Six Years Since I Crashed Out of the Treehouse

This morning Bert asked,

How long is it now since you crashed through the treehouse?

I told him I couldn't remember exactly but I'd look it up.

So I did. It was just over six years ago. I told him. He said,

You must have been some weight back then.

The cheek of him!

I said,

It was nothing to do with my weight. It was because of your rotten trapdoor.

Everything not good always turns out to be Bert's fault.

He said,

Six years ago. You'd have been the same age as I am now.

I said,

True. And you know you'd not survive a fall like that.

He agreed. Anyway - here's a post I wrote a few days after my fall.

Blackbird Again

This is Mr Blackbird earlier this evening singing as loud as he could to drown out the Dreen Road traffic. This picture was taken from ground level. He is sitting at the very top of a very tall and dying ash tree.

Four days now since I fell out of the treehouse and there is something to add. Two feet, for the drop was twelve-foot, rather than ten.

Every day I'm a little less sore than I was the day before, and yet...

On Day One I was super-hyped on adrenalin and glad to be aliveness. The pain was almost a joy to me because I had survived the fall with no serious injury.

Day Two was more of the same but with less pain.

On Day Three my left breast was really sore. As always, I went to That Place. Then Bert noticed that there were a lot of butterflies in the garden. Mostly Small Tortoiseshells and a couple of Red Admirals. I grabbed my camera.

I spent a happy half hour taking pictures. And afterwards, the breast pain had completely eased. Not cancer then, just boob whiplash.

Today, Day Four. Just one sore area, somewhere under my left shoulder-blade. It was really annoying, much less bearable than Day One's multiple pains. I succumbed to pain relief even though it was against medical advice.

I have been thinking about the fall and have figured out why I got off so lightly. My legs must have got caught up in the trap door cover so than when I landed on the ground I only impacted my shoulders and upper back. My head, lower back and limbs were entirely unhurt apart from abrasions and a big bruise on my right arm where it caught one of the wooden struts holding up the platform. The strut broke, my arm did not. Zoe said I'm as hard as nails. I hope she's right.

Today I took some pictures of our flycatchers. Himself sitting on the sumach outside my window.

 
Herself sitting on their second clutch of eggs. They are a busy pair.

I might go out now to see if I can catch a glimpse of the long-eared owl babies that are hopping around the big trees at the back of the sheds. That is the second pair of long-eared owls that have nested here this year. One pair in the middle of the wood and another pair nearer the house. The young ones kick up quite a racket after dark.

Red Campion and Two Wrens

 

 

You know how people sometimes say that they are 'going through some stuff'? Well - that's me right now, going through some stuff, mostly being bored stiff. 

It's a weird one for being bored is not really me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just on a practice run for my extreme old age. This upcoming birthday isn't something I'm looking forward to. Seventy? I'd rather be eighty but suppose I should be grateful/hopeful for the ten years I'll spend getting to my eighties.

I'm practising 'living in the moment' which means I try to appreciate what is going on right now. Tonight that means admiring the moon, checking out the owls and worrying about the neighbour's noisy cows.

I also put the moth trap out as there is no rain expected tonight. There was a bit of an oops moment a couple of days ago. I put the trap in the shepherd's hut (rain expected) and inspected the catch inside. One poplar hawk-moth, rather faded, a buff-tip on the floor of the hut, a lot of brown ones, no ermines. Because it was indoors I left most of them on the table and let all those that settled on the walls alone. 

A couple of hours later I brought Bert to the hut to see the hawk moth. 

Be careful, there are a few on the floor, don't tread on them.

We went in and there were two wrens flying about. No moths on the floor except the buff-tip which looks like a twig. The poplar hawk moth was safe enough, I'd tucked it away. We left. A little later I spotted the wrens again. They were treating the shepherd's hut as an all-day breakfast cafe. The only survivors were the hawk moth and a couple of yellow underwings. I won't be doing that again. 

Drumrankin, Drumkeeran, Dublin and Dingle.

 On Monday night I put the moth trap out and captured just two yellow underwings. It's not advisable to catch moths on consecutive nights as it prevents them from feeding and breeding. But... two yellow underwings. Against my own (and Rachael's) advice, I tried it again last night. The trap I'm using at the moment isn't that efficient but I'll take that as a good thing. The moths are fine without being trapped and I do get to see a few nice specimens.

This one is a burnished brass, not uncommon and really beautiful. There were two of them. Here's hoping they were male and female and will be out there tonight, making sweet, sweet love. 

This was the only photograph I managed that didn't feature an egg carton so that's the one to share. Who needs to see yellow underwings at rest? They only look good when they're on the move. 

This beauty, a Gold Spot, was in the trap four days ago. The best picture I got was of the moth positioned on my hand. Unfortunately, my hand looked as if was attached to a drowned cadaver so far too vain to show that one. Have to make do with the grey egg box shot.

It was another scorching day. Sometime in the afternoon, the clouds began to gather and there were distant rumbles of thunder. The rain never came, just a couple of spits in the early evening. I'd be glad to see a shower and so would my flower and vegetable beds. As always, the fine weather brings out the heavy grass harvesting plant. The machines rolling through this yard get bigger every year. Just a few branches ripped off the horse chestnut and a gate post knocked over. Thankfully, the dogs know to stay out of the way.

We had visitors this afternoon, a couple of younguns, Emma and James who'd never stroked a hen before. Dolours obliged them. Dolours is moving around more and can now travel about four metres. She's eating and drinking well, pecking at vegetation and searching out insects. I am thinking of applying for a Carer's Allowance. 

In other news, I am delighted that Ganching will be visiting Nellybert for a couple of days. She is doing a tour of all four Ireland-based siblings. Drumrankin, Drumkeeran, Dublin and Dingle. Exciting times. It's a ridiculously long time since we've been together. 

In The Midst Of Pandemic, A Lovely Day

I took so many photographs and videos today that I hardly know where to begin. Actually, I do. As every day begins with moths then so shall this post.

A Buff-tip, one of a pair I found in the trap this morning. They look like little pieces of broken birch twig. Wild strawberry plants are not the normal habitat but then, neither are light traps. I hope that this one and its companion fly off tonight and make babies together.

It is Tuesday and that is the day Zoe comes to work on her allotment, a government-sanctioned form of exercise. Dave heads to the wood to continue the building of a sweat lodge and the girls take possession of the shepherd's hut. Social distancing is maintained at all times. I gave them my camera and they took pictures of some improvements they made to the decor.

I don't know which is the worst thing in this picture, that Evie is perhaps a tad too close to her granda, or that her granda is smoking a fag. It's all about perspective. Evie is easily 2 metres away and well away from his noxious smoke.

Inside the hut. Martha must have set the camera on timer.

Martha thought this little cabinet would look better with some small books. She was right.

Martha relaxing. Photo by Evie.

I have been advised to get a yellow ukelele to hang on the wall. This one is the photographer's own.

The next item on the agenda was the restoration of the swing. Evie supervises from the treehouse.

A very tall ladder had to be erected. If Martha seems closer than two metres to Ben that is a trick of perspective. Our home is practically a park. Sorry to boast but we're more than happy to share in return for your labour.

Up with the ladder!

And heave!

Evie was the first to scale the 30-foot ladder to check safety features

Martha was slightly more cautious.

Hannah didn't make it to the top.

Ziggy never took his eyes off her.

The swing happened. The ladder was dismantled. Dave (Knot Expert) advised on knots, the swing was tried. Apparently, it is amazing. Sadly there were no photographs as everyone was too busy advising, knotting and swinging and the Chief Photographer was in the kitchen finishing off and packing up supper for removal to Ballymena.

I am so looking forward to having them all around the table again. Back to normality.

The day ended as it began, with moths and the borrowed and very excellent Robinson trap removed to the polytunnels beside which there are willowherb, sallow and dog daisies. We are hoping for elephant hawk-moths.

Another Sunday

 I have been getting up ridiculously early these past few mornings to deal with my light trap. On the advice of MothsIreland I'm rising at sparrow's first fart to male sure that the birdies aren't eating my moths for breakfast. Sparrow's first fart is earlier than 4am.

After turning out the light, and safeguarding the trap by stuffing a tea towel into the opening I return to my cosy bed. The first picture is a Beautiful Golden Y which is only distinguishable from a Plain Golden Y by extra goldiness and glitteriness. I had it verified on the aforementioned MothsIreland group on Facebook.

These are two moths found in the trap this morning. I have yet to name them but know that they are male and female. I placed them in an identification pot and put them in the fridge to show Bert but they had separated out before he got up and were released into the wild whereupon they went their different ways. Guess it was just a one night stand.

I realised that I'm becoming obsessed with moths when Norfolk daughter posted some photographs from a woodland walk she took with her children, my actual grandchildren, and I found myself enthusing about her picture of the cinnabar moth on a bracken frond before I liked and commented on my actual adorable grandchildren.

A kerfuffle in the sunroom. This one, a juvenile jackdaw, flew into the room and couldn't find a way out. Is very handsome. Only seconds after this picture, the bird was off and away.

Bert and I spent the afternoon dismantling the greenhouse. It has been in that spot for slightly over forty years but it is time for a move. The place where it stands is earmarked for something new.

Two skinny blokes in faded jeans. 

We were glad when H turned up. After the glass was removed and stashed safely Bert and H and Hannah and Nelly took a corner each and moved the frame to its new spot. 

Moth trap out for the night. I'll miss the greenhouse for checking the catch but...

Watch This Space!

Tumbledown

Garden tiger, 23/7/19

On Monday afternoon I tripped and fell. There were a lot of people around but it was Hannah who came to my aid. There was a bamboo cane lying on a garden path and the tip of it caught in my Birkenstock causing me to completely lose my balance and down I went on the rough flagged path. I used my hands to save myself and it was the hands that bore the brunt. An abrasion on the left wrist, another on the right and worst of all a badly torn thumbnail. I was very lucky. But the nail. Afterwards, I thought, if ever I was really injured, in A&E say, with fractures, internal injuries and a torn nail, it would be the nail that would annoy me most.

Poplar Hawk Moth, 22/7/19

Bert spotted me on my hands and knees, among the sidalcea and the geraniums with Hannah attending me and do you know what he thought? He thought I was looking at a moth!

Elephant Hawk Moth 24/7/19

It's true that since Rachael loaned us her moth trap I have been a bit obsessed with lepidopterology, so much so that I arranged a special sleepover for Martha and Evie so they could share the excitement. That was last night. This morning we all gathered round to examine the night's catch.

Martha's specimen box proved to be a great boon for looking at and photographing the elephant hawk moth...

...which, like all the other specimens briefly captured, was returned to the wild and will be flying again tonight.

Gratitudes

This pertains to a conversation I had earlier today about gratitude, giving thanks and fostering positivity. I'm grateful for this conversation, especially on a day like today when the UK has had foisted upon it, a leader who seems far from being fit for purpose.

Gratitude number two is twofold. I'm glad of a friend like Rachael who encourages me to enjoy the natural world, who loaned her moth trap and gave me the chance to look closely at the world of moths. It will be ages before I learn the names of the many varieties of native moths but I know at least five more today than I knew on Friday. That's a start. Checking the moth trap this morning I discovered this one, a poplar hawk moth. I'd seen pictures before but in real life, it's a lovely creature to behold. After the release, the moth found a resting spot on our monkey puzzle and was introduced in turn to Hannah, Richard and Brendan.

Thanks to the magic of digital photography my poplar hawk moth pictures were shared with Facebook friends and the wider online world. That is another gratitude, today's ease of recording images. Beats the olden days when film processing was expensive and took ages and the photographs were far too often a disappointment.

And every day I am glad that Bert is in my life. Today he said he was 95% happy. It must have been the full 100% yesterday.

My last gratitude is still to come. As I was telling Dave this morning I have, for the longest time, on the point of turning out my bedside light and getting ready to fall asleep, given thanks for my own comfortable bed, my own safe home. This comes from years of working in residential care homes and hostels and sleeping over in situations that were all too often unsafe and unpleasant. Now I get to sleep in my own bed almost every single night. What could be finer?