Marsh Grass & Zombie Mammals
I'd noticed a patch of tall purplish brown looking tall plants in a marshy area not far from the house while on the bus the other day and thought it deserved some investigation. Partly as I was annoyed with myself for not really paying attention to it before despite it's proximity to the house and also that it could be a valuable resource depending on what it was. From a distance I couldn't say if it was bulrushes, teasels or some sort of sedge grass.I'd also promised myself a mushroom hunt as they've been out early up here and the thought of freshly picked mushrooms for an outdoor snack was appealing.
I'd headed into the next village in the early hours to catch the internet café opening as I needed to send some emails and fancied a caffeine fix. That over I did a quick shop & caught the bus home. Packed away the shopping and picked up the bag I'd packed earlier that morning.
Out the door into a warm breezy day. The forecast was good and only a few clouds studded the sky. Headed east out of the village with swallows zooming overhead setting the scene for a perfect summer day. As I reached the level crossing I noticed a gazebo tent and some cars parked up the hill at the graveyard which seemed odd, but I'd be there soon enough to find out what was going on.
Over the crossing I stopped at Sally's field to say hello to her horses who trotted over to see if I had any tit-bits for them. I'd popped a couple of carrots that were a bit shriveled into my pocket for this reason and they happily munched them and let me give them a clap before heading further out to the old gate that would lead me to the marshy area. Before getting there I noticed something out of place in an elder-flower bush. There was a large round silvery grey mass nestled in there. A very large wasp bike, larger than a football with angry sounding sentries on picket duty. I took a couple of pictures but decided not to get too close. I'd kept bees years ago but wasps are of a different cadre and I'm not prepared to muck about with them. So keeping quiet and slow I edged off towards my goal thinking back to my forestry days when there'd be Keystone Cops moments are fellow cutters felled a tree with a bike in it and scarpered off through the woods with a trail of angry assassins closely pursuing them.
The grass is pretty long as soon as ones through the gate and it's not used for grazing or silage due to the unevenness and accumulated ground water in the lower areas. Up the embankment the reddish sandy soil was showing from one of the many rabbit burrows in the area. They were either hiding from the buzzard on patrol in the sky above me or the westerly wind had taken my scent to them. Either way the only signs that the burrows are still in use were the areas of damper soil where they'd been digging not too long ago. The same wind was not only keeping the insect life grounded but also bringing the smell of freshly brewed beer from the distillery as another batch was being made up to be turned into whisky. The village has a long history of brewing and distilling. In fact the first recorded public sale of beer was here in the village in 1488 when a royal party stopped to refresh themselves at the brewery.
The smell was being mixed with the wild flowers making for pleasant progress though I kept on stopping to look at all the ladybirds hunting and mating on the thistles. I've been pretty fascinated by them since as a kid. I'd opening the french windows on the primary school classroom to see the door jam literally stuffed with a moving mass of red and black bodies as they looked for a good hibernation spot. I remember going to the library and getting every book I could on them to see what they were all about.
I stopped about halfway to the mystery plants I'd come out to view and got out my binoculars. Quickly focused in and could see that they weren't bulrushes or teasels but some kind of tall grass. Slung the binos round my neck and carried on, being careful not to step on the multitude of grasshoppers that were bounding about and calling to each other in the heat of the day. I was glad I'd popped on my hat as it was stopping the sweat running into my eyes even though I had to keep popping the peak back every-time I lifted my field-glasses to look at something new. The heat had made the midge bites I'd received in the morning itch, but I was stopping myself from scratching as I didn't want to make them worse.
(Can anyone identify the grass?)
Got to the tall grasses and realised I'd yet again left my plant ID book behind. I was either going to have to take a sample home or at least get some pictures and I could identify the purple wild rice looking heads later. I decided against samples as the undersides of the leaves were thick with greenfly and I didn't want my house plants getting covered. But it was lovely standing there it as the breeze caused waves in the seven foot stems, very lulling and hypnotic. Down in some of the open patches of water pond skaters and water boatmen were making their way about. No sign of amphibian life though or fish. The odd dragonfly wove through the grass heads at speed, reacting so quickly to the movement of grass in the wind as to seem precognitive. They really are masters of their environment.Decided to head to quarry wood in search of some fungi so retraced my steps back to the gate and crossed the road into another field which would lead me up the incline. I knew the gate at the top had rusted shut a long time ago but that a section of the fence was out. Once up top I came to the stony path that leads up to the graveyard and turned right. At the edge of the wood I had a quick look over the fence, but no mushrooms greeted me. Thought I'd look further into the wood so clambered over the fence and entered the still cool shade of the coniferous forest.
It's mainly Lodge-pole pine (good source of resin for me) 'round the edge with Scots pine in the center all surrounding an old sand quarry. There's a kestrel nest in here and a multitude of rabbits. I don't know if the rabbits and squirrels had had all the fungi but there wasn't any to be found despite other areas yielding fruit of late. So while collecting firewood for a stick fire I checked on the mass of Elder-flowers bushes in there to see how the crop was coming. Looks like it's going to be a goodharvest again this year and I was also treated to some early brambles to moisten my dry mouth.
Enough wood collected I quickly made up a feather stick and prepared some tinder on a sandy patch. Took out my Hudson Bay kit and speedily made sparks which caught the bulrush down and parched wood to a merry little blaze. I wanted it to burn quickly as I wanted some embers to bake the eggs I'd brought in lieu of the fungi that I hadn't found. Resting with my back to a tree I took out my Opinel and chipped a circular hole in the blunt ends of the two eggs I had nestled in the folds of my shemagh. I eased them into the two little depressions I'd made in the ashes and watched the shells discolour with the heat as the insides bubbled and cooked. I rolled a cigarette whilst waiting and swigged from the bottle of cold tea I'd brought with me. After about fifteen to twenty minutes I reckoned the eggs were done and moved them out of the fire with some sticks to allow them to cool to peeling temperature and let the fire die away.
Peeled the still warm eggs and sat eating them between more gulps of tea watching the insects and birds make their way about the woods. Was feeling pretty happy with myself as it was a lovely day with good grub in a pretty place. I cleared up the remains of the fire so that no-one would know of my stopping there bar some bent grass where I'd been sitting. Decided to head for the graveyard and see what the tabernacle was all about.
Out of one wood and up the path of another, kicking up dust and pebbles in the heat I came to a group of about fifteen folk and two Alsatians having a sit-down picnic by the lytch gate of the graveyard. Seemed a little strange even for my little village. Once upon them I got chatting to an older chap who informed me that they had an annual family get together up here as a lot of the family are buried here and that relatives come from all over for it. Seemed quite a nice idea and reminded me of the "Day of the dead" festivals they have in Mexico where they all gather and venerate their ancestors. The dogs came up for a play (well I think they thought I may be a soft touch for food). After chatting for a while and being asked to join in their party I headed off into the graveyard as I wanted to take some pictures inside.
After taking my pictures I sat on the ruins of the mortsafe and opened a little bottle of Barr's limeade (a guilty pleasure) and decided to finish the last half of the mars bar I'd squirreled away this morning. While sitting there idly wondering if there was any aryls on the yew tree (wrong time of year I know) some movement caught my eye amid the graves off to my left.
(Ben the mental spaniel)
(Can anyone tell me what the grass was and what this white flowering plant is?)
Btw I think I found the grass, it looks like Purple top grass.
