Spring Unfolds

26th April 

Spring is the most important thing happening here. This is how far a chestnut blossom at the back of the house has progressed. I'll give you an update soon. I love Spring, this year particularly, because it mirrors my own joy. Someone offered me this link on cheerfulness. I can't decide if it's wise or inane. Certainly it contains plenty of common-sense and folk-wisdom. But the man is a therapist and this is a prescription for the attainment of cheerfulness. I don't suppose he has run a trial on its effectiveness and any harmful side-effects. 6th MayThere are various products of evolution which fascinate me endlessly - the domestic cockerel gallus gallus, the peacock, the cock pheasant, the horse chestnut, especially its blossom; the durian, that aromatic fruit from south-east Asia. There is mystery about their showy natures, their gratuitous glory. Here the chestnut cycle unfolds daily and there is one at the back of our flat, overhanging the car park. Share with me its extraordinary beauty! 8th May @10:15It's wonderfully rainy today and I want to get out there in boots and raincoat, investigating this brilliant yellow field of oilseed rape that we saw yesterday evening from Hughenden Park, whilst wandering through budding buttercups. I love that blue-green crop adjacent to the yellow of the rape, too. But I have to stay in for the landlord to come and look at why the ceiling is bulging and stained with leaks. We suspect a blocked gutter but since I have nagged him about it for six months and he's done nothing, I felt justified in waking him this morning and threatening to hire a ladder myself and charge him for labour and expenses. He became suddenly worried for my safety. So I suggested that I might phone the Council and tell them of my negligent landlord forcing me to live in damp conditions. It's rather an exaggeration, but necessary to get him to do anything at all. He knows I am too good-natured, despite the bluster. There is no sign of the expected workman yet . . . 8th May @13:50 Landlord came with 2 tall Poles who piggy-backed up into the loft space and swiftly hatched a plan to mend my leaking roof. So then I went to find a field of yellow (oilseed rape), and its neighbour (such a profound green - the young leaves of corn). A deer with big rump and white tail bobbed away like a rabbit. Was it a muntjac? I pondered the joy of doing what you like as opposed to the sacrificial virtues of a religious approach. It's taken me nearly a lifetime to understand. Why so long? You would think that each generation would discard those aspects of its inheritance that taste bitter and only keep what tastes sweet. How come religions are so focused on swallowing bitter pills? I suppose it is not their fault. This earthly sojourn is after all a vale of tears for many, religious or not. But isn't following your nose the most important thing you can do: to be guided in everything by your "gut feeling", discarding the head-driven oughts and thoughts till you reach pure existence? No more sacrifice to any gods! PS It was Douglas Adams who had the brilliant conceit of an I Ching calculator which output the text "A suffusion of yellow" for any calculation result greater than 4. And it is Douglas Adams who has valuable comment on the role of religions, irrational as they are, in the human scheme of things. 14th MayAm I the only devotee of chestnut blossom in its close-up form? My interest started in about 1992, when I observed the phenomenon in Brent Lodge Park. After that, an illness prevented me from going out and about much. Walking the earth and admiring the handiwork of its creator (so to speak) became a defiant act of imagination, as opposed to a real activity. So now, when the season and opportunity coincide, I can’t get enough of these flowers, gazing in wonder and pondering their mystery. So let me ask. Why do adjacent blossoms have different colours? If Darwin is right, there is some evolutionary advantage. I wish I knew how to find out. PS "Many flowers that are attractive to bees have an irregular shape that provides a landing platform. They also have flower markings that guide bees in to land on the part of the flower where it can deliver and collect pollen grains. Horse-chestnut tree flowers are cream colored with a yellow honey-guide patch on the petals. When nectar dries up, the yellow patch turns pink, becoming invisible to bees. Bees visits only the flowers that need pollination." Thanks to Massachusetts Agriculture In The Classroom But I don't think this is the full story, because there are at least three colours as in my illustration, and they are like this from the start. I have not seen any blossom clusters where all are yellow or all are pink. PPS Here is a link to a UK site which provides some clues and some experiments to conduct.  

An ancient path in Downley

20th MayOn a morning where the weather didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, I braved its occasional tears and walked in Downley. At Gosling Grove is a pond where two mallard drakes (see banner illustration above) disputed bitterly over one duck. Another seven drakes looked on, would-be suitors all, while the duck kept fastidiously out of the way, loudly quacking her vow to favour only the bravest. Along a woodland footpath, back of the houses, was a sign pinned to a tree: “DANGER Do not enter. Booby traps in area.” A skull and crossbones emphasised the point. I had to leave the path and go through the undergrowth to see the sign clearly, and though convinced it was only a child’s prank, I proceeded very cautiously. I got lost. My nose dripped, with no tissue to wipe it. Both circumstances reminded me of childhood wanderings. I passed certain people twice and recognised the same scenes from different angles, realising eventually that my path must have crossed itself like a figure of eight. What happens when I go walking under the sky? In town, the sky still arches overhead, but the distractions of people and shops take me away from that deeper self that’s so hard to describe. Yet in so many places hereabouts, I’ve only to step out to be transported. Where to? There is a strong feeling of reconnecting with a past. Gazing at the matt blue-green of the growing cornfields, I recalled when I must have been 5, in a situation when I roamed free and alone. But it goes beyond that too. Even then, there was a recognition of a still earlier time. I don't offer any theory. Then I returned to the pond. At least four of the drakes were marred with the signs of contest, their breast and neck feathers tattered. The fight continued bitterly: any drake approaching too close to the lone duck was immediately challenged. It could go on all day, for there was no time bell, no referee. 22nd MayI'd promised to give a talk, A sense of gladness took away any nervousness about its reception. Went into the park and spread the picnic rug near a great swathe of now-withered daffodils. Here in the sunshine I jotted my notes. A couple of grey-haired ladies came past and asked if I was "doing a Wordsworth" - writing an ode about daffodils I suppose. I told them about the imminent talk. "Shouldn't you be in a darkened room for such a serious task?" I can't remember how the banter continued but I found myself saying that I might just give a talk on happiness. Later in the day I realised that whilst my script for the beginning was OK, the rest was ill-prepared. I rehearsed it with K and she agreed. Yet my mood of lightness and gaiety or should I say profound happiness, remained undimmed. The talk was scheduled in the upstairs room of a café dedicated to health foods and New Age ideas. As it happened, no one turned up, so the hour was spent chatting with the owner over tea and cake. She asked questions and the agenda was covered. Here is an update on chestnut blossom. The buds appear on the frond in groups of eight. The eight consist of four pairs. Within a pair, one is pink centred and the other is lemon yellow. The same miraculous phenomenon occurs regardless of the main blossom colour of the tree. I saw somewhere a tentative explanation. Apparently the colour changes when fertilisation has taken place and this tells the bees that the nectar has been taken. Can you believe such a thing? 8th JulyI'm just learning how to use these chalks (oil pastels), but was quite pleased at the result. We sat on a rug with a hedge behind us, and I peered over the ripening wheat field (in case you can't recognise it) to view this sc