The land has been looking a bit lifeless recently but there is plenty of action on the farms, getting the last cut of the year, bringing in the sprouts, the cauliflowers, and the assorted colours of the chard and cabbage. The cold, frosty mornings bring out the slightly musty scent of the edible greens - not always a pleasant smell. In opposition to all the noise and activity of the farming calendar, in our field a quiet is creeping over the hill and the time for hibernation has now arrived. The grasses in the field that have stood proud and strong for so long and fought the ravages of cruel winds and relentless downpours, they are finally saying their goodbyes and laying down to rest.
A mixture of new growth and relics from the summer litter the garden. Winter Jasmine is out in full bloom and a lonesome bud survives on the hollyhock, wondering if it missed the date to bloom. Corn cockles are still upright, frozen solid on some mornings. The perennial Sorrel has shown itself to be of a sturdy nature, it still grows strong and provides foraging material for the salad bowl adding a lemon like kick to the taste. Buzzards can be heard at the edge of the woods but less visible in the skies. Wagtails run up and down the rooftops, wasps still gather getting ever more dozy and the seagulls are busy ranting and raving, screaming at the ploughs as they go about their business tilling the soil. It means there are still earthworms and insects to be eaten but it would be better if the gulls left them in their earthly homes. And underground, quiet and industrious, the moles do not rest. They have been very busy supplying us with mounds of beautifully sifted soil. They don't seem to favour any particular part of the land; they are very democratic about sharing the products of their skill. There are piles of earth everywhere, in the vegetable beds, the field, the herb garden, all along the paths, there is no hierarchy in their choice. Thanks for that.
As the trees lose their leaves and the skeletal structure is left, a world of lichen is revealed. The woods around this area are rich in this half fungus half alga. All over the Lizard glorious shades of silver pinks, earthly greens and slate greys cover the old woods. Lichen is one of those organisms we forget to celebrate but it plays a vital part in all environments. They are able to colonise the most hostile of conditions from the freezing cold valleys of the Antarctica to the blazing hot deserts and can even survive in space. Closer to home, they act as warning signs on the impact of pollution in our environment and have survived for hundreds, possibly thousands of years. Sometimes called 'ecosystem pioneers' as they are the first organisms to colonise surfaces, changing the environmental conditions and allowing other wildlife to establish. Aside from creating new ecosystems they are a valuable food source and home for insects and small invertebrates. As if this wasn't good enough, lichens also capture nitrogen from the atmosphere and secrete it into the soil to be used by plants and other organisms AND it monitors pollution levels in our environment. How did we humans ever get to think we were the clever ones?
We have had the full range of weather visit us this month. There has been a lot of rain and there's a lot of mud underfoot but mild days still linger, the sun still warms us and it is only in the latter days of the month that the temperature becomes more consistently cold. Whatever the weather the evenings are marked by the ducks' flight overhead but not in the famous trio formation celebrated on the walls of my grandmother's front room. They still seem to favour the number three but the flights are taken as solo pursuits, each one wanting a clear route of their own in the sky but all following the same direction. The sound of their call fades into the distance along with the light and signifies the close of day.
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