chronicles

By now it was nearly the end of the summer term. The young adults who had been on exam leave were back to start their next year; the sixth year (containing an inordinate number of princesses) had had their leaving breakfast; the primary sevens, and their owners, had been to visit; and my journal was now an established thing. Well, established in the sense that some people were reading it and nobody had told me to stop.

I had worried that I wouldn’t have enougth material to write about — after all my main contact with nature was walking along the canal to and from work, and messing about in the playground. As it turned out I was never lacking for something to write about.

bees

I was starting to do the playground when I became aware that there were a lot of Bees about. Rather more Bees than I was comfortable with. It took me about thirty seconds to realize that we were dealing with a swarm. Is there a beekeeper in the house? Yes. Two actually.

Dave and Steve were soon suited up and in action with their smokers, brushes and boxes. By now quite a crowd had gathered, like me nobody had seen a swarm before. They had questions. The problem was that the two people most fitted to provide answers to these questions were the ones dealing with the bees. I knew a wee bit but I was keen to get close to the action.

What seemed like soon to me, but must have seemed an age to Dave and Steve, the Bees were safely in their box and we could all relax. The fun seemed to be over. What I didn’t know was that a hive may contain more than one new queen cell…

I found that out later when just about everyone else had disappeared. Yes that’s right, another swarm. Fortunately Bruce was still there with the telephone numbers. He got hold of Steve, who got hold of another beekeeper.

This redoubtable lady was soon onsite, shovelling bees into a box, all the while enlightening curious passers by (and me) as to the vageries of the bee. It was all very reassuring.

Thankfully that was the last bee action. It could have been worse— Morningside seems to have ordered wasps. (Although they got Bees I assume — Wasps don’t swarm.)

creepy crawlies

Our Nettle-lands are a-wriggle with invertebrate life. Now strictly speaking the picture above is of some nettles by the canal — but that’s just because that was the best picture. There are beasties a-plenty in our nettle-lands. They are alive with beetles, Ladybirds and all the things that crawl in the day. The Nettles themselves are disfigured with Cuckoo spit and brightly-coloured pustules which speak of creatures to come. I haven’t seen many of the flying variety of beasty yet. Hopefully these should be appearing soon.

Talking of insects, I’ve seen a couple of Hoverflies and the odd fat Bee on our sundeck; I’ve decided to call it that in the same spirit that Greenland was named. I had hoped that the sundeck would be flowering for the end of term barbeque. I’m now doubtful. There are a few plants showing ready but mostly it’s just a sea of green.

I suppose that we could have a harvest thanks giving there. Picture it — Friday evening, eating HFT-made honey cakes and drinking stoups of school-mead as the sun sets over (our still-incomplete) extension. Drama could provide us with some experimental dancers and the Princes’s trust could dispense chilled expressos for those who have to drive home. Sounds good, no?

heading home…

I’ve been on backshift this week. Which has meant that I got to wander home in the evenings serenaded by the Blackbirds perched, every hundred or so yards, on trees or chimneys. Nearer Harrison park there was a song thrush, singing the same type of tune, only much more melodic than the aggressive trills of the Blackbirds. At this time of the evening the Swifts have come down to chase each other up against the buildings. That’s what it looks like anyway. I’m sure that it’s just because that’s where the insects are.

One night I saw a Rat on the towpath that looked a bit wrong. It scuttled into the rushes, so I went to investigate and was rewarded with the distinctive plop of a Water Vole entering the water. My first in a couple of years. This may have been a lie. Rats are endemic along the canal, and hence in the playground. We dealt with them by putting down masses of poison at the end of the summer. But I can see myself pretending to people that they were Water Voles so that I didn’t have to suffer earache about the rats. Although I have seen, and heard, Water Voles along the canal.

There always seemed to be something new to see — one night a whole host of Forget-me-Nots appeared, as if from nowhere. Today as I made my way into work they were nearly gone. Summer seems to be an ephemeral season.

morning

For… reasons, I’ve had the pleasure of a commute both in the early morning and in the evening this week. And until this morning I would have said that the Irises were the standout, I’ve never seen them look as stunning. What changed this morning? Well I was treated to the sight of a young couple, in the throes of first love I assume, crawling, in all their scud-bare-nakedness, out of the canal after enjoying a bonding morning dip. From a distance this looked odd. I thought that I was witnessing the birth of some magical new creature unknown to science.

There are four stands of Iris between here and Harrison park. The white flowers are Wild Carrot and the wee blue flowers are Speedwell (I think) and in-between there is Water Mint. Also there although not flowering yet are some Rosebay Willow Herb. Once not very common, Orwell asks about them in one of his As I Please pieces for the Tribune during the war. He also mentioned that it was a strong intoxicant, perhaps the young couple had been trying it? The war is our clue to it becoming common — it thrived on bomb sites. So Hitler’s herb then?

canal festival

Today it was the canal festival. The canal thronged with every type of human and their dogs. There seemed to be something for everyone: music, stalls, food, a raft race, marshal arts and although I didn’t see one there must have been a bouncy castle somewhere. There always is.

The music was – eclectic? There was a loon under the bridge by the school playing a flute pied-piper fashion, another man was sitting in a silver punt playing the cello and there was what seemed to be a string quartet on a barge by the Church. Although they weren’t playing when I went past so I can’t be sure that they weren’t just pretending to be musicians.

Our barristas were on hand. One had even commuted from Meggetland by canoe. I was promised an espresso but they were so busy that I missed out. I suppose that I should be happy that they did such good business.

Being on duty I missed the raft race but there were more than enough craft on the water to stage the next Dunkirk. And a big plus was that for once there were no bikes on the towpath.

My journey home certainly wasn’t boring.

hawkmoth

I was just past the Polwarth bridge heading school wards when I heard a papery fluttering and saw a bruiser of a butterfly on the Valerian that tops the walls thereabouts. It was a Hawk moth , a Humming-Bird one I think. I’ve never seen one before, they’re really impressive; a big part of the reason is that, unlike most Moths/Butterflies, they crash around and make a noticeable amount of noise. I’m going to take it as a good indicator of the growing bio-diversity of the area. Even if it’s probably not.

Every so often when you walk along the canal you get a day with just the right combination of sunlight, cloud-cover and water clarity (the phase of the moon might matter too) where the water is totally clear and you can see into fish world. Over the years I’ve seen everything from Minnows all the way up to a stonking great Pike. This time all I saw were a few twisted bits of metal that had been rejected by the magnet-fishers in their never ending quest for weapons and unexploded bombs. Sometimes that’s the way it is.

and so…

The summer term came to a close. The young adults were packed off to do whatever it is that they do during the summer and the staff had their end of term barbecue. The sundeck, alas, was not in flower, but a few people braved the elements to have their lunch outside in the sun and wind.

I don’t belong at social events. If I have to I do them, but I really don’t enjoy them much. I usually pop into the barbecue, after the meat has been consumed, for a while though. It was made clear to me that my journal was now an established thing, one which I was responsible for continuing.