First Steps Into The New Year

 So this is 2023.....

.....and, believe it or believe it not, this was the very first photo of the year - snowdrops in my local wood. Not the finest bunch of flora to ever grace this blog but certainly the earliest. The rest of the wood will not have any snowdrops for some time, but this little clump that grows right beside the chalk stream is always the first to show.

The rest of my village walk didn't look a lot different from the previous year. I was up early as I'd seen in the New Year from the comfort of my bed.

I remember getting up once as a child to see what all the fuss was about, only to find that nothing of interest happened as one year ticked over into the next (there were no midnight fireworks in those days). All I could report was that some of the grown-ups were giggling more than usual, but, being seven-and-a-half (and sober), I couldn't see the joke.

There's still plenty of mistletoe on this tree, no one being foolhardy enough to risk their neck for a stolen kiss.

I found another leafless "tree" on this fallen tree-trunk, that was rotting away beside the little footbridge on Shepreth L-Moor. I've no idea what caused those patterns, but perhaps some kind of insect that burrowed away beneath the bark.

Despite appearances the Moor (as we call it) is not as waterlogged as it can be at this time of year, which is surprising after all the rain we've had.

A few of the smaller birds are already beginning to sing and new life is springing from the bark of that fallen tree

Yet another section of the same tree-trunk. I keep looking at this picture and finding new patterns hidden away. It's like trying to read the runes to find out what the coming year might hold. 

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But I also have a few photos from an end-of-year walk around Paxton Pits.

A swan was finding some shelter from the wind - but is that willow showing the first signs of Spring colour?

Two male Tufted ducks lingered by the water's edge long enough for me to grab a picture. They are very common ducks in the UK in the winter months, when their numbers are increased as over 100,000 of them fly in from Europe to enjoy our comparatively mild weather.

They don't mind the wind!

Take care.

A Wildlife Calendar For 2023

Usually at this time of year I compile a "calendar" of photos taken during the last year, but with no photos taken between August and November that's not going to work this time. So I've delved back a bit further into the past to present you with pictures of some of the wildlife seen around here.

January

Fallow Deer buck at Holkham

February

Great Spotted Woodpecker at Meldreth

March

Grey Seals at Horsey, N Norfolk

April

Little Egret at Melwood

May

Grey Squirrel, just outside my window

June

Small Tortoiseshell butterfly at Sandy

July

Banded Demoiselle at Lakenheath Fen

August

Very young Moorhens, Wicken Lode

September

Water Vole at Holywell Lake, Amwell

October

Green Sandpiper at RSPB Rye Meads

November

Part of the deer herd at Knebworth

December

And a Robin - at Christmas!

Take care.

Seasonal Surprise

We'd been happily drifting along on the dwindling current of Autumn for many weeks, when suddenly we awoke one morning to a sharp frost coating every surface with a sparkling rime.

I picked up my camera and stole guiltily past working folks who were scraping ice from their windscreens to see what could be found.

Flowers exhibited a certain surprised beauty.

And many more leaves had fallen overnight and now rested on old trees that had long ago succumbed to the inevitable progress of time.

I also took a quick snap of this curious frost-pattern on the wing of one of my neighbours' cars. Apart from making it a bit clearer for you to see I haven't done anything to change its appearance. 

Then next morning...

I looked out and saw there'd been a couple of inches of overnight snow. What used to happen every year has now become something of a rarity in this part of the country. Children of all ages have to make the most of it, so I was up before dawn to explore this wonderland.

The warm light from the spotlights combines prettily with the blue light of pre-dawn to make a nice picture of the village church.

I made my way back through the main street of the village. I used to work at the school just around the corner and recall the excitement of the children on days like this. Many of them were wheelchair-users and I also remember the exasperated look of the woman who cleaned the building as they trundled in and out, leaving trails of dirty snow behind them!

One of the large houses in the village has a permanent display of topiary "Christmas trees" which look even better with a coating of snow.

Another shrub exhibiting sculptural shapes as I made my way to the community woodland.

It was the kind of good sticky snow that clings to every branch.

A flat bridge leads over the little chalk-stream known, rather grandly, as the River Mel. The little gate is the entrance to somebody's garden.

Here's the river itself, reflecting the leaves that still hang on to the branches in this sheltered spot.

I was framing up a shot of the tree which stands beyond a patch of rough ground when I spotted a Buzzard perched on the topmost twig. When I got home I noticed another bird, lower down in the tree, which may well be the other member of the pair. It's quite normal to see a Buzzard around here. 

(The Common Buzzard [Buteo buteo] of the UK and Europe is a bird of prey. Despite its impressive size it mostly feeds on earthworms, beetles and carrion. In Scotland it's jokingly called "the Tourist's Eagle", since visitors are often convinced that they've seen a Golden Eagle nonchalantly sitting at the side of the road).

The path leads on beside the stream.

Now where would that picture appear on a calendar? Winter snow and Autumn foliage.

Three sheep wonder just what's happened overnight, hiding all the grass and leaving them nothing to eat but fallen leaves.

Here's one they've missed.

Time for me to make my way back home for a cup of hot chocolate.

(It's now a couple of days later and the snow is still hanging around; that's something that rarely happens these days. It's supposed to be warming up at the weekend).

Take care.

Foggy On The Gogs

As you've probably noticed this blog has been inactive for the last four months. I've had some health issues which have kept me from venturing out and I've needed a bit of time for myself. Thanks to all those of you who sent best wishes and I apologise for being so negligent about replying to comments. 

So, back to blogging.... if I can remember how to do it...

My brother and I recently went to Wandlebury Country Park in the gentle Gogmagog hills, somewhere we've often walked before. It was a foggy morning and there were very few cars in the car park. Having spent an entertaining few minutes reading instructions and pressing green and yellow buttons on the ticket machine, we finally paid-and-displayed and made our way along the main path. 

Autumn leaves on a quiet, misty morning - even if it is December!

We had the paths to ourselves for most of the morning; obviously the general public does not share my taste for being outside on foggy, winter days.

This cock Pheasant hasn't quite got his full breeding plumage just yet, though he still looks a lot more dapper than me!

This clump of trees always catches my eye and generally makes a nice photo, even when it's barely visible through the mist. The problem I sometimes have with Autumn is that I end up with lots of pictures of trees with golden leaves that are all basically the same - it takes a little effort to seek out other things of interest and make a varied set of photos.

Things like the pile of logs which included what looks to me like the map of an undiscovered island. I have no idea what caused this strange pattern, though it was quite possibly the disease that weakened the tree and led to its toppling over.

OK, we can get back to the golden leaves now! This favourite summertime seat was a bit damp to perch on in December.

A few dog-walkers were using the paths, though many of them prefer the paths just outside the park, where they can let their dogs off the lead - not that you ever see anyone around to enforce the rules.

We were not having much luck spotting the birdlife, so these exotic specimens were a surprise to see. They seemed to recommend the avenue leading towards the old Roman Road.

We took their advice and were rewarded with the scene above. We were probably a few days too late to see the full glory of the beech trees, most of the leaves having fallen in this slightly more exposed spot.

I rather like the effect of seeing leaves and branches picked out against a white sky, though most photographers avoid blank skies at all costs; perhaps they've never seen the huge areas of white left in many ancient Chinese paintings. 

In some sheltered places the trees retained their golden-yellow attire.

The wet, fallen leaves can also look attractive, particularly when they choose to alight on a sawn log.

I dunno - but I quite like it....

Around the house, that stands in the centre of the park, the trees and consequently the hues of the Autumn foliage have more variety.

Sometimes it almost creates a rainbow of colour.

The great trees at the edge of the pasture land stand in splendid isolation, showing their bold structure.

I rather fell in love with this battered stump amid the fallen branches, though I'd be hard pressed to tell you exactly why. Sometimes a little voice calls out to me to take a picture and over the years I've learned to take notice of it. We were actually searching for fungi at the time. 

Oh dear, now he's taking shots of old bits of builders' tarpaulin! Best take him home and make him a nice cup of tea!

Take care.