Tag Archives: snowdrops

Snowdrop Photos and Complaints

Sorry, I’ve had an erratic few days and blogging seems to have suffered. My fingers are still a bit stiff, my Kindle is full, and I’m not well organised. There are many reasons for irregular blogging, and those are just a few of them.

I had an electronic communication from the hospital today. The replacement appointment for the one they failed to complete is in late April. I’m going to be writing again, as they seem to have ignored my other questions. It will be six months after my initial problem that I get seen. I’m not happy about that. I’m even less happy that they haven’t answered my queries. However, I now have some more details to work with and am going to write again.

The photos are from atrip Julia and my sister made to Holme Pierrepont to look at snowdrops. I suppose this is the English equivalent of the Japanese looking a cherry blossom. I didn’t go because I’m anti-social, not able to walk well enough or afraid of germs. Or all three. To be honest, after contracting whooping cough (and the associated other problems) at Christmas and spending a lot of time coughing, gasping and gurgling, I don’t want to put myself in the position of breathing in more germs. Walking round some woodland with a crowd of snowdrop watchers is just too many people for me.

Work again tomorrow, followed by a day off on Wednesday. I really could get used to being retired. Julia has always said that with my laid back approach to labour I would probably find it difficult to notice the difference between work and retirement. Wives can be quite cutting at times.

A Short Dull Post

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If my counting is correct, this post keeps things on target It was a long day yesterday and I didn’t post in the evening, but I had a some posts in hand, which has enabled me to keep on target and reflect on the value of advance planning.

I disgraced myself in the morning by getting Julia to the doctor three minutes late. I thought the appointment was for 8.10 when it was actually for 7.50. In everyday speech that is ten to eight and ten past eight – an easy mistake to make if you aren’t listening to your wife as intently as you should be. Or as intently as she says I should be. Her opinion is that I only listen to her if she talks about coins, medals or food.

This is true – I do only listen when she’s talking about interesting things. Fortunately I didn’t say this aloud or I may have needed a doctor too.

We went to Swineshead and Sibsey after the appointment, two villages in the Lincolnshire Fens. The Fens were not at their best, with it being a generally dull and depressing day. On a bright day, with the famously large skies of the Fenlands (no hills to block the view) and lots of fluffy cloud you can’t beat the Fens. On a grey day there isn’t much to recommend them.

Sibsey War Memorial

The afternoon improved when we dropped down to Peterborough for tea and cake with my father to celebrate his 91st birthday. We were a few days early but it was close enough. I didn’t even mind being beaten at dominoes by Julia. Let’s face it, there is nothing that cake can’t improve. Apart from diabetes.

The snowdrops are starting to show, tempting me into thinking winter is over. In fact, as I know from experience, the worst is yet to come, though we have been remarkably fortunate this year.

Snowdrops at Sibsey

Not Quite Scones – but I’m calling it Number 8 in the series

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We had coffee with blueberry muffins in the Mencap garden this morning as part of my programme of guerrilla snacking. This came as a surprise, as until I needed a word to describe my random intake of sugary calories I didn’t know I had a programme of guerrilla snacking. The coffee came out of a flask and the muffins came from McDonalds. Consequently, I have to admit that quality wasn’t necessarily the keynote of the morning. However, real life can’t be all cappuccino and croissants. Or scones.

I’m calling it Number 8 in the series, just to add some light and shade to the Scone Chronicles. Location was good, company was excellent but muffins just aren’t scones.

Coffee and muffins in the garden

The flowers are doing well, though they could do with more of them. Unfortunately money is so tight that there isn’t any for fripperies like flowers. They are saving for a new cover on the second polytunnel. I’ve just ordered 100 snowdrops. I’m going to plant some at home and give Julia the rest. She’s a lucky woman – blueberry muffins and snowdrops all in one day.

Bamboo in the Mencap garden

Daffodils in the Mencap Garden

Irises at Wilford

I just mentioned this to her. She raised an eyebrow and muttered something I didn’t quite catch.

Her tolerance and my deafness are two important factors in the longevity of our marriage.

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Catkins in the Mencap Garden

Catkins at Wilford

Lichen by the Trent

In the Mencap Garden

Great Tit at Wilford

The birds, as usual, were not very cooperative, but I did get one shot.

Thinking of Snow and Siberia

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Well, we woke up to find a light dusting of snow this morning, which was at least 12 hours before it was forecast.

We then went for breakfast and were interested to see that the snow came back, Some of it was small and speedy, some big and more leisurely. Snow can be quite fascinating and it started me wondering what the study of snow is called.

The Latin for snow starts with a “niv” as I understand it from a superficial knowledge of snowdrops – Galanthus nivalis. My schoolboy Latin was never much to write home about and forty-odd years of disuse haven’t improved it. This is in contrast to my sporting achievements, which have definitely improved with hindsight – also known as “The older I get, the better I was” syndrome.

Nivology seems a bit dull so it was off to Professor Google for an infusion of knowledge. Snow, nix, nivis, as we Latinists say. Nixology definitely sounds wrong. To snow is, ninguo, ninguere (No, I don’t remember why we have all this multiple choice grammar.) Ningology would be OK – being Latin and sounding quite cheerful.

Unfortunately, despite all this linguistic promise, the study of snow is snow hydrology. Yes, snow hydrology. Disappointing, isn’t it. There’s a whole world of Ningology out there, and the scientists decided to call it snow hydrology.

The snow continued to fall intermittently and we even had a few minutes of ice pellets. So far “The Beast from the East” hasn’t been too bad, though this just the beginning, and it looks like Tuesday and Wednesday are going to be the worst days. There were snow ploughs out on the A1 as we went visiting, so it looks like we will at least be properly prepared.

So far this winter in the Midlands has been marked by scaremongering headlines, rather than by actual bad weather. I’m hoping the trend may continue in the next few days.

Some Duck Pond Photographs

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I finally got my act together and found the lead to connect the camera to the computer. It had been hiding in plain sight masquerading as part of a reading lamp. There are just too many bits of wire in the modern house.

Damaged tree – looks like a branch was removed badly

As are the snowdrops

Aconites are out

The flowers are starting to show now. I’m particularly captivated by the aconites because of their multitude of alternative names – aconite, monkshood, wolf’s bane, leopard’s bane, mousebane, women’s bane, devil’s helmet, queen of poisons, or blue rocket. Obviously the ones in the picture aren’t blue rocket, and to be honest I always thought that wolf’s bane was blue too. I may have to look into it a bit more.

Peter Livesey used it as a poison in one of his books – I forget which one – where a wife killed her husband by feeding it to him in a curry.

There’s a case on the internet of a gardener dying from touching wolfsbane. This gives me pause for thought because I used to work with it regularly in one garden I looked after, and never thought to wear gloves. I thought you had to eat it to poison yourself.

Cormorant at Arnot Hill

Cormorant on the duck pond

Information board at Arnot Hill Park

There seems to be something causing a glitch in loading my photos, but I’ve got round it by posting and then editing. If you’ve read part of this post and wondered why it ends abruptly, that is the reason.

I’ll end with a film clip of the Cormorant.

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Life after the Care Farm