Originally published April 2010
Hello everyone! If you have not been to the Reserve lately, you really should! Spring has sprung and all that life I was talking about last month is emerging in all its glory. This week I am going to deviate from the usual TQW format of myth, ancient languages and Ripping Yarns and just give you a brief update on what is happening in our lovely little reserve.
First of all water, the pond is full to the brim and looking glorious. I have already seen the Water Boatmen busily rowing along just below the surface and heard the frog chorus in the evening (more on our croakers next month!). Go and see it before the duckweed (Lemna sp.) covers the surface to resemble a long green highway through a tunnel of trees. Talking of ducks a pair of Mallards appear to be making a home for themselves in the reeds, the Drake looking resplendent in a heady blaze of iridescence.
We have some trees to clear out of the deep end and there is still one of our fallen Ladies of the Wood wedged up against a couple of other trees beside the pond (re. February’s article), so please be careful on windy days. The trusty band of foresters have cleared the footpaths and made the arboreal casualties near the road bridge safe; the dead wood will be distributed around the Reserve as habitat piles.
This year the pondside (at present anyway!) bench should finally be tackled and the nicest vista in Quarry Wood will then be enjoyed in comfort. The trees are still bare though buds are now visible and the sap will be rising soon. Over the next few weeks the pervading scent of garlic will waft along the lanes and through the woods as the Ramsons burst into flower and take over from the Snowdrops along with Bluebells, Wood Anemones, Aconites and Spotted Orchids. A veritable paradise!
Finally, I hope you are all busy nursing little trees into the wide world, keep watching for further details on the planting day. Enjoy the Spring!
That is when my heart thaws,
my skin thaws,
my hunger thaws.
That is when the world thaws,
and the air begins to ring.
Song of the Water Boatman and Other Pond Poems. Joyce Sidman
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