Retired ten years, with an obsession with butterflies, I've decided to give blogging a go. Butterfly Mind is quite appropriate since I flit from one thing to another depending on the day, the weather, and circumstance.
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So we booked a flight to Billund, with Ryanair. When the confirmation email came through we were encouraged to download the Ryanair App where all relevant information would be at hand. So I did.
Sure enough, there was the invitation to check in. Would it work? It did. The boarding passes appeared, together with an exhortation to save to Google Wallet. What’s that? Took a risk, downloaded it. The boarding passes appeared in it, and an invitation to ‘add a card’ which, after some hesitation, I decided against.
Next morning, the day of the flight we decided to hire a car. The app came up with cheap car hire so we booked something from Avis. After picking our way through all the options, pressed Pay – and was told it wasn’t available due to age.
A was getting into a state but we tried again, and realised certain critical boxes had been missed.
We chose a different supplier from the list, and a bigger car, remembered to check the age box and hey presto – all done by app. By which time my hands were shaking and chest was getting tight.
Went out still shaking, posted letter, stopped the newspapers, bought cat food, calmed down.
All that remained was to see if we actually got a car!
Having spent too long this morning trying to find a phone number, I drained my coffee and set off for a wander round Carrington Moss. I haven’t been there much over the winter, and the last time I went it was so cold and windy I quickly lost interest
Today, along Isherwood Road leading to the Moss, Wain Homes was proudly flying its flags for all the new housing which is so ‘exciting for Carrington’. Just beyond them, there is a lovely little woodland that has no public access and is a haven for birds. Not even the nature reserve people have access. But Wain wants to chop it all down to build a big warehouse there – naturally the people who have just bought the new houses next to it are not very happy about the plan.The f
ootpath alongside the Moss has always been a destination for butterfliers because the Jack-by-the-hedge, or Garlic Mustard, which grows there is so attractive to the early emerging butterflies and is a major food plant of the Orange-tip. But it had all been strimmed, thus losing most of the butterfly eggs. A solitary Orange-tip hunted forlornly for some nectar-bearing wildflowers but the new growth was not yet sufficiently recovered. But seein as I was there, I decided to see how many not-yet-flowering wildflowers I could identify.
Walking up to the Old Orchard, the noise from the Shell Pool was was at full volume from the breeding ducks and seagulls. At the corner where in the past we discovered a flycatcher’s nest, I stood a while, trying to spot the wren who was singing, without success. The trees along the next path are not yet in full leaf, and I hoped to catch sight of the buzzard who often sits up there, waiting to startle me as he takes off, but he wasn’t there today.
Down the long straight path of what is grandly called the Ashton Road, I looked in vain for Yellowhammers and Skylarks. A small bird singing very sweetly from a hawthorn bush turned out to be a shy Dunnock, and the only other birds I saw were magpies and seagulls.
I stood and contemplated the rather bleak scenery of straight raised paths bounded by birch and the occasional severely flailed hawthorn bush; the arable fields which have been clawed back from the Moss by draining, and the fields which looked as if they had been poisoned. The chemical works’ flare and the distant traffic were a constant background noise, although not so loud as to mask the singing of the few birds there were.
It all seemed rather desolate, and I thought about Trafford’s determination to allow the Moss to be dug up for roads and housing. How much more lovely it would be if the council could see a way to invite the countryside to come closer, and create proper wetlands and flower meadows to encourage wildlife and butterflies.
Eventually turning along Manchester United’s concrete roadway I noticed with surprise that the grass and herbage had been mown all the way back to Isherwood Road; the smell of cut grass was still fresh. However, only one side had been done, and on the side which had not been strimmed I saw a female Orange-tip, a Speckled Wood and a Comma.
The previous day saw some torrential rain, but Saturday dawned calm and bright so despite the several apologetic emails a party of six set off for Twinnies Bridge at Styal, Cheshire. We took the straighter path past the transmitting station, through Quarry Bank Mill, and followed the meandering river Bollin. Crossing a couple of footbridges we came to Giant’s Castle and puffed our way up the long flight of steps. Then of course there was a similar flight of steps to go down the other side, which was a bit of a challenge to some of us.
I was on the lookout for fungi which gave everyone frequent opportunities to rest when they discovered I was way behind, on hands and knees, getting down to mushroom level with the camera. The front-runners called me over, pointing out a stunning patch of bright red-and-white Fly Agarics, the best I have seen. A couple with a dog came by, curious as to what I was photographing, and they went happily on their way having been told a little about the importance of fungi to the earth.
Further on was a fabulous display of fresh Porcelain fungi, and nestling in a tree was a bunch of aptly-named Spectacular Rustgills. It was a day of thrills for a mushroom hunter.
Sunlight filtered through the still-green trees, contrasting with the golds and browns of the woodland floor. Acorns, conkers and beech nuts blanketed the ground with feasts for the squirrels and jays to enjoy now, and to hide in their stores for winter.
Emerging from the woods we turned up towards the airport runway. Nearby, a little further up the hill, was a group of serious plane spotters with long lenses and camping chairs, but we found a sunny ledge at the side of the access lane where we could sit and watch the planes taking off as we ate our lunch. A police car drove up the lane towards us and for a moment I thought we were going to be moved on, but the officers gave us a friendly smile as they passed by.
Leaving the planes behind we had such an easy stroll along the quiet road that we nearly missed the turn to Styal cross. Here we set down our burdens and rested on the conveniently placed seat – and were surprised and pleased to meet the Ledgertons out for a family walk. Then along to the Mill and a refreshing cup of tea before the last half mile back to the cars.
The first misty morning of Autumn. From where I sat at breakfast I could see a cobweb full of jewels hanging on the hedge. The mist intensified to fog as I drove through the country lanes, and the air was decidedly chilly. I parked up on the edge of Dunham village and climbed the walkers’ stile into the grounds of Dunham Massey.
The mist began to evaporate, sunlight chasing it through the trees. Acorns fell from the trees like thunder-drops of rain. Cobwebs lay across the grass like a frosted blanket; they hung from twigs like strings of pearls and draped fairy lights across gates, daring anyone to enter.
A pair of squirrels chased around a horse chestnut tree. A young rabbit scampered off and settled in a hollow, its head visible above the parapet, ears translucent in the sunshine.
In the distance, deer raced across the park; encountering some people on a footpath they turned and bounded back the way they had come. Close by, a single stag casually munched on the grass. A photographer with a very long lens on his camera stopped in his tracks, firing off shot after shot. A young mum with two small children also stopped to watch the stag who was quite unconcerned at his star status.
Fungi began to appear in the grass, and I knelt to get close with the camera. A party of volunteer workers called a cheerful greeting as they passed by, chatting happily as they pushed their wheelbarrow full of tools.
Pleated InkcapBoleteMeripilus GiganteusAgaricus
Reflections danced on the small lake and a kingfisher, gloriously illuminated in the full sun, streaked across in a blur of blue and pink plumage. Dragonflies hawked back and forth over the reeds, and clearly they were still interested in breeding despite the earlier chill.
A man with a litter picker walked purposefully across the park to one of the stiles and I followed, intending to head for home. More fungi presented themselves and a lady who had been watching me earlier, pointed out some that I had missed. By now the sun was high and hot, butterflies were charging up their solar cells for a last hurrah before bad weather set in, and I went off to recharge my own batteries at the cafe.
From the NFU website, I learned that in 2013 Love British Food, the organisers of British Food Fortnight, established a National Harvest Service. The first was held in Westminster Abbey, and it is now held every year, each time in a different part of the country during British Food Fortnight. A Harvest Torch is handed from city to city with the National Harvest Service.
On Saturday 24th September it came to Chester and Cheshire, where members of the public could enjoy the best produce the county can offer while viewing the Harvest Torch. The roadshow was the brainchild of Revd Anne Lawson, who is Vicar of The Cross Country Parishes of Acton, Church Minshull, Worleston and Wettenhall and Chaplain to the Cheshire Agricultural Society.
I had been alerted to the event a few weeks previously but I found very little publicity in the media so, not really knowing what to expect, a friend and I went along to the Apple Barn at Dunham Massey, which was its first port of call in this county. The Apple Barn at Boundary Farm is a fairly new initiative run by Alan Hewitt whose family have lived and worked there for over a hundred years, The Revs Aled Seago and David Murray, the two clergy who share the care of the parishes of St Margaret’s and St Mark’s, Dunham Massey, were there together with Bishop Sam Corley, Bishop of Stockport.
We ordered coffee and a delicious slice of home-made Bakewell tart and sat at a table outside to await the arrival of the Torch, along with others who had come specially for the occasion. Eventually a small crowd had assembled and at 11.30 the Harvest Torch arrived with Rev Lawson and Harvey, Vicky and Reuben, three members of the Mid-Cheshire Young Farmers Clubs.
Rev Anne LawsonBishop Sam CorleyReuben, Harvey and Vicky from the Mid-Cheshire Young Farmers Clubs
The Bishop gave a short talk about the history of the Torch and the National Harvest Festival. The Torch was specially commissioned, created in 2013 by master blacksmith Andy Hall from Devon. It depicts harvest’s natural bounty and is the farming community’s answer to the Olympic Torch. It was originally blessed in Westminster Abbey and each year the Torch travels to a different diocese – next year Peterborough may be the host. The places it visits are chosen for the excellent quality of their local produce – and the Apple Barn certainly produces the finest ciders and juices I have tasted!
After praying for harvest workers everywhere and blessing the Apple Barn in particular, everyone, clergy included, crowded into the shop to purchase bottles of cider and juice to enjoy at home; the Torch was carried off to its next stop at Great Budworth Ice Cream Farm, and the members of a walking group arrived for their lunch of wood-fired pizza, unaware that they had missed a ceremony which had just given thanks for the very food they were about to consume!
Further celebrations of harvest were scheduled for the following day in Chester Cathedral with a farmers’ market and a display of agricultural machinery.
We arrived in Marple in a downpour, and for fifteen minutes we listened to the rain hammering on the car roof as we struggled to demist the windows. Eventually it eased off sufficiently to allow us to get our waterproof gear on and we set off. Emerging from some trees we were faced with a short flight of steps which appeared to finish at a wall, but it was an illusion; for the path turned along the side of the wall and all at once we were alongside Marple Locks. Crossing over, our trail wound through the housing estates and unexpected snicks and cut-throughs of Marple until the houses finally came to an end at a park.
A pleasant wander along a leafy track brought us down to the Goyt valley and we spent time paddling in the ford. No doubt during the prolonged dry weather it was possible to get across in wellies, but today we contented ourselves attempting to name the wild flowers growing on the ‘beach’. There was no necessity to hop across via the tree stumps either, for there is a proper bridge.
A larger-than-lifesized carving of St Chad invited us through the gate of the lovely Chadkirk Chapel holding a set of keys which someone had found and rested on his arm, and although the chapel wasn’t open today the graveyard and the walled garden were a welcome opportunity to sit quietly and enjoy a snack. A sundial in the garden declared: ‘Take your time. Turn your face to the sun, and the shadows will fall behind’. More about the chapel can be found here: https://chadkirkchapel.org/
St Chad holding the keys to the kingdomChadkirk chapelSt Chad’s well
Energy renewed, we passed St Chad’s well before making the short but steep climb up to the the Peak Forest Canal just across from the delightfully named Burymewick in Romiley, and we stood at the top catching our breath. A woman came toiling up the hill in bottom gear on her bike, clearly relieved to have made it to the top.
The canal was still and and the reflections perfect, the sunshine dappled through the green of the overhanging trees. We watched the ripples made by the rain dripping off the trees, and the woman on her bike overtook us again with a cheery greeting. A gorgeous white bracket mushroom snuggled in the hollow of a dead tree.
Sounds of regular thumping from machinery could be heard from a factory across the canal. A deep cutting that almost felt like the bottom of a lock eventually led out to the 100 feet high Marple Aqueduct, constructed in 1800 to carry the canal across the Goyt valley. We lingered awhile as we crossed the aqueduct, admiring its stonework and the even higher railway bridge nearby.
Marple aqueduct
Now back at the flight of Marple Locks, we found Canal and Rivers Trust volunteers repairing a lock gate mechanism. In the mud of the drained lock were bird footprints and some curious trails which appeared to have been made by wandering mussels. From here it was but a cockstride back to Marple station, and we enjoyed a welcome cup of tea in the garden of a nearby cafe.
One of the locks has been drained to enable access to the mechanism, with curious tracks in the exposed mud
St Mary’s ramblers are now so old we’ve started a new group called Meanderers. They’re semi-retired ramblers who only want to do short walks, up to 5 miles, these days. The main group (which is actually smaller than the Meanderers now) will still occasionally manage 8 miles on a good day with the wind behind them and level terrain!
We’re based at St Mary Magdalene church, in Ashton on Mersey, south Manchester.
Ramblers at Grange-over-Sands in 2018Photo: Aamir Sabzwari
Ramblings
3rd September 2022: Rowarth
The day dawned fair and mild, and despite the forecast, 11 souls turned up for the ramble.
Rowarth is a hamlet on the edge of the Peak District and in the 18th century it supported five mills. The only remaining evidence now is the Little Mill Inn which was a former candlewick mill and has a large water wheel outside in the stream.
After initially setting off the wrong way up the road, the track rose gently as we made our way towards Lantern Pike. The half mile up to the National Trust boundary of the Pike was rather steeper and necessitated several stops to admire the view. A tiny shrew had expired by the wayside; perhaps from thirst on the dry, parched terrain.
Lunch at the top of Lantern Pike
Descending from the Pike we passed Bulshaw Farm, whose owner had previously told me that he was one of the first to take climate change seriously, back in 1986. He rewilded his land, increasing the tree coverage from a mere six to a woodland and allowing the arable land to revert to meadows. The griffins on the gateposts looked as if they had been there for ever, but Farmer Allcott said he had put them there himself some years ago, “but it doesn’t take long for the weather here to make anything look ancient!”
We pressed on and after more ups than downs we finally came to Cown Edge. Here the land drops away dramatically to the Mancester plain, and in the distance we could just make out the uninviting dark towers of the city together with nearby Stockport.
Everyone managed the half mile track along the edge (there was an alternative if fear of heights or inclement weather had struck) and we allowed ourselves a short rest and a celebratory drink of water when we were safely through the stile at the end.
From there it was downhill practically all the way back to Rowarth, where we repaired to the excellent Little Mill for refreshment.
Now that the warmer weather has encouraged the butterflies to reappear, I went out on my first transect walk of the year to see if there were any butterflies to count on my patch.
Starting from the canal at Sale Station, I set off along the towpath towards Brooklands Station, a mile away. A new development of apartments beside the canal has required a section of wall to be cleared of the ivy which would normally attract pollinators but fortunately there is still some left which will regrow. The fluttering of a Small White attracted my attention and as it settled I attempted to get a snap of it, but wouldn’t you know, the camera was on the wrong settings. A lady passing by stopped to watch, and in the brief conversation I forgot to tell her all about the importance of butterflies.
Next stop was the big brambly patch by Springfield School. It has been severely cut back to allow safer access to the footpath which cuts through. The sun shone in a clear blue sky; there was a very gentle breeze, and small birds could be heard singing and calling to each other. A Mallard duck with half a dozen tiny chicks paddled by. I lingered here for a few minutes but no butterflies.
Mrs Mallard with chicks
I reached the exit for Brooklands station without seeing another butterfly. Glancing through the wrought iron gate to the old cemetery I saw the grass had been cut – the council likes to keep the graveyard tidy but it doesn’t encourage pollinators.
Crossing the busy road I then passed the row of black and white shops and ventured along Framingham Road until I came to the corner where there is a tall hedge of holly and ivy. It had been trimmed and I did not expect great things here. After standing for a while – no doubt worrying the residents – I began to retrace my steps when suddenly a Holly Blue fluttered high over the hedge. Turning the corner back to Marsland Road another Holly Blue soared over the hedge.
Entering the cemetery gates I walked clockwise round the perimeter. A large dark butterfly on a mission went bombing past too fast for me to identify – probably a Peacock. I stopped at my parents’ grave and was pleased to see the daffodils I planted in the autumn were in glorious bloom – and relieved that the council workers, seeing the emerging bulbs, had kindly left the grass uncut.
Magpies shouted coarsely from the tombstones and a few people were tending graves but there were no further butterflies until, leaving the cemetery, a third Holly Blue fluttered over a garden hedge.
I wended my way via side streets to the busy A56 and crossed over to a quieter road. A modern development called Walnut Grove made me wonder if the original walnut tree still stood there, and as I looked around at the various plantings, a Comma landed in front of me.
Further along the road, just at the end of my route there is another primary school with a neatly kept garden and here a pair of Holly Blues chased each other round the bushes and made a fine ending to the transect.
Small White (pieris rapae)Holly Blue (Celastrina argiolus)Comma (Polygonia c-album)
Just then, a Nuthatch called from a nearby tree. Aiming the camera – now adjusted to the correct settings – I fired off a few shots before the bird disappeared. Back at home I looked at the images on my laptop and saw, to my great delight, that there was not one but a pair of Nuthatches and I had caught them in a brief mating flutter!
I was pleased to rediscover a photo I took in 2020 of a remarkable fungus called Chicken of the Woods. Each of the yellow blobs was approximately 6 inches across when I first found it, but over the week it doubled in size. As it aged it paled to a creamy colour. It was quickly discovered by others who cut chunks off and eventually someone knocked the whole thing out of the tree, leaving it bare. Last year it did not reappear, so this week I revisited the tree to see if it had recovered. I was sorry to see it had totally rotted and had been cut down for safety.
20202022
Mushroomy and said to taste like chicken to some, it has the same texture as chicken and is good in stews as a veggie ‘meat’. It can be used in any recipe calling for chicken; however it is best when young as it gets woody and acrid when older. It must be cooked. Some people have reported stomach upsets after eating it so if you haven’t tried it before, start with a very small piece and see how you get on.
I tried a tiny piece of this – about 3 cubic centimetres – sliced it thin, coated in seasoned flour and fried to a crisp. I have to be honest and say I didn’t think it tasted anything like chicken, it was just like mushroom!
As part of this course I should set goals for this blog. I should know who I’m writing for and should aim to get followers.
I’m writing for myself, basically. I believe my memory is failing and could that be Alzheimers kicking in? So what I write, if I can keep it up, is a trail of how my thinking works and maybe it will show a change over time. For better, for worse..
Today is Sunday and that means church so now that I’m clear of the covid scare I joined my fellow worshippers at St Mary’s. The big draw was the newly inducted associate minister for planting; it was his first time leading a service here. A comfortably built middle-aged family man with dark hair starting to recede, and a confident manner. A good start! Next Sunday he will get to preach.
The vicar himself preached today, introducing the series of studies on the Lord’s Prayer. The big thing I took away from it was that prayer doesn’t need to be for myself because God already knows what I need. Prayer should be all about finding out what God wants me to do, and how to do it. “Thy will be done.”
That’s some goal. As for followers, I don’t really mind who follows me or not!
A Butterfly Mind 