Saturday 22nd August, 2015
The week started with some butterfly excitement. I had just seen a red admiral on our white buddleia and was pointing it out to Tim when a different butterfly landed on a nearby flower. I rushed out with my camera and took my first comma photo of the year.
I thought it might be my first sighting of a comma but when I checked my butterfly list I remembered that I had seen one briefly in early April - but it flew away before I got a photo. The common blue sighting last week has brought my list up to 9 positively identified species in the garden plus a small copper which I saw at Langness and a small heath in Brookdale.
The blackcap family is still around every day. They are finishing the last of the blackcurrants and frequenting the raspberry patch but once the fruit is finished we won't see them until next summer.
After shopping on Tuesday morning I took yet another (and probably the last) photo of the juvenile blackcap.
In the afternoon I cut a car load of ferns from the sides of the ditch outside the laundry window. I started on this section of the ditch because the cats disappear into the vegetation here when I am trying to chase them out of the garden and I can't see whether they have returned home or are lurking under the ferns smirking at me. I may be verging on cat paranoia as I have even considered the purchase of a water pistol but I doubt whether I would be able to get close enough to the cats to give them a worthwhile drenching.
Rain was forecast for Wednesday afternoon. We wanted to start walking again so we went out early for a short walk up Skyhill. We hadn't walked up the hill since July 6 and noticed quite a change during the past six weeks. I got the feeling that the year was already starting to wind down. There was no bird song, not even the previously incessant cooing of the wood pigeons. The silence was broken only by an occasional gust of wind rustling through the trees.
The path was littered with the soft pollen cones from the conifers and there was already some fungi growing at the side of the path.
When we reached the end of the path we could see a thick layer of hill fog covering the top of North Barrule on the east side of the glen. It looked as though it extended below the mountain road. I hope there isn't too much fog during the next couple of weeks because it could disrupt the practice sessions and races for the Manx Grand Prix which start at the end of the week.
On the west side of the glen I could see some animals in the distance. They looked too big to be sheep. With the help of maximum zoom, I discovered that they were the ponies that we have seen on previous walks, grazing at the edge of the heather moor beyond the old deserted upland farm, The Neary.
It started drizzling almost as soon as we walked in our front door - earlier than expected - and continued raining all day. The only bright moment was a brief visit by two goldfinches.
On Thursday I did another session of fern cutting. This is likely to be the story of my life for the next few weeks - fern cutting followed by trips to the amenity centre to drop off loads to ferns to be recycled into compost. It seems a waste of organic matter which could be used in the garden but when we let the ferns rot down with the leaf mould in the past I had to spend ages weeding small ferns out of the areas where we spread the leaf mould. I am not efficient enough to make proper compost which heats up sufficiently to kill the spores.
On Friday, after our routine shopping trip, I was back in the ditch . . . with my new best friend. Robins are often referred to as the gardener's friend but this little chap was the friendliest robin I have ever encountered. He (or she) must have hatched late in the season because most of the juvenile robins have already moulted. This one still had all its baby feathers.
It hopped around in the ditch by my feet, checking for any small spiders or bugs that dropped off the ferns. It even perched on the front of my boot a couple of times. I had to be careful not to tread on it.
Another favourite perch was the edge of the big muck bucket that I was loading with ferns.
On one occasion, I had my hand on the edge of the muck bucket and it landed right next to my hand with the claws on one foot gripping my finger. I dug out a few weeds and found some small earthworms but he wasn't interested. Either he didn't recognise them as food or he wasn't particularly hungry. He stayed with me for at least two hours - until I finished working in the garden.
There was also more butterfly excitement. When I walked past the mauve buddleia on my way down to photograph "my new best friend", I disturbed a painted lady feeding on the nectar. I went up onto the patio to see whether I could get a photo. Eventually I spotted it but it was feeding with its wings upright - possibly due to the overcast and windy conditions. So I had to settle for an underwing photo.
I checked the plant again later when the sun came out but I didn't see the painted lady again. Now my butterfly total is up to ten in the garden plus two on walks. Not too bad considering there are only 20 butterflies found on the island, of which just 16 are fully resident.
This morning when we left for the amenity centre to deliver a load of ferns the little robin was back on the wall outside the gate to greet us.
I cut another section of ferns before the forecast rain arrived at morning teatime. I was working up at the top of the garden well away from the young robin's territory but I was joined by an adult robin. He just observed my efforts from a safe distance.
This is a "before" photo. The ditch at the bottom of the bank is completely hidden under the overhanging ferns.
And this is an "after" photo.
I will cut the ferns which are growing higher up on the bank after I have finished exposing the rest of the ditch. I am about three quarters of the way along the ditch now. The ferns overhanging the ditch are the most important because I need to be able to get into the ditch to clear out autumn leaves, but there are masses of other ferns as well. I calculated that it would take me about fifteen sessions to trim them all back.
There is never much to report regarding flowers at the end of summer. My favourite rose, Gentle Hermione, has been producing the occasional flower ever since the main flush. This bud is probably the last. The roses haven't enjoyed the windy summer. The outer petals have all been damaged, probably bruised before the buds open, when they are being thrashed around by the gales.
The crocosmia seemed to survive the wind unscathed and put on a good display but they are near the end of their flowering season although they are still being visited by hover-flies.
While I was wandering around looking for something to photograph, I saw this sprig of tutson berries glowing amongst the ferns.
I have always loved fuchsias. I remember wanting to grow fuchsias on a steep bank at the end of our house in Natal. I thought it would be rather attractive if they overhung the path below. The plan didn't work. The bank was probably too hot and dry. That is no longer a problem, fuchsias love this cool, damp garden in the glen and even come up from seed and sometimes need to be weeded out. This is one of the spontaneously self-seeding shrubby fuchsias. The red and purple ones are more common but we also have these dainty pale pink ones.
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