A Tribute to the Riverside

 

Beside the river. (Photo from personal collection)

A Tribute to the Riverside

Ripples on water, branches wave,
A blackbird hunts some tiny thing.
Fractal patterns, Yellow flag sway,
And mayfly dance on joyous wing.

Escaped and sat beneath the trees,
In dappled sun and reverie.
If I could live inside this dream,
There would be nought to worry me.

The breeze that washes through the leaves
On branches far above my head
Sounds like the sea washing a beach;
I close my eyes and take a breath.

Filled with verdant green filtered air,
Bursting chest, breath held, then exhale;
A slow release of all my cares,
As Dandelion seeds sets sail.

Philip Simons 

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Education and Magpies

 

Bedford's riverside paths are beautiful, unfortunately marred here and there by rubbish. (Photo from personal collection)

The other day, I strolled a path in the town centre. When I heard the call of Swifts (Apus apus) my attention was drawn skyward – I am awed and amazed by these birds. Their streamlined bodies pierced through the air above. Their calls seemed the cries of enduring life. That an animal so small can undertake the journeys they have and face the challenges they do is worthy of admiration. So, yes, when I heard the cries of swifts high in the sky, I stopped and watched them passing over. Like some might watch aeroplane displays, I suppose.

When my attention came back to Earth, my gaze was caught by something less wonderful. A scruffy man pissing against a wall; he was not concealed in any way, there were no bushes or barriers around him. He just stood there splashing piss against that old red brick wall. And that fairly sums up my experiences of this town. I stare skyward at swifts, and find myself feet from the pooling piss of a man. I walk the riverside and wonder at the birds and flowers, and find myself staring also at plastics and metals floating by. I look into the branches of a tree as I stroll, and look down just in time to avoid a small pile of shit. 

Oh. I do hope I am not becoming a misanthrope. But it is hard not to be drawn sadly towards pessimism and anger some days. All the noise and mess that some of us leave behind. And as I am drawn to green and wilder places for a little peace and pleasure, I see that others are drawn there to drink and smoke and fornicate. I see that by the evidence left behind. But, obviously, I am just a visitor to these places, and it is the wildlife that lives there that really faces the challenges we present them, with our lack of consideration and laziness. Some days, I fear there is an unbridged gap between ourselves and these green spaces. Some days, I see hope.

Wilder places – take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints. (Photo from personal collection)

In April of this year, it was revealed that a new natural history GCSE would be added to the school curriculum (The Guardian – New natural history GCSE to focus on protecting the planet). An option I would have excitedly pursued had it been available when I was at school.

Then there are those wonderful home schooling parents who make nature, wildlife, and ecological learning very much a part of their children's education. 

Unfortunately, there is still much old fear, wrapped up,  I believe, in the unknown and misunderstood, that is passed on to children. To be wary of spiders that do not bite, or hateful of animals tarnished by old folkloric beliefs, or scared of mysterious woodlands rather than intrigued. Education in natural history might, hopefully, wash away some old fears and cultivate respect in its place.

So far, the only thing I can see wrong with the natural history GCSE option is that it wasn't available twenty odd years ago. But, aside from my own personal "what-could-have-beens" and "if-onlys", steps like this one seem greatly significant. Not only because it will offer children the opportunities to learn in more detail about their world and the lives they share it with, but also because it speaks to greater future changes in the job market.

It follows that, as education allows these opportunities for greater consideration of our natural world, the careers of tomorrow will be more conservationist and environmentally focused. Our society is still very much driven by making money and concerns about the economy. And so, if future jobs are all about caring for nature, rather than exploiting it, that can only be a good thing. It's a win-win if conservation and green jobs make money, right?

Magpie (Pica pica). (Image source: rspb.org.uk)

When I consider that gap that currently exists between ourselves and the natural world, I think of the magpie. I often see this corvid vilified across social media. Indeed, aside from foxes, it seems to be the animal which most provokes violent response.

Some how, this bird finds itself blamed for the dramatic falls in the populations of  songbird species. Despite studies which reveal magpies have little to no effect on songbird numbers (undertaken by British Trust for Ornithology, cited here by the RSPB, who commissioned this study), they are still made villains. And this "fact" of their being evil predators of our small birds is often used to justify the point of view that they are nothing more than vermin.

Magpies, like other corvids, are intelligent and adaptable birds. Perhaps that is why we dislike them. But they, again like other corvids, have been carrying the weight of our judgements about for centuries. Magpies, crows, and ravens are larger dark birds, not above picking at a carcass. So, they have been associated with death. Therefore folklore has painted them as gothic birds of death. And, yes, we do not like the smart and adaptable animals, the ones that can make their homes easily in our own spaces – we often label them pests or vermin to justify our destructive desires towards them. Easier that than consider our own behaviours and habits, I suppose.

When I hear the harsh cry of a magpie from some tree, I stop and consider it as I do other birds. And I think them beautiful as I do other birds. Just common sense dictates that they are not murderous mass exterminators of our songbirds. They have not mutated and evolved in the last fifty years, nor have they stumbled upon much more efficient methods of predating smaller birds. However, we, human beings, have been intensifying the ways in which we manage land; we have been cutting down trees and planning our infrastructure without consideration for nature and wildlife; and, we have fragmented natural spaces. All this has most definitely presented our songbirds with major challenges that have contributed to their significant declines in the last few decades. 

I hope that an education system which considers our natural world will blow away some of those old and silly fears. I hope that it will bridge the gap that has been developing between ourselves and natural spaces as we have focused our attentions on money making. I hope that future money making will be done through guardianship of the natural world, rather than its exploitation. I hope that a respect for this planet will be rediscovered. I hope that plastics and metals floating in rivers become a less common sight. Yeah, I hope . . .

If you have made it through this slightly meandering piece about where we are now and where education might take us, I thank you for walking this path with me. Just before you go, would please consider supporting this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com.

I resist allowing ad space here, hoping to generate conversation rather than clicks and sales. With the support of readers, I can write freely with my consideration being only for my experiences and research, rather than any commercial and corporate affiliations. 

If you can, please leave a small tip via ko-fi.com, but if that isn't possible, you can help in other ways. Just like, comment, share, and subscribe.

And, thank you!

Aphids, aphids, aphids . . .

 

Poppy (Papaver rhoeas) from the garden. (Photo from personal collection)

Every morning, somewhere between waking up and my first coffee of the day, I go into the garden. I look over my plants, just to check on how they are doing, and how they might have grown since the day before.

There are a number of things that can affect a plant. The weather, for a start. Wind can topple, and too much sun can wilt. Then there are insect and animal visitors.

Poppies again. Apologies. (Photo from personal collection)

A few weeks ago, I noticed that I had some aphids making themselves at home in my wildflowers . . . 

What are aphids?

Aphids are a very small insect that suck sap from plants. Some species – there are a few thousand – specialise in a single plant, others are generalists and can take food from a number of different plants.

They can reproduce asexually, that is, without the need for their eggs to be fertilised, so their numbers can multiply rapidly. In this way, the female produces live aphids. Later on, in autumn, the females will reproduce with males so they can lay eggs that will overwinter, ready for next spring.

The problems

Aphids can reproduce at a speedy rate, and as they suck the sap from the plants upon which they are living, that is going to lead to a greater and greater strain upon the plant. 

Aphids' activity upon a plant can lead to distorted growth, wilting, and their waste, honeydew, can cause mould growth. As well as this, they can be vectors of disease between plants.

Strawberries, chillies, evening primrose; the little garden. (Photo from personal collection)

Aphids and ants

Aphids and ants have a fairly well documented symbiotic relationship. 

Ants take honeydew from aphids, which is a valuable source of energy for the ants. This aphid waste is very sugary, and inspires the ants to farm and protect the aphids.

Aphids are food for a number of natural predators – ladybirds and their larvae, lacewing larvae, and some wasps are a few. However, if ants are present, and they are taking their food from aphids' honeydew, they will protect the aphids from these predators. 

Ants will also escort aphids to new plants as aphid numbers increase. In winter, when aphids have laid their eggs, ants will take those eggs into their own nests to keep them safe.

Back to my garden

Oxeye daisies. (Photo from personal collection)

The aphids have been present in the garden for a little while. And I had noticed that some of the Oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare) were looking a little lacklustre as they bloomed. But, the wildflowers had been planted for the benefit of the wild lives out there in the garden. And, since aphids are part of that ecological landscape, I shrugged with a c'est la vie attitude, and I left them to it.

There have been some ladybirds in the garden and the flowers have been blooming, which in turn have still provided food for bees, which I have seen visiting. I trusted that nature would take care of things.

Yesterday however, in the evening, I went outdoors to check on the plants. As ever, aphids and ants were present on some of the wildflowers. However, I noticed that they were now beginning to populate the strawberry plants. Now, this aroused some feelings which challenged my original laissez faire approach!

The strawberry plants, and the chilli plants with them, are beginnings of an exercise in self-sufficiency. They are experiments in growing food for myself. So, as I endeavour to yield a fairly decent crop of produce, I began to resent the presence of these little sap-suckers.

I do not want to use insecticides. At all. This passion for plants stemmed very much from my passion for pollinators and other wildlife. That will always be a priority, so I simply will not go about spraying chemicals that might do harm to friendly insects visiting the garden.

Yesterday, I undertook some manual "pest" control. Going around the strawberry plants, lifting leaves, and looking under blossoms and fruit heads, I brushed off the aphids I found. Then I removed any leaves that were particularly well populated. I noticed that the ants seemed to resent my activity, as they became quite active themselves.

I will check over the plants again today, and I will probably undertake a similar procedure. I have heard it said that a solution of water and chilli powder will irritate the aphids and inspire an exodus, but I fear this might irritate lives beneficial to the plant too, and to pollinators.

I might invest in a small water pistol or a spray bottle with a decently powerful squirt. Another suggestion I have found across the internet being to go about and simply shoot them from the plants with water.

Whatever the method of control, if that is what you decide to do, it pays to be thorough; aphids are often found on the undersides of leaves or tucked away somewhere between leaves and stems. Also, please do not use insecticides – they are indiscriminate and will do as much harm to pollinators and other garden friendly visitors as they will to any "pests".

Before you go, would you please consider supporting this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com.

I resist allowing ad space here as much as possible, preferring the generation of conversation over clicks and sales. With the support of readers, I can write freely with my only consideration being for my own experiences and research, not commercial or corporate influences. 

If you can, please leave a small donation via ko-fi.com, where you will also find links to other of my writing. You can also like, comment, share, and subscribe – all forms of support are a great boost.

Thank you!

Amazed by Life in the Garden

 

One of my crooked but beautiful poppies. (Photo from personal collection)

Whenever I talk about my interest in gardening and plant life, I often tell people how it all began with my love for wildlife. Animal life just seemed so much more dynamic and interesting to me when I was younger. It wasn't until I was a little older that my consideration for nature grew to encompass plant life and gardening.

I have never cared for worrying over a well-manicured lawn. And I have no interest in planned and perfected tidy gardens. My interest in gardening has very much stemmed from my care and concern for nature. It is one small way in which I can give a little back to something which has given me so much.

The other morning, I watched amazed as a bumblebee, either a White-tailed bumblebee or a Garden bumblebee, I think, visited one of the flowered poppies. That is what it had all been for. All the checking and tending, meeting the needs of the plants as and when they arose.

The flowers of a poppy have no nectar, but they are rich in pollen which provides the bees with essential proteins and fats. 

My poppies have grown in crooked, and I think that there are probably containers out there that are much more "Instagram ready". But I couldn't care less because it was for the bees, and other pollinators, that I sowed the seeds last year.

Yeah, of course, I snap a few pictures, and yes, I share those pictures across my social media. But if nobody but the bees show appreciation for those scarlet flowers, that's just fine with me.

Perfect red petals at the ends of crooked hairy stems, and other hairy little buds ready to burst wide open. (Photo from personal collection)

Poppies are an annual herb. I sowed the seeds last year, and they lived in the soil of my container for a little while. The seeds germinated last autumn, and the plants spent the last year making themselves at home in the container. They have faced challenges; some of the storms of the last year left them a little battered. But they revived, for the most part. They retained enough strength that they began to flower this month.

Once these sunnier months are over, I will collect the seed heads, and sow those seeds in hope of another crop next year. Though, perhaps I will keep some of those tasty seeds back for myself!

Though my interest in plant life stemmed from my passion for nature and wildlife, I have discovered a real appreciation for plants themselves. They are incredibly resilient and strong. I have checked over plants in the garden, thinking that they were beyond saving, looking brown and shriveled, only to later find them looking green and verdant again a day or so later. They have taught me that, given the chance, life will endure.

As for the part they play in the wider ecological landscape, they are at the centre of life on this planet. Of course they are. They are vital to all forms of life on land. They provide food, clean air, materials for shelter, medicine, and even mental wellbeing. Yeah, they have definitely earned my appreciation, and I stop amazed, just to see how they have grown.

Before you go, can I ask that you please consider supporting this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com.

I resist allowing ad space, hoping to generate conversation in this space, rather than clicks and sales. With support from readers, I can write freely with my considerations being only for my own experiences and research, as opposed to obligations to commercial and corporate sponsors.

If you can, leave a small donation via ko-fi.com. And you can also like, comment, share, and subscribe to support this space.

Thank you, readers and supporters!

 

A Riverside Walk in May

 

The view from atop a fallen tree. (Photo from personal collection)

It seems to me that a quiet walk is one of the best ways to clear the mind. And, though I don't like to think of myself as a misanthrope, the more secluded the path, the better. It's just my way of getting away from the noise of humanity. That's where most of my problems come from. So yeah, the appeal of being alone is part of my love for nature. And yesterday I went for a walk beside the river, Great Ouse, some of that river which passes through my hometown, and immersed myself in the peace. And I came back delightfully tired and refreshed.

When I am out in nature I am no longer caught up in the nets of monetary, familial, and other day-in-day-out struggles. And though life and death, and everything in between, happens out there in nature, I find quiet there for myself mostly. The struggles of the birds are not my struggles, and I can selfishly enjoy their song. Of course, in return, I try to do what I can for those winged and feathered creatures. To do that though, I must go into those green spaces where trees and flowers grow. Now, after reading a little into scientific explanations of the peace that we derive from nature, I understand something of why I find so much out there in those quieter places. But often I just get lost in the romance and the poetry of a natural scene, rather than the scientific explanation. That's for later, when I turn to the guide books and the internet.

Riverside view - water reflecting sky. (Photo from personal collection)

I stopped for a while, beside that river, and I sat, just to see and hear whatever was there. Now and then, ripples would appear on the surface, and I would watch a while to see if something surfaced. When nothing did, my attention came back to the world above water. Songs were being sung from trees all around me. A Blackbird (Turdus merula) sang a slow and rich melody, while a Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) called out its name in a two note repetition. From the opposite side of the river came another two note call - a Great tit (Parus major) ringing out a song. And, adding its voice to the choir, a Green woodpecker (Picus viridis) called out its slightly mocking laugh.

Mayflies, part of the ancient group Palaeoptera, which also includes dragonflies, danced above the surface of the river, and along the embankment. They moved gracefully up and down, as though on invisible wires. On the opposite bank, a tree grows out over the water, and light reflected from the surface of the river played upon its bark. I turned my head, and a Woodpigeon (Columba palumbas) was busily and quietly plucking blossoms in a tree not too far away.

And then there was me, not too far away from all the grey and glass of the town centre, but far enough that people were a distant background noise, and none were in sight for a while. It was a cool and pleasant afternoon.

 Fishing line and floats found discarded. (Photo from personal collection)

Sometimes, when I am out walking, I find myself thinking it a shame there aren't more people out amongst the trees and by the river. However, then I notice that, rather than flowers adding their vibrant colours to the grass verges, it is plastic and aluminium that poke out from amongst the green. Or I stumble upon a pile of unwanted odds and ends. Or, as yesterday, I find fishing line and floats left by the water. I hadn't planned on any litter picking, but I found it quite easy to bag up the offending litter and dispose of it properly. I am that odd sort of person who can find random bits and bobs have found their way into his backpack, and an empty sandwich bag that had no purpose being in my bag served as an ideal place to keep the line before I could dispose of it.

I disposed of the line fairly easily. And, as I said, given that I had not gone out with the intention of doing any litter picking, and I had not taken the line out there myself, it really rather raised the question as to what stopped the fishers from disposing of the line themselves. I mean, given the ease with which I was able to undertake the task myself, I can only come to the conclusion that they were either inconsiderate, lazy, or stupid. Perhaps all three. But maybe I am being mean, and some rare emergency pulled them from their fishing and they were in a rush, and therefore forgetful . . .

Anyway, that was really the only mar on the Spring riverside walk. There was other rubbish, of course, and some of that rubbish was depressingly close to bins - we love to pat ourselves on the back for being at the very tippy top of the food chain, and embrace that position to excuse our disgusting laziness. Some of us, anyway. The rubbish is a problem. Maybe next time I will pack some plastic bags and gloves into my backpack, so that I can give something back to those stretches of path that have given me all they have.

Before you go, can I ask that you consider supporting this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com.

I resist allowing ad space here, hoping to generate conversation, rather than clicks and sales. With support from readers, I can write freely, with my only concern being that I write with consideration for my own experiences and research, and not with the binds of commercial and corporate influence.

If you can, please make a small donation through ko-fi.com, where you will also find more of my writing. But, if you cannot leave a tip at this time, you can also like this post, leave a comment, or share it on your preferred social media platform. And, if you really like what you have read, you can even subscribe!

Thank you for reading and being a great supporter!

On writing about nature

 

A poppy on the verge of blooming. (Photo from personal collection)

Sometimes I look back at my writing I am very proud. At other times, I look over it with a much more critical eye. Sometimes, for example, I wonder if I am a bit of a rambler, wandering here and there without clear maps and road signs. But then, some of this writing is supposed to be romantic musings and ponderings - a little something of what happens to me when I go out into nature. I am almost as fascinated by nature's affect on people as I am by nature itself. I think that this blog, in my humble opinion, is a collection of really good content and, I hope, writing. And I would love to see it reach a greater readership.

Coming here to write about my experiences in nature allows me the opportunity to understand those experiences better. A great deal of the time, I go outdoors and do not recognise what I see, hear, smell, touch, or taste. But then, intent on documenting what I find, I will snap a picture or make a note. Back at home, I will turn to the internet, and the guide books on my shelves, and do the research, trying to make sense of my experiences out there. Then I come here, to this space, and I write it all out. Hoping that this writing will find an audience, I therefore want both the writing and research to be as good as possible. So, I am made careful and considerate in my discoveries because I don't want to fail anyone that might read this.

Rainwater in tyre tracks; Stevington, Bedfordshire. (Photo from personal collection)

To be honest, my next great goal for my writing is for it to reach a wider audience, a greater readership. I am grateful for everyone that already opens up these posts. And I have noticed those that regularly pop a little thumbs up or a heart under the links as they are shared across social media. But, of course, it is the ambition of many that they would see the thing they love grow. And I do love writing. I would love for it to find more people, for it to generate conversation, and, yes, to make some money. It's the thing that I do best, I think, and, even if it is the root of all evil, I have discovered that money is a necessary evil.

So, there are a few little projects jotted down in my notebooks, there are seeds waiting to be planted, and there are footpaths I still plan to walk. And, along the way, I will most likely take a few snaps and make a few notes. Then, back at home, I will do the research I need to do to understand what I have found. Fascinated by these discoveries, the desire to write and present my findings will bring me back to this space. And hopefully, some of the verdant power, the scents of wild roses bloomed, the sound of robin song bursting from treetops, will find their way into these pages. And with that, a little science and information to demystify what we find out there. From there, yes, I want to nurture the writing and make something profitable of this endeavour. But it's not huge amounts of money and recognition I seek. I don't want adverts and links in this space, littering these pages, like green verges covered in gaudy plastic and aluminium rubbish - I want to do this honestly and on my own terms. Or not at all.

My container of poppies. (Photo from personal collection)

I am fairly certain that my limited success thus far is my own doing. There is plenty that I am not doing, and plenty that I do not understand. I could be much more aggressive in my self-promotion. I could do a lot more research into how I could fill these pages with key words that would make them much more likely to pop up in search engine results. I could allow ads to use these pages as a space to entice readers to click and buy and click and buy and click . . . But I don't want to do that. I want the writing to be good, not just content that sells. I strive for integrity. 

I want to bring you more observations, experiences, and discoveries. To do that, I need your support. Please, share this page, or another from this blog that you enjoyed or found informative. If you regularly click through to these pages from social media links, cut out the middle man and subscribe. If you enjoy a read, click on that little like button at the end of the article. And, if you can, send a tip to the writer (links and info at the bottom of this piece). I would ask that you bear these requests in mind, not just when you read this blog, but when you read anything that you think is well-written and well-researched. We need to support those writers, because otherwise we will just end up with content and clickbait.

Before you go, can I ask that you please consider supporting this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com.

I resist allowing advertisements here as much as possible, preferring the generation of conversation over the generation of clicks and sales. In this way, every piece can be written freely with consideration only for the writer's experiences and research, rather than commercial and corporate influences.

If you can, please visit ko-fi.com where you can leave a small donation, and also find other examples of my writing.

A Garden With A View

 

European garden spider (Araneus diadematus) drinks from a water droplet in the garden. (Photo from personal collection)

Begrudgingly, I live five minutes walk from a town centre. It is a setting of red bricks and grey concrete. On Saturday and Sunday mornings, splashes of puke and discarded takeaway containers dot the pavements. Plastic wrappers and aluminium cans just as likely to colour grass verges as wildflowers. But there is the garden . . .

The mornings are informed by coffee aroma, bird calls, and flowers. Recently, the poppies (Papaver rhoeas) started to bloom, petals like vibrant drops of blood, or a saucy lipstick shade. The Spring sun  has been coaxing the plants into flower. And, as rich dark coffee filters through paper, the mornings are a tableau of visiting birds, those pretty flowers, and the squeal and strain of concrete urban noise.

A blackbird (Turdus merula), a female, has caught my attention recently. She visits my makeshift bird bath for tentative sips, more often than not hopping into the water afterwards. She splashes about and scratches at her head with one of her feet. Then she'll visit the peanuts and oat mix I leave on the ground for her, and whoever else might fancy the food. She is braver than some of the other garden visitors and seems to mind my presence less. 

Woodpigeons (Columba palumbas) visit and, despite their being larger than other birds in the garden, they are some of the most skittish visitors. They absolutely will not land and partake of anything on offer if I am out there. From a window I might be allowed to watch one of them, but even then they circle food and water warily. They draw close, take a beak full, and move away again.

The pigeons are often thought of as dirty and grey things, but this isn't quite fair. The Woodpigeon might just seem grey at first glance, but their chests have a little splash of purple, and around their smart white collars there are patches of slightly iridescent green. Their plump and proud breasts belie their timid hearts. Even their relatives, the Feral pigeons (Columba livia), common to many a town and city centre, can be quite colourful. And their often unkempt appearance and poor condition has much more to do with how our own inefficient waste disposal impacts upon the environment and wildlife. Perhaps their appearance reflects more poorly on us than it does them. Those scrappy little underdogs are just doing the best they can with what they have.

A timid Woodpigeon (Columba palumbas) visits the peanut and oat mix. (Photo from personal collection)

Coffee cup empty and a desire to get outside, I go and check on my plants. My little garden is expanding and I, at the time of writing, now have six pots containing chilli pepper plants, three potted strawberry plants, and a variety of wildflowers for pollinators and any other little lives that might benefit from their presence. It is not the most impressive garden anyone could set their eyes upon, but it suits me just fine for now. Though I do hope to expand further as time goes by - their is a pride in bringing a plant to flower and fruit that is quite addictive. And, oh, then to see bees, butterflies, and beetles benefit from the plants of the garden!

Last year, I introduced a single potted strawberry plant to the garden, and that parent plant provided me with two other plants, as well as delicious fruits. I was proud to find that they survived their overwintering, snuggled up quite cosily beneath a blanket of straw during those cold months. They have returned this year, green and strong. Flowers come before the fruits, and a number of blossoms have appeared on two of the plants. The third, the smaller of the three, shows no flowers yet, but is green and vibrant. And I am proud of that little verdant plant; through the winter it looked unwell to my eye and, at one point, I thought it was dead. It had looked like nothing more than a little brown stump of a shoot to me.

The chilli pepper plants are a first for me. A little research lead me to understand that they fair better in glasshouses before being planted outdoors. However, without a glasshouse or proper propagators, I decided instead to use a pair of transparent buckets to cover the pots in which I planted the seeds. Then I placed them in the sunniest spots of the garden. And, so far, it seems to have worked. Of course, as I said, this is a first for me, and these are early days . . . But the seedlings are promisingly green and healthy in appearance.

My little garden - strawberry plants, chilli pepper plant seedlings, and Evening primrose at the centre. Those vibrantly red poppies in the background. (Photo from personal collection)

I quietly advocate for gardens that are as wild as possible. Wildflowers are where my own interest in gardening began a few years ago. Or, to be more accurate, my interest began with a concern for the pollinators, their importance in that big wide wonderful ecological web, and the trouble that they were in, and still are unfortunately. From there, my endeavours increased and grew to encompass a seed of interest in self sufficiency. So, amongst the flowers for birds and bugs, there are fruits for myself too.

Yes, though these efforts and these plants are for the lives that call the garden home, they are also for me. And they not only satisfy my health in terms of cultivating fruits and food that I know are as fresh and organic as I know how to produce. They also calm the mind.

It has been discovered, through EEG measurements (Electroencephalography) that when human beings see fractal patterns in nature brainwaves indicate a relaxed state. These patterns made up of smaller and smaller patterns, these fractals, are ever present in nature. They are found in flowers, in snowflakes, and trees - just a few examples. The closer you look at the patterns, the more patterns are revealed.

Why do these fractals produce such a reduction in stress? By as much as about 60%? Induce a relaxed state of being?

It is thought that, put simply, human beings feel so much calmer in the presence of nature's patterns because we evolved alongside those patterns in nature, and so our brains are wired in such a way that we process this visual information quickly. *

So, as I gaze into flowers and leaves, and I feel calm and peace descend, there's a scientific explanation for that!

There's also those little antidepressant bacteria in the soil. And, oh, just the poetry and romance of being around nature. 

Yesterday, in the evening, I sat for an hour, just watching what took place in the garden. I watched the poppies wave in the breeze, their delicate petals already bruising and ruining. I listened to sparrow calls and train wheels squealing on tracks. The calling of a collared dove in the distance, the calls of children playing out there somewhere too. The smells of food cooking wafting from some neighbour's flat window. But, yes, through the urban sounds and smells, there are the birds and flowers.

The garden is a collage of House sparrow calls, the flap and clap of a startled Woodpigeon's wings, and a Magpie's harsh voice from a branch somewhere behind me. A little splash and my attention is drawn to the bird bath - the female blackbird is bathing. I take in the plants I have grown , the birds and bees invited by food and flowers, and just feel calm. And I feel quiet pride. 

A good garden, perhaps especially when it is situated in the middle of a concrete town or city, is a blessing.

* If you would like to read a more detailed description of fractals in nature and their impact on our wellbeing, you can do so here, in this article from The Atlantic (26/01/2017).

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Getting back to normal . . .

 

(Image source: bbc.com)

Nature doesn't care about our egos, and it doesn't care about money in the bank, or political ideologies. Nature really doesn't care about anything except that which is real. That is to say, that which has come into being, and passed, according to the rules and forces of Physics, Chemistry, and Biology - rules and forces to which, sorry, we are bound by, you know, the Universe.

So, as we take to Twitter - or whichever social media platform is your favourite online space for adding to your anxiety - and get lost in the comments, Nature is going to follow the rules and forces to which she is bound. 

The last couple of years were a natural clarion call; a dramatic example of what can happen when we force our way into the wild, and engage in poor animal husbandry. But then, this is not the first time we have heard such a call . . .

Back in 2003, the SARS outbreak was identified as having originated in animals. In fact, the majority of emerging infectious diseases originates in domestic or wild animals. One of the lessons learned from the 2003 SARS outbreak was that "animal husbandry and marketing practices seriously affect human health". (SARS - How a Global Pandemic Was Stopped, by WHO).

So, just under twenty years later, with another coronavirus causing fear and social disruption, one might be left scratching their heads as to why we weren't better prepared. And, according to the writing on the wall, this is not going to be the last time a pandemic will disrupt our lives. Which makes the keenness of "getting back to normal" confusing. Well, not entirely confusing - commercial, corporate, and political ideology are usually at the root of it.

The behaviour and movements of species on this planet are changing with the climate (National Geographic - Half of All Species on the Move, April 2017), which means that species are going to be meeting each other that may not have done so before. This, in turn, allows for greater opportunity of zoonotic transmission of diseases, and greater risk of future pandemics.

In this article from Nature (28 April 2022), we find projections that model how "climate change could drive more than 15,000 new cases of mammals transmitting viruses to other mammals" because of these increased opportunities for transmission due to climate change. One way or another, it seems, normal is going to be something quite new.

It doesn't matter which side of whatever debate you are on when it comes to this latest coronavirus, or its consequences and government handling of the crisis - all of us would rather not have to endure them. So, if not for the planet and the natural world itself, we need to consider the consequences of our behaviours, and how we interact with the natural world and the species that live there. 

None want for anyone to live in constant fear and anxiety. But Nature doesn't care how much we rant and rave on Facebook; we are, none of us, bigger than the laws of Nature and the Universe. So, we can accept what we are seeing and evolve to meet the challenges, to consider our impact on the planet and how we are infringing upon wild places, or we can exist in denial and, perhaps, in another twenty years, if not sooner, we'll be crippled by another virus.

If not for the natural world itself, then surely in the name of our own interests we can change our ways . . .

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*As well as the articles referred to in the above piece, I also consulted Dr Hammond's Covid Casebook by Dr Phil Hammons, Private Eye, in the research for this post.

Inspiring words . . .

 

A pair of titles from a self-sufficiency series, titles that occupy my shelves. (Photo from personal collection)

When I need information or inspiration, I often immerse myself between the pages of a book. Anyone that knows me - a short list - could probably tell you my two big loves are nature and books. Both of these loves allow one the opportunity to see the world from the perspective of others. In books, it is the viewpoint of the narrator or experts - the book lover really is a practitioner of empathy, though not all are highly skilled in the area. For nature lovers, it is the opportunity to see this world is not ours alone - it is humbling to consider what a blip humanity is in the wider history of the planet. 

Jostling for space on my shelves are a number of books on self-sufficiency; from growing plants to keeping animals. Now, when it comes to keeping animals, as someone who doesn't eat them, as someone able to exercise care for lives beyond my own species, I have uneasy feelings about animals being kept domestically or as resources to be exploited. However, the undeniable truth is that domestic animals exist, and one can engage with that fact with either cruelty or kindness in their hearts and minds. I strive for the latter.

How I would love a small patch of land in this patch work planet of greens, blues, and greys. A place where I could grow vegetables, fruits, and flowers. A space a little bit wild too, where birds, bees, butterflies, and other little lives felt safe and free. With chickens, rescued from, perhaps, some grim past. And I would take up an egg or two, when they were laid, and cook up a fragrant meal using herbs, fruits, and veg from my little garden.

At the moment, I have a few chili pepper plants and some strawberry plants on the go, also, a selection of flowers, planted for the pollinators, in an urban garden. This garden is a combination of birdsong and trains screeching along railway lines not too far away. Not the ideal, but you take what you have, and go from there. I have a little patch of green in the middle of concrete grey for now.

My interest in self-sufficiency and gardening springs forth from my love of nature and wildlife. As I potter around the garden, repurposing old buckets as plant pots, building makeshift bird baths out of dishes and stones, there is a desire to disconnect from the noise of buying and selling. A desire to reconnect with the natural and the wild.

As my fingers dig into compost and soil, mycobacterium vaccae filling my nostrils and my head with their antidepressant qualities, I am peaceful. As I look up from considering my collection of plants, seeing a female blackbird make use of the bird bath I put together, I am more proud of that achievement than I am of any sale I ever made. As I taste the fruits, literally taste the fruits, of my labours, I am satisfied by an accomplishment I share with peoples who lived thousands and thousands of years ago, closer to the beginnings of us and our societies. 

You never know what might happen when you take a peek inside a book, I suppose . . .

This Sunday, why not take up a book, and see what happens?

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