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.
A double meaning in the title of today’s post. The good weather continues, that’s the first thing. But it’s also a time in which I am sticking around familiar places for a good long spell. There has always been a steady drip-feed of new locations on the blog. The only previous sustained period without them was spring 2016, broken when we went to Portugal that summer. Football matches in obscure places have kept up the run of new locations in 2017-18 too. But since the season finished at Poulton on May 19th (the last new location) every shot has been from somewhere familiar and this is going to stay the case until well into August.
Still, in such lovely weather — familiarity definitely does not breed contempt. It’s nice to be here.
A random bird shot yes, but point 1) — you really don’t see many jays, generally and point 2) you certainly don’t see many of them within 15 yards of Oxford Road, the A34, in the absolute midst of the UoM campus. Perhaps now and again we do something right.
And point 3). How did jays end up with quite such specific colouring? Who said, evolution-wise — OK, what you guys really need, to successfully reproduce, is that blue-and-white ‘policeman’s helmet’ style band? I’m sure evolution was the agent — really, I’m a Darwinist — but what drove it?
The weather doesn’t show any real signs of getting crappier. Expect hosepipe bans by the end of the month, at this rate. These two jackdaws had found a shady spot to shelter and wonder what the strange human was pointing at them from across the road.
In both 2013 and 2015 our plum tree fruited in ludicrous profusion. In 2015 we were taking bags of fresh plums down to the pub and giving them away, we had too many to use: the tree produced about 45 pounds of fruit (20kg) that year. Not so much in the last couple of years — but looking at it right now, it’ll be a bumper harvest in 2018. As long as the branches can bear the weight.
Our exertions of yesterday finished late enough to make crashing at the in-laws’ desirable. Morecambe was still a fine, sunny place this morning however. These flowers may, or may not, be columbines — the identification is hesitant. I like the one in the centre, though, just opening up, stretching its tentacles like a little octopus. Or pentopus maybe.
Being 42 