Ruth's Tree across the loch

Every morning I look north-east across the loch. A good many years ago I noticed "a speck, a mist, a shape I wist" (apologies to Coleridge!). Eventually I decided it was a tiny tree and, as the years have passed its shape has been more easily recognisable as a tree. Last year I told Ruth about it and said I'd like to walk right up to it some time. She wanted to do this too ("I love a challenge," she said) but on her last visit to the Boggy Brae she wasn't well enough so that walk didn't happen. One day I'll do it.

In the photo directly below I've put a pale arrow pointing to where the tree is on the horizon as seen from my bedroom window. To the right of it is a forest plantation. I suspect my 'speck' of a tree seeded from one of those trees, especially as I now think there is another speck-like, misty, tree-like thing growing further to its left. I should probably borrow Toad's massive long lens and get a better shot.

Photos are landscape so if viewing on a phone you might need to 'swivel'.

28 February 2021 in the garden

Holey crocus

Lichen on a rotting spruce stump

Forgsoawn at last!

Hazel catkins

Toad thinks the nibblers might be beetles

Polytrichum/Haircap moss sp on rotting spruce

 

Tools and tarps discarded at the top of the field

 

A certain restlessness yesterday that seemed to be caused by the news of a friend's sudden death made me go and prise Toad out of his office for the purpose of walking round the field with me.

It was still blowing fiercely so I had to tie my hat on with a scarf to keep it close to my ears. We headed up the field first to check out the blue tarpaulins above the field boundary. Last year some people seemed to be building a den up there but it looked as if, what with the gales, the tarps were beginning to part from their moorings. 

They were. And they were being torn to shreds. We decided to clear them up and remove all the washing line rope from the trees they were tied to. The knots were not "proper knots" so it's a good thing I carry a penknife in my pocket. Without freezing hands we might have managed to undo them but we only had freezing hands. We brought the tarps back home. One might be useful in the woodshed but the other is now binned.

We also tried to pile up the shed load of tools and chairs and other paraphernalia that had been left to rust and rot. I counted four spades, a rake, heavy loppers, shears, a bow saw, and several pairs of gloves among all the other stuff. Some people obviously have too much stuff because it means nothing, apparently, to just leave it to litter and rust and freeze into the countryside.

The dross

We also brought home a crowbar and a useful stretchy cord. We'll go back and clear the rest of the stuff bit by bit. Just before we left the site I went round picking up chucked away Irn Bru cans and throwing them onto the pile for later collection too. 

The site just before we left it and carried away the blue tarps

Plastic rope and shreds of tarp

Snowdrops 2021

 The first snowdrops of 2021 have appeared on the Boggy Brae. They are under an azalea on the steep, northeast-facing front bank and it is this group that appear first every year.

The Tamarisk moss through which this one is growing is looking good too

On the southeast-facing part of the bank, there is a primrose plant that has not stopped flowering since last spring. Near it some others are looking promising.

Sea fog

 This blog has been on hold for a while after Toad's macbook died, using the imac in the home office was just too uncomfortable – heights of working, of seats, of arthritic aches that are unaccommodating, and anyway the photos app isn't working properly for shifting iphone photos to the blog interface. Oh, and the Blogger app on an iPad was a nightmare to use. Now, though, I have my own macbook so I thought I'd start blogging again.

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When I looked out of Toad's working from home office (formerly Toadlet's bedroom; it has a good desk) window this morning before it was light, I was struck by the appearance of the light at Rhu Point. It looked like a broad, vertical, red beam which subtly changed to yellowish and then back to red. I haven't seen it like that before. Perhaps it has been recently updated. A little while later it had vanished in a thick bank of fog, which then enveloped the channel marker buoys as it rolled up the loch. As I write a ship's fog horn is blaring a warning note at regular intervals.

Sun is forecast for this afternoon but the fog will keep the temperature down meantime.

Fog over the field; it's thicker over the loch

Yesterday managed a bit more colour. It's amazing how much winter colour there is when you look closely. Raises the spirits. As does faffing around with scraps of colourful fabric in the warmth of the house.

Snow on old fern fronds

Trees across the lane

A mossy mound, shaded and sunny sides

Bit of fabric faffing

As I finish this the sun is making an effort to break through the fog ☀️

Bike ride to Faslane Cemetery

We can’t keep up with the Joneses 😉 but we had an enjoyable ride yesterday morning in pleasantly cool and breezy conditions. Faslane Cemetery contains memorials to the crew and builders of submarine K13 that sank in the Gare Loch in 1917.

We wandered around the rest of the cemetery reading names and stories. Perhaps I should say imagining stories. It’s not hard to imagine some tragic storyline when you read of several deaths of infants affecting one family.

I wondered what relation Gertrude and Marie Louise bore to each other on the gravestone pictured below, as well as loving Marie Louise's full name.

Riding back it struck me how much of the signs of spring I had missed in Garelochhead by travelling to work all through lockdown by car. I’ve sometimes considered cycling but decided against it on the grounds that I wouldn’t have energy for that as well as for the extreme gardening I need to do at home!

The pic below shows expanses of scentless mayweed that are visible this year on the tidal marshes at Garelochhead. This is one of the results of someone’s epic cutting last year of the Japanese knotweed that usually pretty much smothers everthing else. I hope it is kept under control in future years. 

The final pic is looking down the loch. You might be able to pick out a green field above the small, rightmost boat. Home is next to that field.

Note: I’ve often wondered why Gare Loch is so often referred to as the Gare Loch (the Gareloch). I think it’s perhaps an easy way to distinguish it from the town of Gairloch in the North West Highlands.

Rescued peonies and a bike ride

I went out in my PJ’s and wellies to rescue the rain bombed peonies. The midges were out in force. If I did any gardening later, I thought, it would be full midge jacket and Little She Bear's homemade midge repellent on the only bit of exposed skin, my hands.
Homemade midge repellent made from bog myrtle leaves (picked up the hill), vegetable oil and tree resin. It’s good.

After I'd done the grocery shopping, Toad and I went for another cycle ride on the Loch Long side of the peninsula. It was good to see quite a few sailboats out, including a couple with black sails. Pirates, Toad said. 😉

I stopped on an uphill bit. This was above me.