APRIL - "An altered look about the hills..."

An altered look about the hills;

A Tyrian light the village fills;

A wider sunrise in the dawn;

A deeper twilight on the lawn;

A print of a vermilion foot;

A purple finger on the slope;

A flippant fly upon the pane;

A spider at his trade again;

An added strut in chanticleer;

A flower expected everywhere;

An axe shrill singing in the woods;

Fern-odors on untravelled roads, —

All this, and more I cannot tell,

A furtive look you know as well,

And Nicodemus' mystery

Receives its annual reply.

APRIL by Emily Dickinson

Over the wall, a mother cow sits on the frosty grass beside her newborn, with the sun freshly-risen and a thin veil of milky-morning rolling back towards the hillside across the valley. There are sheep grazing the cold grass and the birds are calling one to the other, performing that annual operetta we know as Springtime. As I stand outside the kitchen and soak this in, the pheasant, with its discordant croaking, brings me to my senses. This pastoral scene is not solely for my pleasure! It's all about survival. I'm cold now - it's 0°C on the monitor - but I can step back inside and make myself a pot of tea to warm me up. The world outside has purpose - and its purpose is survival.

Spring has definitely sprung in this northern hemisphere and there will be many more springtimes. But how will they pan out?

It's only by seeing the struggle for survival and meeting it head on, with sympathy and understanding, that we can call ourselves nature-lovers.

MOTHER AND BABY UNIT

The first day of April dawned with a furry caterpillar reminding me that Spring was just beginning - as yet in its larval stage - the second phase after the snowdrops! 

I always think that "snowdrops" is a joining word which links Winter and Spring. Little dots of whiteness, signifying days with more sunlight, pepper the ground where they will grow and spread.

I remember carpets of them - in churchyards, managed woodlands and where people have planted their gardens with them. Two significant snowdrop memories for me are those which grew amongst the trees in the old vicarage garden in Belton-in-Axholme, Lincolnshire; and the milky-white bells which cover the high bank on Bank Row in Wick, Caithness. Wick was attacked six times during World War Two and the Bank Row Bombing (1st July, 1940) killed fifteen people, eight of them children playing in the street. I think the high bank of trees with its snowdrops and, later, daffodils, is a beautiful living tribute to them all.

Throughout April, the number of furry caterpillars has increased - maybe there will be a caterpillar revolution. Let's give them a chance shall we? Much of the world, but not all,  seems to be governed by a variety of low-life at present!

The first night of April was a moonlit reminder that, looking up at the stars as they made shapes in the heavens, one can feel, in the pure and simple beauty of everything, close to those who have gone before us. Heavenly magic and a sense of peace for a moment.

Then came the butterflies! There has been much excitement as peacock butterflies and tortoiseshells showed themselves after the winter months. I saw, a couple of days ago, a small white butterfly which I was unable to identify - there seem to be so many different white ones! 

PEACOCK AND TORTOISESHELL

Our April weather has been almost unbelievably good! I remember some very cold Aprils - snow too! Driving between Greengate, Epworth and Scunthorpe one day in the seventies, the fields around me were all snow covered. On the return journey, the snow had completely gone and some areas were actually steaming in the warm sunshine! 

But this April is amazing because of the ongoing fair weather. Last night (27th/28th) it rained - it was so welcome here. The garden had become very dry and the hosepipe has already been put into action. I sowed my wildflower seeds yesterday - and soaked them well - but it would be the overnight rain which did them the most good - especially as it remains relatively warm to trigger germination. 

Early in April, Ginny Judith and Clemency all had a hand in harvesting some of the flowers on the south-facing flowering currant hedge down the hill. Then Clemency made cordial with them. It was mind-blowingly delicious! It kept well too - but, sadly, now it's all gone. To me it tasted like a dreamy blend of blackcurrant and raspberry. More next year please Clem!

HARVESTING THE FLOWERING CURRANT HEDGE

Across the little road, the dog rose hedge is quickening and there are clouds of pollen dust coming from the willows on our driveway here. The bees are everywhere! There have been moments when I felt surrounded and encircled by them - perhaps I should be more wary - but I love being a part of their world and, so far, they seem to enjoy my company. 

When the Easter Holiday began, Ginny, Judith and Clemency walked from home, down to the River Forss in the valley, and all along its banks until they reached the Atlantic Ocean.

GORSE ON THE RIVER WALK,TAKEN FROM THE OLD BRIDGE

STONEFLY LARVA SPOTTED IN THE RIVER SHALLOWS

I don't go down to the sea half-enough nowadays. I've always loved it and I'm grateful that I have been able to live so close for so long - in two Orkney homes and two Caithness homes. We were shopping in Thurso one day last week when the smell of the sea came to me so strongly that it reminded me of when I was young and my paternal  grandparents would come with us on seaside trips. As soon as we got out of the car, Granny Ivy would inhale deeply and immediately forget her travel-sickness. I didn't know it  then, but her ancestors were coastal people - her great grandfather ( an early coastguard ) being a bit of a hero in altercations with smugglers! I have to confess - I might have looked the other way!!!

OUR LITTLE POOL - THE NORTH ATLANTIC

Back to our stunning, unspoilt Caithness coast - at the end of their walk, Ginny, Judith and Clemency felt accomplished and they acknowledged how fortunate we are to be able to walk there from our home on the hill.

THE OLD (UNUSED) BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER FORSS

While they were doing that - with only trail mix and water for sustenance!!! - I was planting things and doing basic gardening. Removing the alkanet, which had seemed very pretty at first but which, later, started to choke everything else - was tricky - it took much longer than I expected! 

The positive weather has meant that I've been able to keep up with my part of the gardening - mostly in the cottage garden - staking, cutting back dead stems, weeding, replanting etc..

While this was going on here at Stempster, a heath fire was raging near Thurso. It was controlled - or so they thought - but continued to burn underground. This is an accepted danger with heath fires - and a very big worry for local inhabitants because the fire can suddenly appear almost anywhere.

The main lawn had its first haircut on the 12th but I cut the grass in the cottage garden a week later - on the 19th. And now the grass is growing very quickly after the rain!

NEW GREEN LABURNUM TRUSSES OVER THE LAWN

Each year, I like to try growing something I've never grown before. Last year I tried growing purslane in solidarity with Palestinians who have long harvested it from their gardens and from the waysides in their homeland. I had the naive notion that, if I too could harvest mine, the killing would end. Mine just disappeared. But my hope doesn't disappear. I have bought more seeds this year and this time I'm growing them under a glass dome. I'm going to try Palestinian Romanya - lentils, egg plant, pomegranate and purslane. Getting Keith to sow the aubergine (egg plant) seeds I gave him at Christmas may take a little persuasion - a nudge in the right direction!

My new thing this year is angelica. Dot and I struggle to identify it amongst the multitudinous umbelliferae which grow all around us in Caithness. That being the case, I decided to buy a small pot for each of us to grow in our own gardens. It can grow quite tall so I've put mine to the back of the border. I'll let you know!

Here, in West Caithness, Clemency planted her potatoes on Good Friday - traditionally the day for planting potatoes. In my native Lincolnshire, in the year 1895, George North "planted five Daniels potatoes". This was on Good Friday, 12th April. I looked up Daniels potatoes as it's not a type I recognise. The AI overview is as follows -

"Daniel's potatoes" can refer to several variations of potatoes prepared according to the dietary restrictions of the Daniel Fast, a temporary religious dietary practice in some Christian traditions. These often involve baking, roasting, or steaming potatoes without added oils, fats, or dairy, and may be seasoned with herbs and spices 

Reading this reminded me that my father never really liked his potatoes boiled - they were always steamed. I now tend to boil them and steam the other vegetables above them - unless the potatoes are boiled with mint.

Our swallows are back with us again! They were first spotted on Good Friday and have been seen since then in twos and threes. They're my prodigal sons and daughters.  When they go in the autumn, I feel empty and more than a little bit sad - when they come back in the springtime, I take great delight in being able to offer them the fatted midges!

The increase in the number of flying insects also guarantees a spot of bat-watching here. However the bats manage without clipping me as they fly past, I will never understand. I get the sonar/echolocation thing but REALLY? I mean they come SO close!

BURT THE BURLY BUZZARD SCANNING THE FIELD ACROSS THE ROAD

I made up a metal basket of trailing annuals which would flower in creams and pinks - and I lined it with some natural wadding which my daughter wrapped around our Christmas presents when she posted them up to us from North Lincolnshire last year. One of the suggestions for recycling it was to put it around plants in order to deter slugs and snails. Great idea - I thought! The next day I noticed that the great tits and the blue tits were visiting the basket with incredible regularity. Backwards and forwards to the places they had decided would be their respective homes this year. And the sides of the basket were becoming denuded... So I had to put the metal basket into a planter - and I can no longer look forward to seeing its cream and pink shades tumbling from aloft! Ah well!

JESSIE HELPS JUDITH WITH THE GARDENING

On World Curlew Day, Easter Monday, 21st April, we saw Angel Curlews. True! Ginny and I were walking the dogs when we both saw two birds flying like curlews - exactly in the curlew way - but they were too pale to be curlews. We both agreed - they couldn't have been curlews. Then - we heard them - absolutely unmistakable - couldn't possibly have been anything else. We were certain they were curlews - Angel Curlews - the morning light caught them both perfectly. Such a treat for us - then it got even better. We turned to see a high-speed-express-hare pelting the width of the field away from the flowering currant hedge beside us. I spotted a skylark close up too. That was the day the world was bereft of the beautiful compassionate wisdom of Pope Francis. It felt right that we should be in that place on that day - especially as Ginny was given the second name "Frances" because Saint Francis of Assisi and his love of the natural world have always been special to me - and to Pope Francis. May he rest in peace.

The following day I saw a wheatear near our River Forss. I became very attached to them when we lived in Orkney. They never seemed too afraid. I could get an excellent view of them quite close up. They come to us from sub-Saharan Africa and stay for the spring and summer. Quite a journey! Migratory birds never cease to amaze me - from the wee chiffchaff to the imposing osprey.

The field next door is no longer the nursery. The Mother and Baby Group has been moved to the next field - pastures new. At first I missed them all but I can see them when we walk the dogs. The calves grow so quickly on their mothers' milk and the lush grass here. 

Walking the dogs, Orlando, aged eleven, and Jess, aged seven, is not yet without adventure in spite of their maturity. One day this month, Orlando accidentally flushed a duck. He wasn't really interested - but Jessie was! She felt cheated and wanted a piece of the action!! I'm pleased to say that both dogs were outwitted by the duck.

While some lambs are very young, there are many, between here and Thurso, who are making huge strides and looking more like their "fleecy dams" by the day. It will soon be the end of the month and I will need to stop singing "All In The April Evening" at every opportunity. The family smile fondly!!!

There have been many hares here this springtime. On Friday's dog walk we watched six having fun in the ploughed field next to the broch field. They were joined by a seventh, coming in from the broch field and then, on our way home, a single hare sat, watching us fearlessly for a while - before running ahead of us. As we neared our home we saw it crossing the triangular field towards the tiny bridge over the burn.

Clemency saw a strange fly on one of our apple trees. Judith and Ginny saw it on a willow tree, too. We struggled to identify it but someone kindly explained to us that it was impossible to identify due to the fungus which was covering it. It's called a zombie fungus and changes the appearance of whichever fly it attacks. It's found in cool, damp climates in springtime and autumn.

THE FLY COVERED IN ZOMBIE FUNGUS

Yesterday I found a broken wren's egg in the yard. So light and small. Then I spotted a blackbird's large and scruffy nest in the log store. Contrasting aspects of the bird world - perfect delicacy contrasting with careless heavy-duty construction. Spring has it all!

THE WREN'S EGG

A good point in my blog to relate "The Tale of Two Cucumbers". I bought a cucumber plant, not realising there were actually two plants in the one pot. So I decided to grow them separately under two of the three Victorian glass domes which I was given for Christmas. I kept my eye on them and saw that, although one was doing well, the other was very slowly being eaten - as if by a slug. I noticed slug trails going up inside the glass and, the next day, saw the culprit - a miniature slug - miniature but devastating if you're a young cucumber. I removed it to the compost heap where it could gorge itself silly. I then placed some of the Christmas woolly packaging around the damaged plant - knowing that the birds would never be able to steal it from under there. You might think there is a happy ending but, like the tragic yet hopeful execution of Sydney Carton, it left me with mixed feelings. The next morning I went out to check on the cucumber plants. The damaged plant was holding its own. The other glass had slug/snail trails on the inside and the healthy plant had been completely eaten off and whatever had eaten it had left a small part of a leaf on the edge of the covered area. Such cynicism!

As I look out towards the bluebell-backed pond, I can see siskins, chaffinches and sparrows riding the trembling aspen - the tree Judith chose to plant in our first full year here. It was so small then and has since made wonderful progress. You can never be sure how things will go - whether or not they will grow at all - but it's worth believing they will...

Stop Press! Ginny heard the cuckoo at teatime today, 29th April. First Stempster cuckoo of 2025!

When Francis preached love to the birds

They listened, fluttered, throttled up

Into the blue like a flock of words

Released for fun from his holy lips.

Then wheeled back, whirred about his head,

Pirouetted on brothers’ capes.

Danced on the wing, for sheer joy played

And sang, like images took flight.

Which was the best poem Francis made,

His argument true, his tone light.

SAINT FRANCIS AND THE BIRDS by Seamus Heaney