Bee Kind...

Bees are vital to our diverse eco-system, and with over 270 species of wild bees in the UK, we have a huge responsibility to protect them.  Our little winged friends pollinate our wild flowers, gardens and crops, to this end they work tirelessly as soon as the days lengthen and warmer weather arrives.

The heather, hellebores and other spring flowers are vibrating to the work of our resident worker bees, both hives are lively and working.  It is such a privilege to live alongside these amazing creatures, I feel that they have so much intelligence to share with us.  In our generation alone, there has been a massive loss of the bees' natural habitat, this is having a catastrophic effect on bee colonies.  It is our responsibility to preserve and restore these natural wonders in our countryside for the benefit and well being of future generations...

Scent of Ivy and Fir

This morning's Turkish Delight sky is fragranced with the intoxicating wood-scent of Ivy and fir, blue smoke from the woodmen's coppicing fire permeating the hillside.

Ivy has a symbiotic relationship with so many of our native trees, their trunks resplendent in ivy leaf breeches.  In a way Ivy is the woodland couturier, cladding its chosen host in glorious olive creations in exchange for a drink.  I love wandering through the mall of trees, looking at nature's intricate designs and imaginative colour combinations.

What a fabulous catwalk collection, an arbicultural fashion week...

Changing Landscape

Today's biting wind has chilled me to the bone, so much so that I am now snuggled up with a fleece and hottie in an attempt to thaw!  Vulcan and Icy, tired from chasing around for warmth, are my cosy couch companions tonight.

Despite this seasonal cold snap, a quick visual survey of the landscape shows that the surrounding patchwork of fields is beginning to change colour in preparation for the early summer crops.  I am particularly interested in the oatmeal coloured rape fields which, just eight weeks hence, will be a vibrant blaze of yellow.  A firm favourite with the bees, there is a sense of trepidation as this may be the first year that the farmers grow their crop from GMO seed.  These unnatural blue seeds are a worry for all bee keepers.  A thriving natural world, preserved for future generations, is dependent on responsible custodianship of our land and all her species, this is something where we all need to play our part...

Stunning Totems

This graceful young stag stopped me in my tracks along the track today...  Mr Timnus I presume!

              All it takes is a little imagination for wonder and magical moments to surround you...

Bell Roses

Pretty, white Bell-Rose Hellebores add grace and elegance to the late winter garden!

                                                          Glorious, simply glorious...

Limestone Grassland

The Devon Reds have moved higher onto the limestone grassland today.  Close inspection reveals that they are tucking into the purple shooting bramble leaves as they push up through the dry grass.

I have always associated bramble, for culinary purposes, with autumn fruit, delicious in crumble and jam.  Of course, our honey bees devour bramble flower nectar in late June, producing precious stores of bramble honey if we are lucky.  Without doubt, the combined taste and texture of bramble honey is simply the best...

Today, seeing the cattle feasting on succulent, young bramble shoots added a further credence to the culinary possibilities of the thug-like bramble.  Vicious backward growing thorns take no prisoners, punishing careless gardener's hands with glee!

Welcome Party...

Last night, at dusk, unusual guests lined the barbed wire fence to welcome us home.   A herd of seven Devon Reds had wedged themselves uncomfortably amongst the wild hazel border, seeking shelter from the ferocious northerly winds.  Along the track, it's common to catch a fleeting, peripheral glimpse of a deer or rabbit, but the sheer form and presence of these magnificent beasts is breathtaking.  The cattle have been introduced as part of the re-naturalisation programme in this AONB.  Curious by nature, they push their heads through our boundary hedge in search of pastures new, snapping strands of barbed wire, with ease, in the process. These bovine beauties leave their signature trail of titian hair twisted around the hawthorn, like ribbons flying from a Maypole.

Ideally, the herd would like to cosy down in the woodshed, warm and sheltered from the intemperate conditions, but thankfully this season's timber stacks fill the space.  There is only one downside to the presence of our curious friends; the churning effect of their heavy footprints in the waterlogged soil  Early primroses, wild daffodils and snowdrops lie imprinted in muddy troughs; well and truly 'pressed!'

Natural Re-generation

The clearing of the pine paddock continues a pace.  It is a demanding task for the woodman, who works meticulously, calculating the angle of fall for each tree, his priority is to avoid the track and fragile over-head lines. The farm at the brow of the hill relies on these out-modded lines for communication with the outside world.  In the event of a cold snap, snow and ice often render the track impassable save for the ancient Massey Ferguson and the Defender!

I learned today that the plan is to allow the land re-generate naturally.  Within a couple of years we can expect a profusion of buddlea and a smattering of ash saplings.  What a wonderful prospect, a morning stroll in the company of butterflies.

Smoke Signals

Vulcan and I spotted slate smoke signals, rising high above a copse of aged pines this morning, on our ritual climb to the cattle grid.  Within living memory, this woodland was a paddock, where locals grew kale and potatoes for their families.  At the end of WW2, local landowners were given grants to plant non-indigenous pine crops for use in the re-construction of the country.  Now, sixty years on, these trees are rangy and well past their sell by date!  The red clay, below their canopy, lies barren; acidic and inhospitable to our native flora and fauna.  So now, with the promise of spring, pine incense permeates the woods, and neat stacks of timber punctuate the land.

And it's not only trees on the move!  The field grass is holding an exhibition of finely tilled soil; molehills.  The style and design of the individual mounds varies, according to their artistic influence, but there is no doubt that these palm sized creatures, with shovels for hands, shift soil speedily.    During February, it's the amorous males who create the soil sculptures, digging an underground tunnel-system in search of a mate.  Being a life-long fan of Moley's adventures in 'Wind in the Willows', I have tolerance for these tenacious little fellows.  I'm grateful their help in the garden, showing a natural flair for the principles of Feng Shui they efficiently aerate our heavy clay soil and cleanse the soil of potentially troublesome grubs. 

Bird-Life

This year St Valentine blessed us with a RSPB birdsong clock, if you haven't seen one, I recommend checking them out!  Each hour's arrival is announced by a different song-bird, from a fabulous cast of twelve: barn owl, black bird, robin, nightingale, song thrush, chaffinch, blue tit, great tit...

 The power of birdsong to lift the human spirit is seriously underrated in the modern world where wi-fi and smart phones rule.  A simple step outside the front door, on a frosty morning, is all it takes to let these talented choristers into your world. As the sun rises, they harmonise in unison to welcome the start of another day full of infinite promise...

This morning, we watched woodpeckers breakfasting at the bird table on seeds and nuts.  We are thrilled to host both: the 'green woodpecker,' moss plumage topped with a cherry fascinator, as well as the 'great spotted woodpecker,' red flecked monochrome.  They are frequent visitors, particularly when hard ground makes extracting insects a trial.  Distinctive drumming announces their presence, reminding us to keep a close eye on the bee hives.  These beautiful birds become drilling predators when conditions are tough; the opportunity to feed on warm, sweet honey fresh from the hive can prove just too tempting to resist!

Wet & Sodden

Yesterday provided a glimpse of promise, respite from endless long, damp days.  It was testament to the hardiness of hellebores and snowdrops, our garden's early visitors.  Frozen, like statues in Narnia, it was a joy to watch them gently lift their heads towards the sun as it crept over the hill and warmed their sap.

Frozen ground presented us with a perfect opportunity to prune the hazel and dog rose hedge that runs the length of the ha-ha. Woody and leggy it was detracting from the view; drastic action was the order of the day.  We needed a re-style, a Vidal Sassoon inspired make-over; bold and definite.  The decision was taken to cut the hard wood back to the base to allow fresh green growth create soft movement.  The result is stunning, with space for the air to circulate and the sun to warm the soil.  Soon the fern fronds will unfurl, providing parasols and shade for the flower fairies and water sprites who love to play in the garden...

Galanthophile

I awoke this morning to hear the definition of the word galanthophile coming over the radio waves!
This wonderful word conjures visions of intrepid explorers, high in the mountains seeking out different varieties of these hardy little flowers.  In Victorian times they were all the rage, and it was quite de rigeur to hold 'Snowdrop Luncheons', where each guest arrived with snowdrops from their own garden to exchange with another guest.  The simplicity and joy in such a simple transaction seems to be lost in today's frantic existence!

Wandering through the woods, surveying Gertrude's work, I was fascinated to find vibrant bursts of colour amongst the fractured, brittle branches.  A holly bush laden with crimson berries nestling in amongst the ivy breeches of the native ash.  These dapper olive leggings adding glossy depth to the slumbering tree trunks, their elegance distracting their hosts from the truth of their parasitic nature.  Many majestic woodland giants are overcome by gusts from Gertrude, and her like, because the weight of the trunk, dressed in ivy, disturbs nature's perfect balance...