1 March 2013 I was struck today by a comment in Grimaldi & Engel (2007) Why Descriptive Science Still Matters. Bioscience 57 (8) : “Even the most prosaic description is actually a highly selective account of features that are found to be significant in comparison with related things. As a result, there is no such thing as a perfectly complete description or a perfectly complete classification or organization system; as descriptions become more refined and thorough, so do the systems of organization.”
It seems I still have a long way to go with Emthree.
2 March 2013 I have set out two half watermelon skins on the north west and south west sides of the Green Sanctuary to see what happens to them. If full of water they will, of course, act like water bowl traps for insects. That might be quite interesting as they will, of course, retain some of the esters and other aromatic chemicals of the fruit.
The pendulous sedge Carex pendula in Medlar Wood has been eaten down by at least 50% by rabbits, but I am sure it will recover.
3 March 2013 The newly arrived chestnut round was scattered with tiny dark brown objects like spiky moles. Close examination showed these to be dead scales from the Lawson’s cypress hedge behind the metre.
The tiny heart-shaped dead and empty seed ponds of heath speedwell Veronica officinalis are a distinctive feature of the dry grass and the plant, as the Online Atlas of the British and Irish Flora points out, “grows on well-drained, often moderately acidic or leached soils, and in some grasslands is confined to raised ground or anthills”. Our plants do best on raised ground and anthills.
4 March 2013 I photographed to small holly discovered yesterday behind Midsummer Pond. It is decidedly yellowish green rather than the dark racing green of normal holly, so I shall have to watch it closely. A wire rabbit guard is called for.
It was a fine sunny day, the first I think with spring in the air. The birds were singing loudly and the grass had a flattened, dull, post-winter cast.
The leaf bud on a wild rose was swelling with joy above the winter thorns.
