Category: in the woods

countryside · crafts & knitting · foxes in my garden · in the woods · wildlife

March: the month of emergings

Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)32 Comments

March is one of those lovely liminal months where seasons are transitioning. Days can start with sharp frosts or sleety rain and the feel that winter still is here, or can be bathed in warm sunshine, drawing delicate scent from early blossom and bright bird song from the tree tops. The change from winter to spring is never a smooth linear transition, it is more like the ebb and flow of waves on an incoming tide, each one advancing just a little higher up the beach and March days feel just like this, each one advancing just a little more towards warmth and regrowth and lengthening daylight.

At the beginning of the month the first hedgerow blossoms were opening on the wild cherry plum trees and here at home on our damson plum tree which looked gloriously beautiful and gave great delight for a week. Now, as the end of the month draws near, it is the turn of the blackthorn blossoms. Blackthorn or sloe bushes flower on bare stems with the new foliage opening after the blossoms have faded. This makes for such a beautiful sight, with white clouds of blossom lining the roads and field margins.

The first green shoots of new leaf growth are gradually opening on many of the trees and aconites, anemones and daffodils are blooming under this gradually greening canopy. And this coming Sunday the clocks go forward an hour, which always brings delight, as the lengthening days mean that light lingers until evening. Even when life feels a little heavy these are all hopeful things that bring small joys.

Knitting is happening too. For a while now I have had a plan to take new photos for the front covers of my early patterns and so I’ve been busy making new sample animals and clothing in currently available yarns. As always these days though progress is slow, but a small step forward is better than none at all. I’ll keep you posted on progress and hope to begin working on some new patterns soon too. In the slow and quiet moments of the day I knit socks, mostly choosing patterns that I have knitted many times before, such as this one ‘Lucky me’ socks by Sofia Capelle.

The more years pass by, the more I realise how much comfort there is to be found in the familiar. The familiar turn of one season to another, the familiar trees along our regular woodland walks, familiar routines day after day, familiar patterns knitted time and time again, so much so that they are in my memory. It will sound boring to some, but it gives me a sense of calm and order and pleasure especially when things outside of my control feel unpredictable and stressful. How about you, do you like your routines or do you prefer the excitement of something new?

Well, I’m off to get Toby a snack, so I will say goodbye for now and leave you with the wish that you have a good few weeks ahead of you where you are, see you in April sometime, J x

PS: (added after getting Toby’s snack), I wanted to give you an update on Katsue the fox. I mentioned in February that she had picked up a new injury which looked quite serious, and I’m very happy to say that she is doing well. She is still limping but moving with much greater ease than she was, and though she is still coming to visit most days she’s no longer encamped in our shed and has returned to her den. I still check the shed daily so see if she’s asleep in there but it’s been over 12 days since she moved out and she is now back to coming for her snacks mostly under cover of darkness.

It seems that she will always have a limp in both back legs now but I’m confident that she is managing well and does not need human intervention (other than small snacks). I feel that intervention should always be kept to a minimum with wild animals and that they should not be removed from their family group and familiar territory unless it is a life threatening situation. It is an enormous relief that she is recovering from her injury well enough to live a normal and very wild life.

 

countryside · foxes in my garden · in the woods · wildlife

February, the patient month

Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)32 Comments

 

If January is a month for hopefulness, then what is needed during February is patience. For there is a promise whispered on the breeze and gently stirring beneath the soil, hinting that change is coming, but not just yet. Because it can feel that February is the most wintry month of all, cold winds, frosty mornings, and almost constant sleety rain have made warm and sunny days feel impossibly distant. But in the truth February is a turning point between seasons, and again I am reminded that it is a privilege to live in a place where the procession of seasons creates a constantly transforming landscape. There is always something new to delight in, and a comforting sense of order and rhythm in the year.

Here at the shabby and monotonous end of winter there is still beauty, even in an unassuming muddy puddle, which is transformed into a perfect pebble-edged mirror by low winter sun, and so reflects a delicate tracery of overhead branches. And the outline of trees with the sun behind them highlights their beautifully intricate structure. Last autumns seed heads still cling to many trees and bushes: hornbeam samaras* hang like paper lanterns from bare branches; swirls of old mans beard, the apt and evocative name given to clumps of fluffy wild clematis seeds, decorate the hedgerows which are still jeweled here and there with hawthorn berries and rose hips. Around the margins of the lake the bulrush heads are exploding in slow motion with the gossamer fluff that carries their seeds away on the slightest breeze. And yet there are also leaf buds gradually unfurling and early blossoms opening, and the snowdrops are a wonderful sight, carpeting patches of ancient, undisturbed woodland and trembling in the cold winter breeze.

*(Samara is a new word to me- it’s the name given to winged tree seeds, ie. those that are windblown such as Maple, Ash, Elm and Hornbeam)

Sometime last week I suddenly became aware that I could hear birdsong again out in the woods. Looking up into the treetops I could see the distinctive shape of a flock of long tailed tits (their tail is as long as their body) and with them larger great tits, as they often travel in mixed flocks. It’s rather beautiful to think that small birds sing their territorial boundary lines, their pleasing song stakes a claim on a small patch of the wood early in the year so that come the warmer weather and breeding season they have secured a good spot in which to raise a family.

Back in the warmth and comfort of home I have been putting the finishing touches to a new pattern – the coats and cardigans for the small 7 inch animals. I have a few corrections still to make but I should be back with a finished pattern next week.

Lastly there has been sad news from the garden. Katsue, the little fox with the broken back leg who has been visiting often since May 2024, has badly injured her other back leg. This happened sometime at the end of December as she missed her visits for 10 days and when she finally showed up she had a large open wound on her right hip and was walking only on 3 legs, mostly her front two and just using her already broken leg for balance. Now the good news is that she is managing and the wound has now healed, but the injury, perhaps a break or dislocation, seems to have left her right back leg unusable and able to bear weight.

She seems to have moved in to our shed – she is able to crawl through a gap under the door and in there she is warm, dry and safe and only a few steps away from a regular meal. She now comes a couple of times a day for food and I’ve been feeding her lots because I’m not sure she can hunt anymore. She’s eating daily meals of cocktail sausages, leftover meat, sunflower seeds, bread, honey and other leftovers. Foxes are great scavengers and they will eat most things that a human can. Anyway, she is managing and choosing to stay close by (though never within reach) and we will continue providing food and a safe place to rest until she chooses to return to her den.

Well, that’s my February, I hope that yours has been good and that you are finding small joys in your days, see you again soon, J x

countryside · crafts & knitting · in the woods

Late November: and musings on water cycles

Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)16 Comments

November has brought some proper English rain: days of constant, steady rainfall from deep grey clouds that form a dense blanket across the sky, reducing the daylight to a semi dark twilight. Murky, miserable, gloomy, overcast, dim are all words that we use for weather like this, and the Scots have their own wonderful word for this kind of weather: dreich

On days like this I marvel at the amount of water that is held aloft in clouds, it can rain non stop for days, causing flooding down here on the land, and yet the density of the cloud above seems to remain constant. It’s estimated that an average cumulus cloud weighs around 500,000 kg and at any one time there is six times more water held in clouds in the atmosphere around the globe than in all of the world’s rivers combined. As I cloud watch on our walks I often think about the constant cycle of water across the planet: from a vaporous state in clouds, to a liquid state in oceans and rivers, and a solid state in the frozen cold places of the world. Of all of the known elements, water is unique because it is the only natural substance that exists in all three states under normal Earth conditions. Isn’t that something marvelous to ponder on cold and wet November day?

Most of our walks take in some form of water, there are the narrow brooks that criss-cross the woodlands, the chalk streams and rivers that flow alongside Waterford Marsh and through Panshanger, the shallow pools left from second world war bombings at Balls Wood and the deep gravel pit extraction lakes at Panshanger, now home to such an amazing array of wildlife.

All summer long the pebbles that line the woodland brooks were baked dry, but now they are once again submerged under a few inches of languid water. The stream strength is not yet enough to wash away the fallen autumn leaves that float on the surface but now the ground is fully saturated one more winter storm will swell the gentle trickle to a rushing, babbling flow. And we no longer crunch our way through the fallen leaves, their dry crackle has been dulled by dampness and underfoot the squelch of mud has replaced the baked earth of summer.

Back home inside is warm and cosy and there is some quiet calm, some gentle-paced sock knitting, and a little tentative pattern writing. I hope to pop back very soon with an updated version of my free knitted holly pattern. It was first written and shared in November 2007 and I have learnt a lot more about knitting since then so have re-written it with different increases methods. I just have to knit a few more samples and photograph them so will share a free PDF file in my next post.

‘Til then I hope life is treating you kindly and you are finding enjoyable moments in your days, see you soon, J x