by Robin Noble
Yes, I know it's a silly title, but I am always chary of announcing the arrival of spring, when we have, so far, had really no winter weather to grumble about. And today, February 1st, would have been a good summer day in the UK, where Storm Henry is raging...
And in the outside world, here there really are some signs of spring; upon on the hill the hazel catkins are almost over and the gorse has been in bloom for ages. In the hedges the quinces are showing that wonderful colour, and bulbs are pushing up quite fast. In our wee orchard, there is a brilliant speedwell in bloom, some bright hawkweeds, and the tiny cyclamen I planted out a couple of years back, to naturalise under the boundary hedge, are vivid pink, scarlet and crimson.
The bird-feeder has not been especially busy so far, perhaps because of the mild weather, but I am definitely hearing more goldfinches tinkling around the place. Another sign of spring is the emphatic call of the chiffchaff, and the melodious sound of the blackcap; the latter has been much in evidence in the last few days. The bees here have hardly stopped all winter, and with the rosemary and hedge shrubs blooming, they are increasingly active. Not that it has much to do with winter or spring, a jay flew low over the house today, just as I was walking out on to the terrace. The patch of vivid blue on its wing caught the sun as it passed me - lovely!
Other things have been on the move, too; sadly I did not see them alive, just dead, squashed on a short section of a byroad into the hills. There were the brilliant black-and-yellow salamanders, (salamandre tachetée), which "the book" says are nocturnal creatures of the forest. A shame only to see them dead, but the fact that there were three or four of them on a short section of a quiet back road, indicates, I hope, that they are quite plentiful. I find myself wondering why their colouring should be so bright if they are nocturnal...
Yes, I know it's a silly title, but I am always chary of announcing the arrival of spring, when we have, so far, had really no winter weather to grumble about. And today, February 1st, would have been a good summer day in the UK, where Storm Henry is raging...
And in the outside world, here there really are some signs of spring; upon on the hill the hazel catkins are almost over and the gorse has been in bloom for ages. In the hedges the quinces are showing that wonderful colour, and bulbs are pushing up quite fast. In our wee orchard, there is a brilliant speedwell in bloom, some bright hawkweeds, and the tiny cyclamen I planted out a couple of years back, to naturalise under the boundary hedge, are vivid pink, scarlet and crimson.
The bird-feeder has not been especially busy so far, perhaps because of the mild weather, but I am definitely hearing more goldfinches tinkling around the place. Another sign of spring is the emphatic call of the chiffchaff, and the melodious sound of the blackcap; the latter has been much in evidence in the last few days. The bees here have hardly stopped all winter, and with the rosemary and hedge shrubs blooming, they are increasingly active. Not that it has much to do with winter or spring, a jay flew low over the house today, just as I was walking out on to the terrace. The patch of vivid blue on its wing caught the sun as it passed me - lovely!
Other things have been on the move, too; sadly I did not see them alive, just dead, squashed on a short section of a byroad into the hills. There were the brilliant black-and-yellow salamanders, (salamandre tachetée), which "the book" says are nocturnal creatures of the forest. A shame only to see them dead, but the fact that there were three or four of them on a short section of a quiet back road, indicates, I hope, that they are quite plentiful. I find myself wondering why their colouring should be so bright if they are nocturnal...
