Thursday 20 June 2019

Natural healing

The heavy door is being pushed closed. Before inevitable blackness, my gaoler takes a last look at me. I've already had periods of incarceration in two shower cubicles. And had my glasses confiscated and porridge eaten. Eighteen-month-olds who've discovered the wonder of a darkened pantry and a captive and malleable grandfather can be demanding kidnappers. I await release.

We've had proper rain ...
The pendulum swings and I'm checking through images captured on my trail cameras. Foxes and pheasants. And on the terrace, after dawn, my barefooted dad captured in his pyjamas,  anguished, face pressed against the windows, searching for our bedroom.

In the news this week a report that says that two hours of nature significantly boosts health and wellbeing*. As my dad deteriorates and decisions will need to be taken, I need nature and its' benefits like never before.

Later, (organised by my sister) we take dad to see Thomas Piper's 'Five seasons' - the film documentary about the work of dutch landscape designer Piet Oudolf. His landscapes open up on the wide screen like a succession of water colour abstracts and move through the seasons from his exquisite summer pastels to the muted sepia tones of winter. A remarkable film about a remarkable plant artist - and dad for the most part awake throughout seeming to take something from it. Piet is a giant in landscape design as dad has been in our lives.

I need to add a footnote to my admiration of Oudolf. He makes little overt reference to the importance of plant choice and management to wildlife - especially invertebrates. We have a large area devoted to ‘Prairie Beds’. They make a wonderful refuge for mammals, flowers such as his signature cone flowers and Joe-Pye weed are adored by bees - and finches flock to the seeding heads of Turkish Sage left overwinter. He misses this opportunity and should do more to tailor his planting schemes and management to have a measurable and positive impact on wildlife.

A male cuckoo calling loudly close to the kitchen. Two male bullfinches - gloriously rosy. And  feeders full of juvenile birds. We've checked one hundred and fifty local nest boxes and ringed most of the occupants of successful nests. Where are all these un-ringed birds coming from?

Our foxes remain. A dampened adult in the persistent rain crosses the Woodland Garden,  mouth full of food to the den beneath next doors shipping container. The hedgehog cafe tipped over in the night and food eaten by the dog fox. But no sight of three cubs together. An ominous rotting stench greets us as we remove seeding heads from drive-side perennials near the den.

No hedgehog sitings for ten days. Perhaps the foxes..?

Dwarf beans germinate in
peat-free compost
We've had proper rain this month, filling George's Pond and penetrating the soil. Good news for the ground isn't necessarily the same for nesting birds. Those in holes or boxes have some protection but ground nesters will have difficulties. The pincer movement of rain waterlogging nests and our hungry foxes may have prevented successful breeding of mallards and pheasants. No ducklings or chicks yet. An enterprising wren has made its' tiny nest in the hen house. No matter how I approach, the bird darts away leaving me guilty about the disturbance.

At Bempton, Yorkshire we watch a barn owl flying during the day, like a large cream moth.  A probable sign of stress as barn owl feathers lack waterproofing. They cannot hunt and feed their young during wet weather.

Three house sparrow chicks ringed. The confiding adult birds chirrup when their bowl of mealworms is empty. A robin has also learned of this inexhaustible food supply and dives in. A ringed juvenile sparrow on the feeders. Nesting material carried to the colony box and the adult birds' attempted copulation bode well for a second brood...

Above the bird song the sky is silent. No swifts, swallows or house martins. A silence louder than the Lancaster bomber that passes low overhead twice in two weeks. The loss of these birds is complex, avoidable - and utterly shaming to us all.

In the Woodland Garden, a rare sight for Jill. A stream of honey bees overhead: a mating flight. The pheromones of the queen bee draw male drones to chase her and mate.

Cream-bordered green pea moth
Despite the rain, our strawberries swell and ripen. It won't be a bumper year. One kilo of fruit used for jam so far. Outside, we re-enact the Battle of Rorkes Drift but the denouement differs. Waves of grey squirrels enter the strawberry beds, departing with fruit. I am not tooled for war and my inadequate response is remonstration.

Some of my best Cordwood memories will be the evenings. Honeysuckle is still scenting the night air. The moth light glows warm beneath the trees. x moths of y species at our last count. A tiny migrant cream-bordered green pea moth (Earias clorana) new for us.

Our Vegetable Garden is beginning to crop. The air sweet as I twist big overwintering red onions out of the moist ground and place them in a tray for drying. Meagre shallots and garlic are lifted too. The bed has been undermined by moles and I push the soft earth down with my heals before mulching, raking and then sowing Autumn King carrots and planting parsley and lettuce. Crispy salads of leaves, pea shoots, dill and coriander. Our first crop of broad beans came in at just over 1kg of plump, juicy beans. 22kgs of fresh, organic food brought to the kitchen since March.

Juvenile house sparrow
Our asparagus is in its' first year of cropping and a magnet for asparagus beetle. Whenever I pass, I scour the stalks for the spotty pest. They've crafty critters and fall to the soil if they know I'm hunting them. I cup the stalks beneath the beetles so that they fall into my palm. A new pest for us is beetroot leaf miner which infests the leaves of beetroot and chard.

Like all gardeners we plan for the following year. Compost slowly matures - now at 50C. Horse manure and chippings have been delivered.

I work among bird song, hands in soil, hoeing and weeding until tired. I collect a trug of beetroot, asparagus, spring onions, fresh eggs and baby carrots. Natural healing.

*The Guardian 13 June 2019

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