Having eulogised the plums and blackberries already this year — and for good reason — let us also add the glorious amount, and richness, of 2018’s apples as well — not to mention a second good crop of rhubarb. In this aspect, no one can complain about the year.
As well as a profusion of fruit this year does seem to have produced larger-than-usual amounts of fungi. I don’t know what species is this butter-coloured toadstool, but I liked the way one of them had turned up its edges and thus allowed a little pool of water to gather at the top, that then glinted in what sunlight had managed to push through the trees above. Like a little bird-bath in a garden. The fairies gather…
Two days of total indolence are in progress for me, this being the first. I avoided the temptation to present a photo of this afternoon’s football result (Brighton & Hove Albion 3, Manchester United 2 — oh yes oh yes) and so this one will do. The woman in beige maybe regrets encouraging the geese to visit her for a snack.
For the second time on this holiday a seagull demands I do its close-ups. Could I (or it) have asked for better light? We are now on Alderney, a 15-minute flight north of Guernsey on a tiny plane on which we were three of only five passengers. Like Sark, but unlike on Guernsey, the sun shone and there is a palpable feeling of otherness, separateness, on this little isle which the bigger one didn’t really have. Two more days away to come.
We went to LIhou today, a tiny islet that can be reached by a causeway at low tide that has one house, one old ruin, and lots of seabirds. I was taking this one’s portrait when it decided to launch itself from the rock, fortunately I still pressed the shutter, just in case. It only went about ten feet to the right, before landing on another stone, so I think just wanted me to get the action shot.
Each year I have done this a picture has appeared of the blackberry bounty, and that provides a chance to measure its position in the year. They are early this year, probably unsurprisingly, but not as early as 2014. Either way there has been a sudden ripening (blackening) of thousands of them in the last week or so. I went hunter-gathering today. The stump in the background is Heptonstall Church, by the way.
I had another picture all lined up today, one of the continued construction Apocalypse in Manchester. But then in the allotment this evening this robin fluttered over, posed itself attractively and virtually demanded that I did its close-ups and become the second robin in a fortnight to feature on here. He’s certainly a plumper specimen than the ragged one in Morecambe. But how frustrated it might be if it could see the results. That crucial feather out of place…. like the open fly on the wedding photo? Well, maybe not quite so dramatic.
Little is happening in my life at the moment nor will do so for a few weeks yet, so in the absence of much other inspiration it’s helpful when one of the marina’s Muscovy ducks exhibits its natural tendencies to pose for the camera. It’s that innately smiley face that does it. They seem quite happy creatures in their little colony.
A day of such uneventfulness that this was a photowhack — the one and only photo taken on a given day. The pigeon ambassador has come to plead with the Canada geese for aid in their ongoing war against the ducks. A jackdaw spy right front is trying to look inconspicuous, but I think the pigeon knows.
At the lin-laws’. This rather ragged robin, on its third brood of chicks of the year apparently, has decided that the interior of the kitchen, at least, is potential foraging territory and can be tempted into the house with titbits (I did get a picture of it inside, but the lighting was no good on that one). As I’ve said before, robins will do just fine by us in the long run even if other species don’t.
Being 42 