.
A couple of thousand feet up a Scottish mountain (Mount Battock), populated almost entirely by grouse. There were no other people, which meant that the grouse were somewhat surprised to see me. And this beetle was crossing my path regardless of my own intentions, with this determined look on its little insect face. “You’re in my way — move, now.”
Emboldened by the appearance of its fellow moth five weeks ago, this one flew over and demanded I did its close-ups. The plums in the background prove that the tree has eventually borne fruit, despite half of it giving up the ghost.
Unless I’ve miscounted — but you can’t prove this, so might as well take my word for it — this is the 1,499th picture on this blog to be taken in Hebden Bridge. Number 1,500 will be along before the week is out.
Further proof, if proof was needed (see also this shot) that the provision of fake owls throughout the country has not only failed to deter other birds, but that they may in fact encourage other avian life in attempts to befriend them. Jay the gull admires Bob’s taciturnity as they keep an eye on the pickings available from the local fishing fleet.
Despite the propping up (an action which probably saved most of the remainder), half our plum tree has given up the ghost; the weight of the fruit was too much. So today I had a great many green plums to process. It was the fate of these ones to end up in a demijohn with sugar and vodka. Apparently, in a year, we’ll have slivovitz. Or, I’ll forget about them, stashed in the closet as they now are, and our descendants will rediscover them in forty years, playing host to entire new ecosystems.
The 2020-21 academic year has been buggered about with, and broken, and (for me) unusually extended — but as of this afternoon, at about 3pm, it is OVER. I am on holiday. Could say ‘feels good’. The reality — more like this.
Our latest chilli plant. It was Clare who christened it ‘Tuco’, after Tuco Salamanca, the ridiculously fiery Mexican in the first couple of seasons of Breaking Bad. Only we have already eaten one of the three fruits it has produced so far, and it turned out to be very mild, so perhaps it’s misnamed. We should call it Jesse Pinkman instead, perhaps.
You wait ages for a small insect and then two turn up in consecutive days. This fly hung around for a while; clearly it has an interest in Ted Nelson’s Literary Machines this afternoon. As did I.
