First Frost

It was a bright crisp morning and the fields all around were sparkling white when I drew back the curtains this morning. Definitely no time to lose to make sure we were down to the loch before the sun had melted the ice and dissipated the magic.

Wrapped up warmly with hat and gloves for the first time this winter and set off briskly. We were rewarded with a sight of the the first sprinkling of snow on Ben Lomond and the Arrochar Alps. The loch was calm and clear with geese honking, swans on the far side of Net Bay and a solitary heron fishing patiently over on Ring Point.

We decided to make our way to the Endrick Viewpoint further up the hill which is where this first picture was taken. The frost had not been hard enough to freeze the ground and it was pretty heavy going after all the rain and the trampling from the cattle. But by stepping carefully from tussock to tussock we managed not to lose a shoe. It would have been easier if we were in wellingtons. I managed with much less difficulty when I did the same walk last week more suitably clad. The gate was still glistening with ice crystals on the way up which had started to melt by the time we had squelched our way back down again.

The afternoon was spent collecting leaves for the compost. Even piled up wet and soggy in the wheelbarrow the colours were glowing. It really has been a wonderfully colourful Autumn this year.

A fantastic autumn day

Up early this morning and down to the loch at first light. There was a mist rising from the loch and the fields and wisps of cloud lingering in some of the glens. It was a truly magical morning and the light has been wonderful all day.

The woods are full of spiders that I've never seen but their presence can be felt by the fine filaments that brush against your face as you walk along the path. I imagine them as minute trapeze artists swinging from tree to tree only have their safety harnesses swept away as I walk through. The cold night had produced a touch of frost and heavy dew so there was clearer evidence of the spiders' activities this morning in the delicate webs,

What a difference a day makes

From this -----------------------------------------------------------to this

in less than twenty four hours.

Friday night saw the wind getting up - so much so that one huge gust hit the gable end with such force that it woke us up. Unusually, this wind did not blow itself out in twelve hours but continued throughout Saturday. It was exhilirating walking through the woods and by the loch. Squalls of rain kept blowing over from the West with rainbows arching over the islands. I've seen the loch choppy before but never seen such spectacular waves rolling in. In the distance a fuzzy grey line between the water line and the shore indicated where the spray was being whipped from the tops of the waves. And the roaring of the wind in the treetops meant that it was almost impossible to carry out a conversation.

All along the path there were leaves, twigs and branches that had been blown down. As far as I could see there had been no major casualties but plenty of branches for Rosie to get her teeth into.

Today was much calmer although there were still a few ripples on the water and the occasional white horse. The sky was blue and the birds were singing again - the turmoil of yesterday already forgotten.

Fly Agaric

Here is every child's image of a toadstool - the classic red with white spots. We have had lots of fly agaric on the garden this year and they reminded me of a poem my Mum used to recite to us as children - The Elf and the Dormouse by Oliver Herford, an American poet of the early twentieth century.

Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf,
Out of the rain to shelter himself.

Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.

Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.

To the next shelter—maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.

Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.

Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the Dormouse—"Good gracious me!

"Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented.
—And that's how umbrellas first were invented.

I am reminded of this little rhyme every time I see the large toadstools that have sprung up all over the garden this year.

An early Autumn

Just a quick post - there's a lot happening and not much time for blogging.

The walk in the woods is getting wetter with the loch level really high for this time of year. The beaches have practically disappeared - much to Rosie's displeasure - and some of the trees already have their feet in water.

After weeks of seemingly unremitting rain there are occasional glimmers. I caught this pool of light on a walk last week. I love the spicy

smells of Autumn and the changing colours. The bracken is turning brown now and will soon be flattened by the winds and storms.

There are also signs of the swallows preparing to leave - lining up on the wires and taking part in spectacular feeding frenzies as they swoop and dive for insects. It's either that or they are in training for the marathon flight ahead.

What a week!

This has probably been one of the wettest weeks of the summer. There have been several absolutely torrential downpours - one of the which sent the cows in the neighbouring field stampeding down to shelter under the trees at the furthest corner. It has been impossible to miss the showers when out walking Rosie and we have observed that the loch level has risen several feet and the beaches have now disappeared.

The woods are beginning to change with far fewer wild flowers in evidence and bracken and grasses turning brown. Even though it is still August there is a faint tinge of Autumn about, as colours change and berries begin to ripen. The storm-struck oak has now been felled and lies full length on the ground. It was considered too much of a risk to leave it to age and fall naturally, possibly across the path or destroying the nearby fence. The size of the split shows how much damage was done by the lightening. It will now be left to decay naturally and provide a micro-habitat for wildlife and fungi. From the number of rings on the trunk this oak had already lived to a good age - at least 60 years if not longer.

A sure sign that Autumn is coming is the number of mushrooms and other fungi springing up throughout the reserve - and in the garden. Here are a couple from the garden - a giant puffball measuring at least 10 inches in diameter and some that I think are common earth balls.

Summer sights

It's been a rather hectic month with some time away and also a steady stream of visitors. This has meant lots of walks to share the beauty of the loch but not much time to write up the blog.

The fields up to the village have remained a delight throughout the summer with amazing numbers of butterflies. Here are pictures of a few that I have managed to get close enough to photograph.

Small copper on a hawkweed

Small white.

Painted Lady.

These were all taken on the same morning in the fields below the Millennium Hall. There are clouds of small whites and on one patch of rosebay willowherb I counted over 30 of them moving restlessly amongst the bright purple flowers.

It may not have been a great summer but it hasn't been a bad one either. I've enjoyed the mixture of sunshine and showers and the flowers and hedgerows have certainly flourished. I picked my first few blackberries today and there are lots more to come. There are the first hints of autumn now with the rowan berries ripening and some plump rosehips beginning to ripen near the bench at net bay.