by Derek Smith
The pond has been taking our attention over the past week. The tadpoles are eating the remnants of their jelly. There are black masses of them, so thick, you can hardly see the individuals but for the wriggling of the mass. All the tadpoles are out of the jelly, and eating like crazy. There are unfertilised eggs remaining, but they …
This week, I have been on search for the Witch’s Tree in Bush Wood, woodland at the northern end of Wanstead Flats. I tried to find it nine months ago for my latest crime novel. I couldn’t find it and decided that one of the characters couldn’t find it either. Well, he does in the end and is found murdered under the canopy.
Warm air holds more moisture. But you may have noted, I said it is chilly. Well, moisture in the air is picked up over the sea, mostly the Atlantic and that retains its summer warmth well into late autumn. Warm air also has more energy, which gives us fierce winds and storms. Around the country there has been some very wet weather, with extensive flooding in places like Looe in Cornwall:
We have had quite a bit of rain this week, including a couple of furious, rainbursts. They lasted less than ten minutes, but the rain belted down in stair rods, to replenish our almost empty metre cubes (IBCs). Except one. We have three, they hold about a 1000 litres each. Two were filled by the rain to about a third, but one not at all. The pipe from the pergola gutter wasn’t quite reaching the orifice of the IBC. It must have become dislodged, and the water would have gushed out and onto the ground. We have added a piece of pipe to make sure the water goes where it should.
I look for spiders in their webs about the garden. This should be their breeding days. I see a web or two but no spiders. It has been so dry and that’s bad for insects and spiders, and for the garden in general. Our water barrels are empty. We have three metre-cubes (IBCs) each with a capacity of a 1000 litres, and smaller barrels too, giving us roughly another 1000. So 4000 litres in total, all used up in watering plants. But we have the hose and we fill up the central cascade of barrels so we can water until this drought breaks.
And then, I asked the audience who else would like to come to the mic. My fear was nobody would, and I had prepared some readings if this proved to be the case. But six came forward, at least three of whom were teachers. And, if you think about it, who are used to speaking to large numbers daily? Teachers, of course. They spoke of Benjamin’s work in schools, making poetry accessible to children, and getting them writing it themselves. A man spoke of Benjamin’s desire to have children. He was infertile, and so wanted to adopt, but in spite of much effort he was not allowed to because of his police record. This, he found heartbreaking.
A woman told us of Benjamin’s veganism, his refusal to eat any animal products, hating the cruelty of the meat industry. These days, the environmental impact of livestock produces around 15% of climate gases. Benjamin was an honorary patron of the Vegan Society.
I am a volunteer in the community garden today. My shift runs from 10 am to 12.30. There’s always two of us on at any time. That’s a safety thing, we haven’t had much trouble, a difficulty person occasionally, but back up is more comfortable. It’s warm and windy, but when the sun goes in the clouds it suddenly chills. …
The weather was warm, but windy, with music sheets blowing. The ukulele band was the first group on. This was led by Misty with around 20 of her students from the Sunday morning sessions. They played and sang folk and pop, mostly well known. Misty did some solos to give her group a break, and to vary the session. Among her solos were Moon River, Jolene and Dream a Little Dream of Me, whose best known rendition is by the Mommas and Poppas in 1968 with lead vocals by Momma Cass. I came into the garden when the whole group was playing Leaving on a Freight Train. It was good to see their first gig.
The summer has been wet and warm, on other days a little cool. An English woman living in New York says she yearns for cool, wet British summers as she swelters in east coast heat. Which makes me reckon that in twenty years, we’ll yearn for the cool summers of the mid 20s. Climate change has us firmly in its grip; we cannot assuage our fossil fuel fever. Old habits keep us flying and driving, as if our tiny contribution is of no accord. Multiply that by 30 millionfold.
The garden is very green (not counting plastic grass). All the rain we have had over spring and summer has increased chlorophyll in the leaves, the green pigment that works with sunlight and water to make glucose, giving plants sustenance to grow, and to make yet more greenery. In a drought, the absence of water kills off chlorophyll, unless there’s regular hosing. Though, there’s nothing to beat a good downpour when it comes to giving the ground a real soaking.
All our fruit is coming on well. I note apples, pears and plums, and under the small pergola bunches of tiny grapes. We have planted out some of the tomato plants that were getting too big for their pots, so we’ll have some in late summer to add to our sandwiches.
A tadpole was seen with legs. I don’t see it, the pond water is still green and a little murky, though not as bad as it was a few weeks back. A couple of days ago, I saw blue damsel flies, none today. I see no sign of a bulrush stem, plenty of leaf, higher than the pond irises leaves, but a reluctance to flower, for that’s what the bulrush sausage is, an intense cluster of female flowers. There’s two pairs of water lilies. A grand, surprise of a flower, like a white regal boat, seeming to be floating on the water. They have stems, of course, sometimes visible but more often under the water, hidden under the lily pads. The pond irises have developed their seed heads, like long green lozenges.
