Archive for the ‘Spring’ Category

The driveway to Spott House: daffodils and views beyond

April 11, 2019

Over the past 2 weeks, there has been a proliferation of daffodils around East Lothian – on the approaches to towns and villages, at roundabouts, on the edges of woods and in gardens (including my own) around Dunbar. My wife returned from her Wednesday walking group outing to tell me of a spectacular display of daffodils on the driveway up to Spott House (good photos), the residence of the owner of the local Spott Farm. The next day was bright and sunny, so we returned to capture the scene. The two photos below are looking up the driveway, from the left hand side and then the right hand side. The trees are still bare, so the daffodils have no competition in the colour stakes with the green leaves which will appear later. The starkness of the trees in fact enhances the brilliant yellow of the daffodils, although the tree trunks along the edges of the driveway are tall, slim and elegant.

Looking up the driveway to Spott House (Click on all photos to enlarge)
Looking up the driveway to Spott House

There had been rain that morning and this had left most of the daffodils with pearl-like drops of rain on them. The two close up shots below – from the front and the back of the flowers – show the translucent quality of the outer leaves, which are paler compared to the brighter yellow. The sun on the first photo makes the delicate raindrops sparkle on the flower head.

Raindrops on the daffodils

In the second photo below, I like the way that the stem behind the rain-spotted leaf is like a shadow and the natural structure of the flower head is something that a human designer or engineers might be proud of. Again the sun helps to give a wonderful sheen to the silk-like texture of the leaves.

Rain on the back of a daffodil head

There are superb views across the countryside from this driveway. The next photo shows the view to the west and you can see that the daffodils are now in full bloom and are complemented by the background of an oil seed rape field which is just turning yellow. When the daffodils fade, the field behind will be a huge swathe of even brighter yellow.

Daffodils, trees and ripening oil seed rape near Spott House

The next photo shows a view of Doon Hill from the driveway. The hill is famous for its neolithic settlement and its proximity to the site of the Battle of Dunbar in 1650. In the photo, you can see the gorse bushes on the hill which are also yellow at this time of year.

Doon Hill seen from Spott House Driveway

From this location, you get a superb view over to Dunbar and you can see how the town has expanded in recent years with the building of hundreds of new houses. On the right hand side, just next to the trees, is Dunbar Parish Church and our house is down the hill from that church.

Looking over Dunbar from Spott House driveway

The final view is looking down the driveway, which gives a splendid view of the trees and the daffodils on either side. In the distance, the hill you can see is North Berwick Law (good photos) which dominates that area of East Lothian. So we enjoyed a fine walk on a Spring morning with invigorating views and an entrancing display of daffodils.

Looking towards North Berwick Law from Spott House
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Spring tide in Dunbar and Caroline Jackman’s prints

March 24, 2019

Two days before the full moon this week, we had a huge tide in Dunbar, with the waves ripping along the coast and smashing into the rocks nearby. From my house, I could see that the waves were performing Fosbury Flops over the harbour wall, so I went along to try to capture the biggest of them. When I got to the harbour, the water was almost to the top of the main harbour, with the occasional splash along the walkway. I was standing opposite the large harbour wall which protects it from the worst of the elements. It is quite a long wall and the waves were coming over at various points, so I had to be quick – or lucky – to capture the action. In the photo below, the sun caught the wave as it leapt up into the sky above the wall and the wave looks as if it has merged with the clouds behind it. There was quite a severe undulation in the water in the harbour and at times the water rose to nearly the top of the stairs that you can see below the harbour wall.

Pink wave over the harbour wall in Dunbar (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The next photo captures a double over-the-wall splash – synchronised wave leaping. There is still a hint of pink in the waves and I like the variety of blues in the clouds above. What these photos do not show is the noise of the waves hitting the wall and pouring down the other side, on to the steps of the wall, then on to the walkway and then into the harbour itself.

Double action waves at Dunbar harbour

Looking back at earlier blog posts and identifying previous photos of spectacular tide events at Dunbar harbour, I found the photo below – from 2010. This was taken in the summer or early autumn, as the dinghies and yachts are still in the harbour. It is impressive how the waves completely dominate the scene and make the yachts look smaller. Meanwhile, in this photo you can see a group of male and female eider duck, who swam nonchalantly up and down the harbour, ignoring the action above them. The ducks have the splendid scientific name of Somateria Mollissima, which sounds as if it could be an Italian opera.

2 huge masses of seawater over the harbour wall

As a Xmas present, my wife’s sister and partner gave us a Caroline Jackman print as a present. It now hangs on the wall in the room where I write. The print – photo below – has very striking lines on the bird itself and on the foliage surrounding it. There is also an abstract quality to some of the print e.g. in the patterns on the leaves and on the bird’s back. The use of colour here – in clearly defined blocks – gives the image an unusual effect. I also think that there is a wonderful flow to the print which takes your eye both down the bird and down its subtle green environment. The more you look at this print – as I do daily – the more patterns you see. It is a very impressive piece of art and a very welcome present.

Caroline Jackman print

Caroline Jackman sent me some of her other work, one of which is featured below. I admired this work because of the delicacy of the colours and the vibrancy in the painting, both in the strutting?dancing? cockerel and in the streamer-like lines in the background. This is a vivacious, multi-coloured cockerel, with flamboyant tail feathers perhaps being used to entice females of the species to mate with him. There’s also a surreal quality to the background, as if this cockerel is so smart that he is walking above the clouds. This is a very stylish painting which demonstrates the range of this consummate artist’s vision, skills and talent.

Painting by Caroline Jackman

Bia Bistrot restaurant and cycling against the wind

March 18, 2019

We’ve now been twice to the excellent Bia Bistrot restaurant in Edinburgh. The name is intriguing and its origins lie in the background of the owners and chefs. Roisin (pr Rosheen) is Irish and she provides the Bia which is Irish Gaelic for food. Matthias is French and Bistrot is a French form of bistro. Their philosophy is to provide customers with “good food in a bistro atmosphere” and they certainly do that. The restaurant is situated just off Holy Corner in Edinburgh’s Morningside area. The name Holy Corner originates from the 4 churches which are situated on or near the crossroads on Morningside Road. So to the food in Bia Bistrot. Forget about good food which the restaurant offers, this is very high quality food at very reasonable prices, especially at lunch time. There is a daily set menu at lunch time which offers customers 2 courses for £10 and 3 courses for £12. Given the location of the restaurant – Morningside is often seen as quite posh – and the quality of the food, this is amazing value. On our last visit, 2 out of the four of us choose this menu and were not disappointed. One of the dishes which is not on the regular menu but is part of the daily specials from time to time, is (photo below) Gressingham duck terrine & raspberry dressing. This is a dish that looks good when it is laid in front of you but it’s when you taste it that its appeal rises from good to superb. Sometimes when you go to good restaurants, the lunch menu is cheaper but the portions can be meagre. This is certainly not the case with Bia Bistrot.


An attractive and tasty starter in Bia Bistrot (Click on all photos to enlarge)

I chose a dish off the main menu, the Cod fillet, saffron potatoes, crayfish and chorizo bisque and the dish itself matches your expectations when you read the ingredients. It’s also wonderful to look at as in the photo below – enlarge for best effect. There’s a lot of talk these days about food porn i.e. people taking more time to photograph their food and sending it out via social media, than it takes to eat the food. In this restaurant, the eating is the real reward as you enjoy a delicious combination of fresh ingredients. The photos were sent to me by Matthias. The service in Bia Bistrot is friendly, attentive but not intrusive and the food is of a very high quality. Everyone we know who has gone to the restaurant sings its praises, so if you are in the area, be sure to book ahead.

Attractive and delicious cod dish at Bia Bistrot

For the past 2 weeks, we’ve had strong to gale force winds almost every day and the early spring flowers such as the crocuses in a previous post, have been battered relentlessly. As far as cycling goes, I left my lighter road bike in the garage and went out on my mountain bike, which is heavier but more stable in the wind. There is lots of advice on the web about cycling against the wind e.g. here but much of it is stating the obvious, such as checking the direction and strength of the wind before you go out. Cycling against the wind comes in two forms. The most straightforward – and the hardest – is cycling into the wind. When you are having to cycle down a hill just to keep going, it’s you and the bike against the wind – a battle that one of you is going to win. There’s no time to look at the brilliant green of the emerging crops in the fields in spring around Dunbar or to admire the freshness and shiny undulations in a newly ploughed field. The second form is not as hard but can be the most dangerous. This is when the wind is coming at you from the side. There is a steep hill going down to Pitcox farm and the “big hoose (house)” (good photo), and this can be an exhilarating ride, but in very strong winds there is a need to anticipate the gaps in the hedges which line the fields, as the wind surges through and can knock you across the road. There are also two joys of cycling against the wind. The first is that you can hear the wind coming against you but also you can hear it whooshing through the trees at the road side. The poet Longfellow wrote
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.

A new word to me is Psithurism which is the sound of the wind through the trees – the P is silent and it is obviously onomatopoeic, as when you pronounce each syllable slowly, you can hear the wind. The second joy is at the turning point in the cycle ride and you get what my pal John calls “a blaw hame (blow home)”. This your reward for the previous struggle against the wind and you can hurtle along the road with impunity.

Historic photos of the harbour and flowering honeysuckle

May 31, 2018

Having substituted local history research for my previous academic research since I retired, I have been fascinated by some of the material which has been given to me – some of it by former school pals, some by a girlfriend from my teenage years, and some by people on the Lost Dunbar Facebook site, of which I am a member. I joined the site to get material for my research on my home town of Dunbar in the 1950s. This is the only site to which I make a contribution, despite many requests from potential friends, some of whom are close relatives. I know that many people get joy from posting on Facebook, but it is not for me. One of my present roles is to maintain the website of Dunbar and District History Society. Interestingly, when I designed the site, with the help of a student from Dunbar Grammar School – my alma mater – I was told that websites were rather old-fashioned and that Facebook sites were much more popular – because of their interactivity. Given that the Lost Dunbar site already provides a local history forum for Dunbar in the form of photographs posted and commented on, there was no point in creating another one. What I have done, is post some photos on Lost Dunbar and directed people to see and read more on the History Society website. The site statistics show that this has been a success.

I recently posted two photographs of Dunbar Harbour (good photos) i.e. the main or Victoria Harbour, built in the 1830s. This succeeded the original Cromwell Harbour or Old Harbour as it became known. The first photo is of women – and a solitary man – gutting, basketing and barrelling a huge mound of herring. The photo is probably taken in the 1920s, when the herring fishing was at its peak on the east coast of Scotland. This was very hard work, with the women – both young and old – spending long hours gutting the fish. The smell must have been terrible and the work was done in all weathers. The women and girls who did this job are often affectionately – and rather patronisingly – called fisher lassies. Gutting the herring was done with very sharp knives and accidents were common. There was no health and safety restrictions in those days. In the photo, the women are mainly sitting on upturned baskets and the herring would be transferred from the baskets behind the women to the barrels you can see to the left. Packing a barrel was a skilled job as the fish had to be layered correctly. This must have been a socially off-putting task as, given the washing facilities available to these women in the 1920s, it must have been impossible to get rid of the smell of fish off their bodies. While the fisher lassies are celebrated in song (video), these women were clearly exploited, given the filthy conditions and the low wages.

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Gutting and barrelling herring at Dunbar Harbour (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The second photo was probably taken in the late 19th or early 20th century. It comes from a book entitled Views of Dunbar which was published by W Black of 126 High Street, Dunbar which is now the John Muir Birthplace. There is no date inside and no indication of where the photos originated. The photos in the book may have been based on a series of postcards of Dunbar, which were common in this period. It is certainly a fascinating scene and it was entitled The New Harbour, as the Victoria Harbour may well have still been called at the time. In the foreground, you can see the traveller/gypsy caravans. These were known as vardos and came in a range of designs. In the harbour, there is a boat with a funnel. Local experts tell me that this was not a fishing boat, as there are no letters or numbers on the boat. It is likely to be a trading vessel e.g. a tattie boat, carrying potatoes up and down the coast. Behind the boat, you can see the buildings of the Battery Hospital which was built in the 1860s as an isolation hospital for those with contagious diseases. The Battery has recently been transformed and I posted a feature on this here. You can see more historic photos of Dunbar harbour on the Dunbar and District History Society  Resources section for April and May 2018.

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Dunbar Harbour in the 1890s/1900s

May is the colourful month, with a succession of plants and bulbs producing brilliant displays. Just as the daffodils give way to the tulips, and the pansies and polyanthus start to lose their stature and beauty, the honeysuckle in my garden provides a startling new burst of colour. My honeysuckle  – proper name Lonicera – has profited from my extensive pruning last autumn and there are many more flowers this year than last. The name Lonicera was given to the honeysuckle in honour of the 16th century botanist Adam Lonicer. The name of the plant comes from the ability insects to suck honey from the plant i.e. the le at the end is a diminutive. Thus the bees do not suckle (as in breastfeeding in humans and animals) but take the pollen from the plant.

I took photos of the honeysuckle flowers on two consecutive days – one sunny, one rainy. The first photo shows the brilliant purple flower with its white extension – the female part of the flower – and the antenna which contain the honey/pollen of which the bees are so fond. What I particularly liked about this photo is the shadow of the flower below, which resembles a wheel-like contraption.

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Honeysuckle flower and its shadow

In the second photo, I managed to capture a bee feeding on the elongated white and yellow extension from the flower. The bee gives a magnificent display of gently stroking the very thin elements and hovering in the air.  Note also the shadows in this photo and the great range of colours on show.

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Bee feeding on a honeysuckle flower

Seeing the wings reminded me of Richard Thomson’s great song “Beeswing” – below.

 

The next two photos were taken the next day, after a short period of rain. In the first photo, the close-up of the flower captures the tiny droplets of water that have clung to the plant. On looking at it again, I though that it appeared to have been affected by frost – or dipped in some sugary substance.

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Honeysuckle flower head after the rain

The second photo shows both the flowers and the leaves with the raindrops still on them. I like the wide variety of shapes here, with the purple and white flowers appearing to be reaching out or displaying their wares to passing bees. I went out to the same spot and hour later and the plants were completely dry, having shed the water or absorbed it or let it evaporate in the late afternoon sunshine. We have not had the usual strong westerly winds this month, so the honeysuckle display goes on, with more flowers emerging fully each day, compensating for those which are past their prime and starting to wither. The poem The Wild Honeysuckle begins “Fair flower, that dost so comely grow” and I could not agree more.

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Rain splashed honeysuckle

John Threlfall exhibition and more spring flowers

May 9, 2018

The latest exhibition at Waterston House in Aberlady features the work of John Threlfall who is a very well-respected wildlife artist. I included John’s work in a joint exhibition on the blog in 2016. This is another display of the work of a high quality artist and the variety of colours are quite stunning. I contacted John and he kindly sent me some photos of his work in the exhibition. The first example is Summer Finery (shown below) which has a dazzling array of colours on the glittering water, the serene duck and the vegetation. My ceramics teacher sister-in-law thought that John Threlfall’s style could be described as Impressionist or Fauvist. I put this to John and he replied “As to a description of my painting style I have to confess it is not something I ever think about. Others have described it is as Impressionist and as my use of brighter colours develops perhaps Fauvist maybe used increasingly”. I was unfamiliar with the term Fauvist but on looking it up, I discovered that the Tate Gallery defined it as “… the name applied to the work produced by a group of artists (which included Henri Matisse and André Derain) from around 1905 to 1910, which is characterised by strong colours and fierce brushwork”. My eye was attracted to the purples in this painting – in the water and on the duck’s back; and also to the white Sydney Opera House style white water lilies.

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Summer Finery by John Threlfall (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The second painting below is Swanlight and I think that this is a very clever title of this classic Impressionist painting. When you look at it, you can indeed see a light emanating from the swan’s plumage, as they huddle together, perhaps for safety or maybe just for a neighbourly get together. There are a number of flows to this painting – in the vertical background and patches of green, but it is the elegant flow across the plumage of the huddled swans that is particularly eye-catching.

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Swanlight by John Threlfall

In the exhibition, John Threlfall also includes many paintings of animals such as seals, hares and elephants. The exhibition is open until 23rd May, so get to see it if you can, as it is a superb collection of this most impressive (as well as Impressionist) painter.

In my last post, I noted that this year has produced a very healthy crop of spring flowers, with polyanthus and pansies much bigger and more colourful than in previous years. The daffodils and in particular, the tulips have also been magnificent. Daffodils were originally brought to Britain by the Romans according to this source but were not recognised as a garden flower until the 1600s. This year I have had, like other people I’ve talked to locally, more white daffodils than normal but I do not know why. I do like the great varieties of colours in the daffodils  I have, and depending on whether the sun is out or not, the daffodils appear to take on different shades. The photo below is one from a bowl of daffodils given to us by my sister. This flower has elegant shapes, a range of colours and shades of colour and the centre appeared to me like a piece of origami you might see in an exhibition. It gave us continuous pleasure for more than a week.

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Yellow and orange hybrid daffodil

While the early stars of the show in the garden were the daffodils, polyanthus and pansies, the tulips are now out in all their magnificent pomp. It’s as if the tulips know that – unlike the pansies and polyanthus that last much longer – their time as the centre of attention is limited. In some parts of the garden, there are only tulips and it is like a fashion show and I liked the elegant, almost aloof look of the three shown below.

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Elegant tulips on show in the garden

I took the 3 close-up photos after a heavy rain shower this afternoon. In the first photo, the flowing lines (a la Threlfall) on the petals, with their delicate shades of purple, draw your eye down the flower, which looked to me like hands being held out, perhaps in celebration.

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Close-up of a shapely tulip just after the rain

In the 2nd photo, I make the same comment as I did when I last posted on tulips. Can you see the tarantula? There is also as dazzling light coming from the centre – like Threlfall’s swans – and the raindrops are captured on their way down to this hydra-like centre.

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Spider-like centre of a tulip after the rain

The 3rd photo is the undoubted individual star of the show this year and this beautiful, multi-petalled tulip has been widely admired by neighbours and visitors. There is a lushness and an abundance in this flower, with its plethora of petals, whose colours are enhanced by the raindrops, which seem to be protecting the centre. When looking at the photo of this tulip, I wonder what an Impressionist/Fauvist painter would produce in making a representation of the flower?

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Multi-petalled tulip after the rain

 

Guardian Country Diary and spring flowers

April 30, 2018

I read the Guardian’s Country Diary most days, because of the quality of the writing about the rural environment. A recent one particularly caught my eye as it featured wild primroses, which can be seen on slopes near streams not far from Dunbar. The author of this piece is regular contributor Phil Gates. Like the other contributors to the Country Diary, Gates has an enviable lyrical flow to his writing e.g. “Had I not strayed from the footpath around the fields and explored its slopes, I might never have stumbled across a hidden, wild population of wild primroses”. Although primroses in the wild have the name primula vulgaris, there is nothing vulgar about these pretty flowers, especially in the wild setting of this article (see photos). Gates notes that primroses hybridised with the cowslip to produce the ancestor of the modern primulas, which are “now mainstays of municipal spring bedding schemes everywhere”. Gates also comments that the occurrence of wild primroses which are not yellow but salmon-pink, may be the result of cross-pollination with garden primulas. The Country Diary is a short read – like a poem – but it often provides welcome relief from the litany of heinous crimes reported in The Guardian.

The article provides a nice link with spring flowers now at their peak in my garden. I plant a few hundred bulbs in the autumn and intersperse them with polyanthus and pansies. When I do this, the ground or pot looks fairly bare and interesting. So the contrast with what can be seen now is amazing, as in the photo below, where the proliferation of flowers is added to by the reflection on the glass of the balustrade.

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Spring flowers on the decking (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The polyanthus have prospered this year. They are bigger, with brighter flowers, greener leaves and longer stems. What exactly caused this success is unknown to me but it is presumably some combination of the right amounts of rain and sun. Taking a close look at the plant, as in the photo below, shows their wonderful structure as well as the vibrant colour. You can see how pollinating insects such as bees are drawn invitingly to the centre of the flower by the flowing lines, which become more colourful as they approach the nectar pot.

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Close up of a yellow polyanthus

I have different varieties of primula in the pots and I prefer the yellow one above to the dual coloured type below, although they are still attractive. This version may attract the pollinators more directly because of the yellow heart of the flower might be seen as more enticing because of the contrast with the pale purple.

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Dual coloured polyanthus flowers

The other stars of the spring flower collection at the moment – I will leave the daffodils and tulips for another day – are the pansies, which have also been quite prolific this spring. There is a multiplicity of different pansies which you can buy and grow from seed and you can see a selection (with photos) here. Taking a close-up look at the pansy – in the two photos below – you see similar lines to the polyanthus but the heart of the flower is much more bold and it is as if a butterfly or moth has been painted on the flower. Again, this is a bold statement by the flowers, as in “Come and see what is on offer here”. The flowers are obviously in competition to attract the insects and this bravura show of colour reminds me of some birds which emphasise the colours of their plumage to attract a mate.  The second flower below is particularly attractive I think as the imposed butterfly or moth takes up almost the whole leaf of the flower. Pansies last much longer than daffodils or tulips, so the joy to be had from seeing them as I open the curtains in the morning is equally extended.

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Yellow pansy in the spring garden

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Pansy in the spring garden

Crocuses in the snow and Rita Bradd’s poems

March 26, 2018

In many towns and villages in East Lothian at this time of year, the crocuses – planted by East Lothian Council – have emerged, bringing a welcome splash of colour as you walk or drive into the areas. I’ve featured local crocus spreads on the blog before e.g. here. I was biding my time this year until we got the full display of these welcome early spring flowers, but sometimes you have to take an opportunity to photograph something that you are pretty sure will not be there if you come back tomorrow. Recently, we had a brief covering of snow in  Dunbar and we were driving through the next village of West Barns when I saw the crocuses on their bed of snow. It was a bitterly cold day but I got out of the car to capture the scene.

Firstly, the orange crocuses, making a brave show of themselves in the snow. You’ll see in all the photos that the crocuses are keeping their flowers firmly shut. These may be delicate little flowers but they are not daft enough to open up on a freezing cold day in March.

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Crocuses in the snow at West Barns (Click on all photos to enlarge)

Then the white crocuses. It may be that there are more of these plants to come but, as you see in the photo below, the white specimens on show sit by themselves and not in small groups as the orange ones above. Are these more individualistic flowers which like to display their beauty – see the delicate purple lines below the flower heads – on their own, with no competition from others? A search for “crocus” on the RHS  website   produces 695 different types of crocus on 70 pages, so identifying the ones shown here would be a large task – but do not let me stop you.

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White crocuses at West Barns

The purple crocuses below appear at first sight to be of a uniform colour. However, when you look closely, they are all individually marked. Searching for “purple crocus” on the same site reveals the delightfully named crocus tommasinianus, although it is not clear that the ones below fall into this category. The other feature of all the photos is of course the greenery attached to the stem of the plants and this is also very attractive. The sharp leaves are partly hidden by the snow but they reminded me of the wooden stakes that used to be used in medieval battles to trap advancing cavalry and impale the horses on the partially hidden wooden spikes. I cycled past the same spot a day later and the temperature had risen by a few degrees, melting all the snow. Some of the crocuses had opened up, but not many.

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Purple crocuses at West Barns

I have to admit some interest in reviewing Rita Bradd’s book of poems entitled Salt and Soil. Rita is, like me, from Dunbar and lives near the town. Her husband Alan was in my class in school. I am thanked in the Acknowledgements for my advice on publication. I will hope to be as objective as I can. This is a poetry pamphlet – 15 poems in total. In the title poem, there is an intriguing image of photographers on the rocks by the sea “They’re fishing for life at the edge of the world”. There are some fine lyrical lines in many of the poems, such as “Dawn sneaks her breath into seams/ that constrict the day’s fresh garment” from Day Break or “When the North Sea finished throwing up/ over Siccar point..” from Salt of the Earth, My Mother. Not all the poems are successful but there is enough in this wee book to make you appreciate the poet’s obvious talents. Rita Bradd may well not end up as a Poetry Book Society Choice author but very few poets do. If you would like to buy the book, you can order it here.

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Salt and Soil – poems by Rita Bradd

Smooth tattie dreels and bluebells

May 3, 2017

My home county of East Lothian is often referred to as “the garden of Scotland” because of its rich arable soil. In the past two weeks, several fields around Dunbar have been transformed from being roughly ploughed and not very interesting areas, into mesmerising rows of tattie (Scots for potato) dreels (Scots for drills). The first photo was taken at a slight angle to the dreels and I love the curvature of the shaped soil and how one set of dreels leads on to another further up the field – and the 2nd set appear to curve in a different direction.

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Tattie dreels on the edge of Dunbar (Click to enlarge)

The 2nd photo is taken more or less straight on and the regimented dreels look like an endless set of brown piano keys, which might play a song such as (appropriately for this blog’s author) Tatties and Herrin. This song claims that the “natural food” of the Scots is potatoes and herring – and the video shows the reaping, gutting and barrelling of the herring (aka Silver Darlings). In the 1920s and 1930s, tatties and herrin’ were indeed the staple diet of many Scots people. Of course, in the 1920s and 1930s, before the advent of tractors, tatties would be sown by hand or by an early potato planter and they would be sown in much smaller fields, compared to the huge fields we see today. I have planted tatties in my own garden this year – the first time for over 30 years and yes, my dreels are smooth. When the first nascent shaws appear on my crop, I’ll post a photo

 

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Tattie dreels and the Lammermuir Hills

It’s May, so time for the bluebells to make their annual appearance and, for a brief time, be the dominant flower in woodland areas. A fellow blogger – Bookish Nature – has an excellent post on bluebells and she includes a lovely quote from Gerald Manley Hopkins and a clip from a Robert MacFarlane video, based on his excellent book The Wild Places. I ventured to the woods at Foxlake Adventures – as I did last year, to try to take better photos of the bluebells. The first two photos show the extensive bluebells among the trees at Foxlake. In some ways, the trees enhance the bluebells, emphasising their colour and showing how they cover the ground around the trees. The bluebells also enhance the tall, erect trees which are just coming into leaf, showing their mottled bark and their reach towards the light. In the 2nd photo, the sunshine has lightened the colour of the bluebells and strengthened the green of the new leaves. The bluebells will soon fade away but the leaves will get bigger and change colour to a darker green, so you have to appreciate the light green shapes that have emerged from the buds while they last.

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Bluebells beneath trees at Foxlake Woods

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Bluebells and trees in the sun at Foxlake Woods

Taking close-up photos of bluebells is something I find quite difficult but I keep trying. The first photo shows how the bluebell petals curl up when open and when you are looking down on stretches of bluebells, you hardly notice this feature, which is like women’s hairstyles in the 1960s. The vibrancy of the blue in the bluebell comes out very well here and you have to crouch down and look closely to appreciate this. So, next time you are in a bluebell strewn wood, hunker down and take a close-up view.

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Bluebell close up

For the 2nd photo, I had to hold the stem of the flower and turn it upwards. Bluebell flowers droop down, as if the flowers are too shy to show off their attractive pale cream anthers which hold the pollen. Only the creatures that scurry in amongst the bluebells, e.g. the beetles or perhaps a curious little wren, will appreciate the aesthetics of the underside of the bluebell. Seeing the bluebells in full colour and spread is a heart-warming sight, as you can feel the warmth in the colour of the flowers and know that Spring is well underway and soon the sun will have real warmth as well.

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Bluebell close up, showing pale cream anthers

Redhouse Castle, walls and daffodils, and honeywort

April 11, 2017

Sometimes you get to places by accident. Recently, we were visiting the Carol Barrett exhibition and there was a huge queue of traffic going into Aberlady (good photos), we headed west, through Longniddry  and ended up at Redhouse Castle (good photos). There is a new garden centre next to the ruin of the castle, which is a late 16th century building originally standing 4 storeys high. The first photo shows the ruin from the edge of the garden centre. It is perhaps not one of the most attractive castles which have survived but, given the technology available in the late 16th century, it is an impressive site.

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Redhouse Castle., East Lothian (Click to enlarge)

The 2nd photo shows the arched entrance into what would once have been an impressive courtyard of the Douglas family who built the original castle. It was acquired by the Laings (good photos) in 1607.

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Entrance to Redhouse Castle, East Lothian

The final photo is a close up of the doorway into the castle. Above the wooden door, on the pediment, can be seen the Laing family coat of arms and the initials MIL for Master John (Ioannes) Laing and RD for his wife Rebecca Dennistoun or Deenistoun. The motto on the lintel is Nisi Dominus Frustra – one translation being without the Lord, all is in vain, although like many Latin mottos, other translations exist. The stonework around the doorways is smooth, unlike the rougher – but more attractive, sandstone of the building itself.

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Doorway into Redhouse Castle, with the Laing family arms

On to stonework which is on a much lesser scale but, as I built most of it myself, remains attractive and has been enhanced by the array of daffodils now in flower above the walls. The first photo is of the first wall which I built with much advice and help from former stonemason Ian Sammels. This remains – unsurprisingly – the most impressive wall.

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The Sammels/Herring all and Spring flowers

The 2nd photo is of the latest – and final(?) stonewall, which I built myself. The mixture of daffodil types – white or yellow petalled – with the different shades of red sandstone, plus the shadows of the bushes behind, make this – I think – a well composed photos.

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The Herring wall with a variety of daffodils

A new plant in my garden is honeywort, given to me by my lifelong friend and fellow blogger Tam Bruce and his wife Sandra. Tam gave me two cuttings from their impressive garden in Edinburgh. This plant, shown below, has the wonderful name of Cerinthe major “Purpurascens”. It is a long established plant which attracts bees – thus its name – and one source quotes Virgil as ” using this plant as an offering to swarming bees in order to entice them into a new hive”.  As the photo shows, the plant has very colourful  tubular bell flowers, and at the moment, the leaves are starting to change colour and will develop into brilliant blue leaves or, more precisely, bracts which are defined as “leaf like structures”. So there is more to come from this plant, which seeds itself vigorously and has to be controlled. Tam and I had some fun in email exchanges, suggesting a modern update of the Beatles’ song Honey Pie, with a new line of “Honeywort, you are driving me crazy..”. I like the shadow of the plant against the stone and its intriguing shapes.

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Honeywort in my garden

 

Back to St Abbs and Spring flowers (2)

March 26, 2017

On Sunday, another visit to one of our favourite places, St Abbs Head (good photos), featured many times on this blog. It’s a small village but you can vary your walks and views nearby and always see something just a bit different from the last time. We parked at the National Trust car park and walked down past the farm on our left, which had a shed full of sheep just about to lamb. We saw some lambs in a nearby field and I managed to capture them amongst some shapely reflections of the trees.

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Lambs at St Abbs (Click to enlarge)

We went up the first part of the cliff top walk – going west to east – but only wanted a short walk, so we didn’t go any further. On the way back, you look across the to village of St Abbs Head, past the ragged shaped outcrop of rock (Photo below). It made me wonder whether, in a hundred or two hundred years, that rock column, sculpted by the weather, will still be there. It’s a superb view, taking in the harbour and all the houses built on the once empty cliffs above. There was only a gentle swell on the sea that day, with the waves edging slowly around the rocks, and not crashing over them as they often do.

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Rock column and St Abbs Head village

The next photo is from an angle I don’t think I’ve taken a shot from before. It is looking back across the edge of the harbour towards the clifftop walk, with the impressive Northfield House prominent on the cliff. The rock column in the photo above is just to the top right of this photo. Behind the house on the left with the red roof, with chimneys at either end (like the house to its right), there is a wooden staircase which leads you up to the impressive St Abbs Visitor Centre, which is well worth a visit.

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View across St Abbs Head arbour to the cliff walk

We walked back to the car park and, at the end of the farm buildings, I came across a trailer load of neeps – see photo below. In Scotland, we call them neeps or turnips. In England, they are called Swedes. What people in other parts of Britain call turnips, which are much smaller than neeps, we call white turnips. Around Dunbar, you will also hear people referring to Tumshies, another name for neeps/Swedes/turnips. Very confusing? For your amusement, but maybe not illumination, read this excellent Guardian article on the subject.

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A trailer load of neeps at St Abbs Head.

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Close up of neeps at St Abbs Head

And so to the second reflection on Spring flowers. In many towns in Scotland, councils in recent years have greatly expanded the planting of Spring flowers and it is not unusual to see great swathes of bright yellow and white crocuses at the entrance to these towns. Councils also planted thousand of daffodils and it is they which now take centre stage, as the crocuses have faded. There is something uplifting about seeing large groups of daffodils and I think Wordsworth had something to say on the topic in two versions (see website). I took a photo of daffodils on a banking at The Glebe in Dunbar. This small park overlooks the sea and the harbour entrance. The photo looks towards the remains of Dunbar Castle(good photos).

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Daffodils on a banking The Glebe, Dunbar

My aim every year is to take very clear close-up photos of flowers, to get to the heart of them and look at them as abstract shapes as well as attractive flowers. In the first photo below, I took two contrasting daffodils, one with white petals and one with yellow petals. They are both enchanting flowers but maybe the white petals emphasise the yellow, choir boys’ ruff of the flower’s centre more. Both have delicate stigma which thrust out to attract the pollen seekers. They are like mini corn on the cob with extensions.

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Two daffodils in my garden

In the final photo, I like the delicate folds in the prawn cracker petals and the ragged edge of the flower is similar to the rock face above at St Abbs. Also, the colour in the flower is not uniformly yellow but contains various shades, making it even more attractive.

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Yellow and white daffodil in my garden