Intersection Logs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3O4vnG2qvqA&feature=player_embedded

About half of it is a lecture on astronaut food. I suppose one takes one's teachable moments where one can find them.

Yesterday we did our favourite segment of the Sheffield Round Walk, from Ecclesall Woods up to Ringinglow and down the Mayfield valley to end at Endcliffe park. The woods were full of bluebells, giant stitchwort, and wild garlic, as well as fresh leaves; there were robins, and a mob of ducklings on Forge Dam, and of course that heron. Most of the surprises of the day, though, happened in the field just before Ringinglow -- the bit I've taken to calling the Boggy Field with Cows In. Because it's boggy -- being apparently at least one of the sources of the Limb Brook -- and has a higher probability of bovine encounters than is quite comfortable. We decided to chance it rather than going half a mile out of our way, given the dry weather lately -- only to encounter surprise number one. In the last year, someone has devoted a lot of trouble and a lorryload or two of stone chippings to making a nice dry path through the bog.

Surprise number two was the Fungi of Unusual Size, growing on a dead tree; seriously, the things were the size of dinner plates, if not tea trays, and quite handsomely scaled in gold and brown. Someone had apparently harvested one, quite neatly with a sharp knife, but there were plenty left to admire.

( Picture )


After detouring to look at the fungi, we sat down to eat our sandwiches while we were a bit off the beaten track, and that was when surprise number three happened; a sizeable branch fell off one of the beech trees with a tremendous crash. Fortunately no one was too close at the time -- though the nearest dog came running almost before the echoes had died down. (We got a closer look later, and it looked as though it had been rotten anyway, and had come down under the weight of the new leaves.)

We went for a walk in the woods today. In places there were so many bluebells that their scent perfumes the air, and the green of the leaves was sharp-sweet in the sunlight.

Narcissus



( Tulip )

( Magnolia )

It was windy today, which made photography challenging, but mild and sunny, despite the forecast claiming it was raining. The crocuses are about done, but there are lots of wood anemones and celandines, as well as the blossom and daffodils and occasional rhododendrons. And here and there, fresh green leaves unfurling.

We went back to Whirlow this afternoon. The daffodils are still not really out, except for a few here and there, but some of the rhododendrons are starting to flower. (In other news, daffodils are not the easiest flowers to photograph, what with their habit of looking down and their penchant for shady corners!)

If they can keep up the weeding on the rock garden, which has been quite extensively cleared and replanted, and maybe get rid of the dead maple by the pond, it should be quite pretty there in the summer. The pond badly needs dredging, though.

Yesterday was sunny-intervals-and-showers, fairly typical Spring weather. Today, it's foggy, with visibility of about a couple of hundred yards. Very odd for March.

New Scientist feels it necessary to quote someone as saying, re the ongoing Japanese power-station crisis, "there is no chance of a 'China syndrome' scenario, with the fuel burning its way right through to the earth's core with potential to blow up the planet." I would certainly hope not!

Speaking of which, I wonder if one of the lessons taken from this will be to build reactors a bit farther apart in future.

These flowers on bare twigs (willow?) are tiny, but exquisite. There was some kind of small brown bird -- not a sparrow -- hopping around in the branches, too.

They're working on the long-neglected rock garden at Whirlow Brook Park; the rockery has been cleaned out and planted with new shrubs. It's not very attractive at the moment, but it should be an improvement once it settles in. On the other hand, the lovely red maple by the (badly silted-up) lily pond looks awfully dead. The Mexican skunk cabbage is just starting to sprout, making splashes of yellow-green as bright and unnatural-looking as neon plastic.

The mobile camera is a bit hit-or-miss, but I'm pleased with this one, snapped on my way to the shop this lunchtime.