Another spring beauty....

Cuckoo flower (Cardamine pratensis)

I seem to say this every time...but this is another of my favourite plants. The Cuckoo flower, part of the Cabbage family, flowers between April and June and loves moist conditions - stream sides, woods and meadows. We have several little colonies in our garden down by the river and where a small spring runs down to the river. The flowers are a lovely delicate lilac colour with slightly darker veins in them, but they can also be closer to white.

In astrology Cuckoo flower comes under the dominion of the moon.

Folklore

According to John Gerard, the 16th century herbalist, the flower got its name because it blooms "....for the most part in April and May, when the Cuckoo begins to sing her pleasant note without stammering." Another story links the name with cuckoo-spit, the foamy substance that often covers the plant. The foam is actually nothing to do with the cuckoo but is produced by the nymphs of the frog hopper.

Another commonly used name for this plant is 'Lady's smock' - my favourite name in fact. In many counties milkmaids used to call the plant 'Cuckoo flower' so you can see there is some confusion as to which common name prevails. Another common name is 'Milkmaids'. A plant of fairies, best left well alone, it was never knowingly included in the May Day garland and if used accidentally it could result in the whole wreath being rewoven.

In Austria it was thought that anyone who picked the plant would be bitten by an adder. In Germany people thought that if the plant was brought indoors the house would be struck b lightening.

Medicinal uses

Nicholas Culpeper, the 17th century herbalist, lists a number of uses - the treatment of scurvy, 'provoking the urine', breaking the stone, effectually warming a cold and weak stomach, restoring a lost appetite and as an aid to digestion.

The plant contains vitamin C and it also has tonic and expectorant properties that makes it useful for treating coughs. It can also be used against dropsy, spasms and chronic skin conditions.

Edible uses

The young shoots, leaves and buds taste like watercress and can be sued in salads and with sandwich spreads.

William Shakespeare refers to the Lady's smock in his comedy 'Love's Labour's Lost':

"When daisies pied and violets blue

And lady-smocks all silver white,

And cuckoo buds of yellow hue

Do paint the meadows with delight"

The author of the book from which I draw these Shakespearean references (Eleanor Sinclair Rohde) goes on to say:

"No botanist would describe lady-smocks (her spelling) as 'silver-white' for, strictly speaking, the flowers are pale lavender, but to those of us who are country folk Shakespeare's phrasing rings true. For when their dainty flowers grow in thousands, the meadows seem agleam with them and in the spring sunlight they look as Shakespeare describes them - silver white. Cuckoo buds are surely buttercups, for what other flower of 'yellow hue' can be associated with lady-smocks to 'paint the meadows with delight"? She is, of course, not quite right as the flowers can often be almost pure white.

A very peculiar plant...

Moschatel (Adoxa moschatellina)

This is a very peculiar plant - so much so that it is in a family all by itself! Indeed in the past it has defied classification but was at one time placed in with buttercups. The name Adoxa comes from the Greek "a doxa" meaning "without glory". The common name, Moschatel, refers to its scent, which is musk-like and which is stronger at dusk when the dew falls or in damp weather.

It is a very small and insignificant plant - growing between 5-12 cms - and can be easily overlooked. It likes to lurk in woodlands and hedge banks, flowering during April and May before being overtaken by the growth of other plants.

The flower head consists of 5 flowers - four facing outwards and one facing upwards. This arrangement gives the plant its other common name - "Town-hall clock". In Cheshire it is also called "Five-faced bishop" apparently after a church dignitary of days gone by who was constantly changing his mind.

There are no known edible or medicinal uses for Moschatel and strangely I have not been able to unearth any further folklore about the plant.

Still, it is a lovely little plant and well worth keeping your eyes open for.

Sunset......

I took these shots at the end of the day after shooting Robins most of the afternoon as seen in the previous post. I had to be quick as the sunset went very quickly. I really liked the way the sun lit up the bottom of the dark clouds. I need to get into this Skywatch thing I supppose.

The Robin [Redbreast]

The Robin is one of my favourite birds. It has got to be the most widely recognised bird in Britain - surely even the most disinterested person could correctly identify the Robin if asked. The Robin can be quite tame - I have often stood chatting to one a few feet away when digging the vegetable patch in our garden (or resting more likely!). I often hear the sharp tic tic warning call when Sable (our cat) is wandering around. During the heavy snow we had recently you could see several Robins all together feeding without the usual brawling that often happens when two or more of the birds are in close proximity. The following shots were all taken recently on one of those snowy days when I had nothing better to do!

The Robin has a well documented place in our folklore and a quick trawl of the Internet threw up the following. The Robin has always been seen as an emblem of charity and piety. Shakespeare described the Robin as the "Ruddock with charitable bill" and William Wordsworth asked, "Art thou the bird whom man loves best/The pious bird with the scarlet breast/Our little English Robin?"

The are a number of tales about how the Robin got his red breast and these primarily have religious themes and involve acts of kindness. It is said that a Robin picked one of the thorns from the crown worn by Jesus on his head when he was crucified. The bird was either splattered with Jesus' blood or pricked its own chest depending on which version you prefer. Another tale says that the red breast resulted from the bird being singed when it was taking water to sinners in hell. Yet another says that it happened when a Robin was fanning a fire to warm the baby Jesus at Christmas.

Robins are also associated with dead bodies! Apparently, if a Robin came across a dead body it would cover it with moss or leaves. John Webster wrote in his play, The White Devil,

"Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren'

Since over shady groves they hover,

And with leaves and flowers do cover,

The friendless bodies of unburied men."

In the fable, "The babes in the woods", (not to be confused with a later pantomime) two young children come to a sad end. The last verses of a poem by Thomas Percy goes:

"Thus wandered these two prettye babes,

Till death did end their grief;

In one another's armes they dyed,

As babes wanting relief.

No burial these prettye babes,

Of any man receives,

Till Robin-redbreast painfully,

Did cover them with leaves."

Robins are are also supposed to be reliable - or otherwise - weather forecasters. If a bird sang on top of a bush then the weather would be warm but if the bird sang from within the bush then rain was on the way. Check it out next time you see a Robin singing!

Killing a Robin was meant to be bad luck - your hands would not stop shaking. Breaking the birds eggs was equally bad, resulting in something valuable belonging to the person responsible being broken.

Perhaps the most obvious link is between Robins and Christmas, particularly as a subject of Christmas cards (I am thinking of making my own this year!!). Apparently postmen in Victorian times were called "Robin Redbreasts" because of the uniforms they wore.

In his poem, Winter, James Thomson (1726-1744) described the tameness of Robins at Christmas:

"The redbreast sacred to the household gods,

Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,

In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves

His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man

His annual visit. Half afraid, he first

Against the window beats; then brisk alights

On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor,

Eyes all the smiling family askance,

And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is-

Till, more familiar grown, the table crumbs

Attract his slender feet."

Hmmm. I have never had one alight on our hearth but have seen them feeding from peoples hands.

Robins are truly a beautiful bird and I, for one, am glad that they have developed an affinity for people. Perhaps I will leave the patio doors open (if not in deep winter!) one time to see if I can entice a Robin in to feast on some lovely bird seed by our hearth..........!

A winter stroll....

We had a bit of snow the other day and so I decided to take a stroll with the trusty Canon to see what was out there.

I have it in mind to reinvigorate my artistic ways and thought to start with a landscape, perhaps featuring our local pub - The Colesbourne Inn. The first three shots are of the Inn just to give you an idea. The Inn dates back to 1827 and was originally a coaching inn - the section to the left of the main part being stables but are now rooms.

I inevitably headed towards Pen Hill on my stroll and the remainder of shots are taken from various points on or near the hill. I would have gone to the top but from the first shot you can see that there was a small herd of cows munching on the rank grass poking through the snow. You have to be careful with cows! I recall watching a programme about helicopter rescues sometime before Christmas which featured an item about a man who was attacked by a herd of cows. He was quite badly beaten about and kicked. The helicopter rescue team was alerted and on arriving at the scene were forced to hover the helicopter between the man and the cows as they were coming back for some more!! There was one particularly stroppy cow which strode up to the helicopter for a face off - I think it must have been their time of the month. Anyway, needless to say, I considered discretion to be the better part of valour and turned around.

By now my fingers were frozen so it was time to head home for a stiff whisky by the fire.