Willow beside a frozen lake, Sizergh On a bright winter’s day at Helsington Church we are alone, and not alone. A woodpecker is drumming, nuthatch are vocal and a bullfinch calls softly.
Yesterday, a raven rode the thermals by Scout Scar escarpment, legs reaching-out for touch-down as the wind swept the bird up and away.
This morning is so calm we feel and hear our feet crunch through frost sparkling the grass and enhancing the intricate veins of winter leaves. Senses are heightened on such a day.
Yesterday, a raven rode the thermals by Scout Scar escarpment, legs reaching-out for touch-down as the wind swept the bird up and away.
This morning is so calm we feel and hear our feet crunch through frost sparkling the grass and enhancing the intricate veins of winter leaves. Senses are heightened on such a day.
In the former deer park of Sizergh Castle stands a hawthorn, a grotesque with trunk and boughs swollen and constricted with age, gnarled and knotted, bosses on bark and a niche scar, as if a bird has in-filled the rim of a nest-hole to keep it snug. The tree will be between 250- 400 years old- the range for ancient hawthorn. Birch crowns are a mist of amethyst. The sun warms us but the air is chill, linger in the shadows and the cold attacks fingers and toes. Robins come close, food begging. There’s an old bath-tub, a water-trough for beasts. Who has bathed in it over the years and were they the denizens of SIzergh Castle? It’s not as old as the hawthorn, but aged.
About the Sizergh pond grow hazel with long, male catkins - pollen withheld but soon to shed in a shower of gold. The lake is icy, with mallard splashing in open water and reflections of a willow whose crown is rosy. Willow catkins glow as 'pussies' shrug off a single dark scale and their downy white catches the bright sun. New- growth twigs are ruby- red. A crown thick with catkins must be alder.
This January day feels like a harbinger of spring. Early catkins are a surprise and a delight, my first of the season- other hazel and willow are far from flowering. ‘What are catkins?' it’s a deceptively simple question. They're tree flowers, tassels of tiny flowers crowded together. The pendent golden tassels of hazel, familiar to many, are male flowers. Its deep red female flowers are tiny and less abundant. The purple catkins of alder are male flowers, opening much later than hazel. You have to search to find female alder flowers. Male birch catkins are slender, green, and open later in spring. Bog myrtle catkins are early and beautiful, the female flowers are elusive.
Willow catkins, 'pussies', are beloved of children. The soft white male catkin resembles a cat's paw. I delight in the beauty of this willow, its catkins gleaming against a foil of intense blue on a winter's day in January. There are some 400 species of willow, and hydbrids too. Willow is dioecious, with male and female flowers occurring on different trees. Each species has its discrete flowers. So, for today, beauty is enough. I'll go back to watch this willow through spring and to note the bark, the habit of the tree, to see its leaf buds open.
A couple of days later I found a hazel with long male catkins, the flowers closed-tight in hibernation. On the same stems there were a few red female flowers, fully open. Synchronicity seemed out of sync here- to pollinate the female flowers the male catkins would need to be shedding pollen.
Willow catkins, 'pussies', are beloved of children. The soft white male catkin resembles a cat's paw. I delight in the beauty of this willow, its catkins gleaming against a foil of intense blue on a winter's day in January. There are some 400 species of willow, and hydbrids too. Willow is dioecious, with male and female flowers occurring on different trees. Each species has its discrete flowers. So, for today, beauty is enough. I'll go back to watch this willow through spring and to note the bark, the habit of the tree, to see its leaf buds open.
A couple of days later I found a hazel with long male catkins, the flowers closed-tight in hibernation. On the same stems there were a few red female flowers, fully open. Synchronicity seemed out of sync here- to pollinate the female flowers the male catkins would need to be shedding pollen.
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