Late July and it seems as if the bees and butterflies have finally abandoned a long lie-in and are out and about. Like a lot of people, I have been struck by the drop in numbers this year; it has felt palpable and overtly obvious. But today, sitting in an on-off shade as the sun is drawn in and out from large rolling white clouds, I have seen a small resurgence of bees, butterflies and hoverflies. No, not as many still as previous years, but enough to give me hope.
They are particularly taken with the wild oregano which is flowering with dusky pink frothy heads. It is a bit of a thug of a plant really, spreading itself widely, taking over long grasses and liking surrounding the bases of trees and hedge lines. But I let it do what it wants for the very purpose of knowing the sustenance it gives to insects. It is also a delightful scent that gets released as you brush up against it; warm, slightly spicy and invoking of warmer climes.
Spires of hyssop are also beginning to flower in blue and white and these too pull in the pollinators.
Our garden has gone a little wild and rogue this year as I haven’t been able to do as much as usual. Part of me is desperate to get it back under some kind of control, another part is enjoying sitting back and watching what happens and who arrives amid the chaos.
A month or so ago we had dreadful trouble with a deer who had found a way into our garden. It would come in at night and chomp its way through various plants. Its favourite snacks seemed to be the Japanese anemone, geums, pink sorrel, strawberry plants and the young thin branches of the apple tree I planted last year. Now, as much as I encourage wildlife into the garden, we had to draw the line at this. So it was that we spent a few weeks putting off planting out our vegetable crops while we tried to figure out where the deer was getting in and then putting things in place to try to stop it. This saw me each morning doing a round of the garden in my pyjamas, dressing gown and boots stealthily trying to see where the deer (who was found lurking under the trees on many occasions) would suddenly dash off to and run away via. If anyone saw me, I must have looked quite insane and this view likely compounded by the putting up of fencing at possible entry points adorned with bells, ribbons and shiny strips to try to put the deer off. My covert dashes in bedwear failed, however Darling Husband managed to spot the place of its egress and successfully close off access.
Now, I sit and see that against the odds of munching decimation, everything has grown back fully and flowering. And there is hope showing itself again with the return of what was thought lost and done.
I picked the first plums and blackberries today, the latter though deep, black and soft, were face-pulling-ly tart; too early and without enough consistent warmth to sweeten them. There is a bramble which always grows within the branches of the neighbour’s apple tree which hangs over our fence. The spiny stems adorned with wild fruit lying next to swelling apples, always makes me think they are producing some kind of hybrid ready-filling for an apple and blackberry crumble.
I know most people wish days away in the later months to hurry spring and summer forward, but I have a kind of aching love and comfort in autumn. I do not long for the days to pass quickly to get there, every day is to be savoured, but I am not one to fear or dread the changing of the seasons to the one where I feel most at home.
And I’m not even sure that we have seasons any longer. We often appear to have each one every month for just a few days at a time. Change is happening, it is undeniable and it is hard at times not to see only the negative shifts. But nature continues to show us there is hope and we must build on that, and perhaps a starting place might be to make sure we also notice the good and the hopeful. Never lose sight. Never lose heart.
harvested. (This is the time of ridiculously bad hayfever for me and I will now spend the next few months breathing as if I had just run a marathon while playing the tuba). What is it that we normally do which we have not been doing that has allowed a boost in such nature as butterflies? Or, is it that we are just noticing them more because of our changed circumstances? I offer these questions with no answers, by the way, I am merely musing. If it is the former then it makes me feel quite sad because that would show the direct negative impact we humans have on the natural world – I can’t help but have the sneaky suspicion that this is probably true.
