We were lulled into false dreams of hot, sunny days after May's sweet offerings but alas June was colder than average and all the fruit and vegetables suffered, as did the humans. Last year, in complete contrast, the same month was the hottest June since records began at some time in the late 1800s. A few hot spells arrived towards the end of the month, interwoven with many brief and scattered showers.
Buzzards have been crying and flying almost continuously throughout the month. Lots of them. It is such a plaintiff cry, it does suggest that they are in trouble but apart from the odd moment of mobbing from the Rooks, (or is it Crows ? - not quite sure how to tell the difference when they are in the sky), they always seem content to float around on the airstreams above the house and field. In addition to these birds of prey, the Swallows have been busy in the barn rearing their young. They get a bit cross whenever a human has the audacity to use the barn and they flit around from side to side and make a lot of noise. I went in to retrieve some buckets and had a distinct feeling that I was being watched, I turned to find four young swallows all perched on the weights bar staring at me. It's supposed to be some sort of a home 'gym', (not for me I hasten to add), but I suspect that's the most use it's had in months. The Robin chicks have now all flown the nest.
And out in the field, Docks, Nettles and Thistles have all put in a poor show, their numbers much reduced, as is their height. In previous years we had been sorely tempted to interfere with nature's plans, as we watched these plants dominate more and more of the land. We worried, and at various times it has looked a total mess. Even though we live in the middle of nowhere and don't really have neighbours, a couple of remarks regarding the state of the field have found their way back to us. I've no wish to upset anybody whose land borders our field, but I am glad we remained as observers and have been able to witness what nature does on its own. And this year it brought great swathes of Hogweed and Ragwort. By the end of the month the Hogweed had already started to lose its green colour and was drying out and becoming brittle. They grow up to 2 metres tall and have a strong robust presence that gives a lot of shape and structure when it grows in and around the garden and orchard. I like them, even though, 'the flowers smell unpleasantly 'farmyardy' - which may be where the name hogweed comes from, though it may also be because pigs would eat the foliage and roots'. (gallowaywildfoods.com). Although there is a lot of information available as to how to get rid of Hogweed, it is a frequent sight all around this area and nobody seems particularly incensed by it. However Ragwort is a different story and there are strong arguements for and against this plant.
It is a well known poison to cows and horses and there are laws to obey with regard to the growing of Ragwort and any proximity to these animals. It is in the cutting for hay that the greatest risk is posed and it is illegal to fail to remove it. However, 'it is one of the most frequently visited flowers by butterflies in the UK and more than 200 species of invertebrates have been recorded on it', (wildlifetrust.org). In addition to this, it is the major source of nectar for 30 species of solitary bees, 18 species of wasps and 40 species of nocturnal moths. When I come across a colony of the bright yellow flowers, it is always alive with flying insects and so, for the moment, the Ragwort gets a home with us, and alongside John Clare (the poet), I will continue to enjoy its presence.
Ragwort, thou humble flower with tattered leaves
I love to see thee come & litter gold,
What time the summer binds her russet sheaves;
Decking rude spots in beauties manifold,
That without thee were dreary to behold,
Sunburnt and bare– the meadow bank, the baulk
That leads a wagon-way through mellow fields,
Rich with the tints that harvest’s plenty yields,
Browns of all hues; and everywhere I walk
Thy waste of shining blossoms richly shields
The sun tanned sward in splendid hues that burn
So bright & glaring that the very light
Of the rich sunshine doth to paleness turn
& seems but very shadows in thy sight.
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