Bog asphodel and cross-leaved heath Black Mire was golden with the seed-heads of bog asphodel, sprinkled with pink flowers of cross-leaved heath. Not a long walk, but tough. We sloshed up the fellside through the mire of saturated peat, our legs tethered by stems of bracken grown rank through a wet spring and summer. We slogged through the solitude of Black Mire, loving the way sunlight coloured a great sweep of bog asphodel, intense gold, dull gold. I love thinking through habitat, considering the flora that could be here at this season, then finding cross-leaved heath and devil's bit scabious.
Black mire resounds with the trickle of water tracks and we squelch upslope, stopping to admire the way sunlight illuminates flowers and seed-heads. A beautiful hummock of bright green moss is topped with a tussock of bog asphodel. In the cushion of green moss there are blood-red hints of sundew, carnivorous sundew lurking in the shadows.
We cross a zone of hydrosere, once a tarn and now drying out but with residual aquatic plants, a scatter of small plants of bogbean amidst bog asphodel. I'm hoping that when we crest the ridge we'll come upon a tarn I have always loved to visit. And, at last, here it is, rank with late-summer growth of bog asphodel, wine red stems of cotton grass and out in deeper water the leaves and green pods of bog bean.
It's a warm and sunny day, and in the stillness dragonflies flit about the fringe of the tarn. I love the colours of sphagnum moss, through green and gold to deep red. It's saturated and a close-up shows it looking gelatinous. And blood-red sundew lurks with glistening sticky droplets to entrap insect prey.
We cross a zone of hydrosere, once a tarn and now drying out but with residual aquatic plants, a scatter of small plants of bogbean amidst bog asphodel. I'm hoping that when we crest the ridge we'll come upon a tarn I have always loved to visit. And, at last, here it is, rank with late-summer growth of bog asphodel, wine red stems of cotton grass and out in deeper water the leaves and green pods of bog bean.
It's a warm and sunny day, and in the stillness dragonflies flit about the fringe of the tarn. I love the colours of sphagnum moss, through green and gold to deep red. It's saturated and a close-up shows it looking gelatinous. And blood-red sundew lurks with glistening sticky droplets to entrap insect prey.
It's several years since I've been up at the cairn on Loughrigg Fell and everyman and his dogs is here. We knew work is being done on the fix-the-fells stone staircase and accepted the descent would be rough and tough on the knees. Helicopters have dropped bags of stones, path side. It's a work in progress with easy sections, then places where it 's a challenge of rubble and rock. One man tells us he's carried his Scottish Terrier all the way down, as the dog is old and arthritic. No wonder he looks fagged, he can't possibly see the steep ground at his feet and the steps are irregular and footing unpredictable. Thank goodness there was solitude by the tarn.
The low fell-side above Loughrigg Terrace is rank with bracken. I remember it's being beautiful with bog asphodel and devil's bit scabious. My friend wonders what flowers might flourish beneath the bracken. We were here in spring when the entire slope was awash with bluebells. And someone tells of snowdrops in February. It's a reminder that part of the pleasure is to see a place at different seasons.
The low fell-side above Loughrigg Terrace is rank with bracken. I remember it's being beautiful with bog asphodel and devil's bit scabious. My friend wonders what flowers might flourish beneath the bracken. We were here in spring when the entire slope was awash with bluebells. And someone tells of snowdrops in February. It's a reminder that part of the pleasure is to see a place at different seasons.
RSS Feed