February 2023

I love this time of year. The energy stirring underfoot, snowdrops and daffodils out in full force, birdsong increasing, the tunes changing and light coming back into our lives. Time to celebrate Imbolc, the first of the Spring Festivals in 'The Wheel of The Year'. One of the many pre-Christian festivals of the ancient Celtic calendar, in which Time was seen as cyclical and connected to solar and astronomical events. Imbolc was the start of the agricultural year with the awakening of the natural world. It celebrated Brigid, the Goddess of Fire, Blacksmiths, Wells, Healing and Poets. Brigid was also linked to Motherhood, Fertility and Abundance, this was one busy woman! Imbolc means, 'in the belly' or 'in milk', referencing the time when food was starting to grow and livestock were starting to birth. This is why I love February, all of nature is on the move and a change is in the air.

It has been a dry month in the South West and apart from a brief moment of bitter cold at the end of February, it has been mild and sunny. In the North of England and in Scotland, the weather has been less kind. Winds of 80 miles per hour howled around their lands and caused a fair bit of havoc. Here, the winds beat the hedges for a couple of days and then left. The young saplings survived but they are all taking on the familiar lop sided shape of Cornish trees and hedges, blown and sculpted by the prevailing Westerlies.

We have been lucky with the hedging plants, all but two of the fifty have survived, every one of them sporting new buds. By some miracle the rabbits have given them a miss but that can change overnight - the fencing will need to be reinforced. We have planted several trees this month and created a new soft fruit growing area. There are more to go in and another fifty mixed hedging plants. I have made a good start on mulching all the trees in the small copse. I have been using the woodchip heap which is over three years old and has turned into a rich, crumbly compost. Walking around the field I found three of the self seeded oaks alive and looking strong. Sadly, there is an excellent specimen of Oak growing beautifully about six inches from the back wall of the house. It stands over three foot high and has been growing in secret, completely disguised in an overgrown area which we have yet to clear. I say sadly because we are going to have to move it, I hope we can replant it somewhere else but the closeness to the house will make it difficult to remove without any damage to the Oak. That's a two person job for next month. Procrastination - always handy when an awkward job needs to be done.

The one tree we have never planted here is the Buddleia but they grow all over the place, coming out of old stone walls, hanging from the barn roof and several small ones have emerged in the orchard and in the copse. It is not native to Britain but was introduced from China sometime in the 1890s. It is now a familiar sight along the railway cuttings and on any waste ground. It was called the Bombsite plant because it was the first plant to grow where the bombs had fallen in London during the Blitz. It is excellent at breaking up concrete and rubble and has become widely naturalised.

Does it matter that it is not native to this land? As always, this is an ongoing debate. The anti-Buddleia league, (which includes the RSPB) want us to stop planting this species. They refer to it as invasive and a weed, which pushes out the native plants and then alters all the local eco systems. The BBC wildlife is part of the pro-Buddleia lobby, 'the plant is only a problem when it's in the wrong place...in the right place its nectar attracts insects, which in turn attracts birds and bats, and the shrub's dense thickets provide cover for foxes and badgers' (BBC 2014), thereby contributing to building up local eco systems. At the moment I'm favouring the BBC. The Buddleias serve as a useful, fast growing windbreak, offering some refuge for the young trees, if they break it doesn't matter, they grow happily alongside anything and everything, (as far as I can tell) and they host showers of butterflies in the Summer and early Autumn. That's good enough to earn them a residency out in the field.

There's been a lot of activity going on in the field this month. Wandering around in the evening I can hear birdsong from all corners; down in the woods, along the riverbank, in the hedges and even on the telegraph wires at the top of the hill. As evening progresses the doves continue to coo and ducks can be heard in the distance. In the morning the woodpeckers are busy drumming - different beats and sounds from each bird. And after the usual morning singsong and feeding session, there has been a noticeable increase in activity as their nest building season starts. And to top it all, the occasional Bumblebee has been sighted, looking for spots in which to start a hive. The burst of growth and activity and sporadic moments of warmth, are reminders and a promise to us of what is to come.