An April walk in the Ribble Valley, Part Two

Catkins appear on willow trees in April, we used to call them pussy willow when we were kids. I'm not quite sure why. probably because the the name is derived from the obsolete Dutch word, katteken, meaning kitten. The seed heads look nice photographed against a blue sky, don't you agree, but I have two large willow trees growing behind my house and they are the bane of my life. Soon the catkins will begin to fall, and they always seem to fall in my garden, bucket loads of them. On windy days the seeds blow around like snow and it's impossible to sit out in the sunshine for two whole weeks of the year. To make matters worse seedlings grow everywhere. I'm still digging out last years and soon the new ones will seed. I wish someone would cut them down and turn them into cricket bats.

Hazel catkins are also abundant in the hedgerows during April, as children we called these lambs tails, for obvious reasons. Have you ever watched a lamb when it's feeding? It wiggles it's tail happily, and when the wind blows the hazel catkins wiggle  like the tails of lambs. 

These animals are young bullocks awaiting slaughter. If you've ever walked a dog through a field of bullocks you'll know just how curious they are. They will follow, and if you stop they will stop, keeping a safe distance. If you walk towards them they will back up, but when you continue on your way they will follow for as long as the field boundaries will allow. This group were so curious that they broke down the fence while trying to check me out.

The woodland floor is carpeted with celandine at this time of year, taking advantage of the available light before the woodland canopy casts them into relative darkness. Even though the leaves are not yet on the trees I had to use a flash to take this picture. I bet some of you think I know what I'm talking about, come on admit it, but I've bought an idiots guide  to spotting wild flowers with which to identify them.

Easter has already passed us by, but then all photographs are retrospective. I was intrigued by this symbol of Easter purposely erected on the top of a small hill to represent Calvary. It appears even more poignant  because of the gorse, with its thorny crown, growing around the base of the cross. I wonder if the architect of this scene felt the same way, or if it was just a happy accident.

I've reached a signpost pointing the way back home. You can just see Whalley Nab in the distance, with the television and radio booster mast sitting on top. It's time that Pendle Forest transmitter and the Whalley Nab booster were updated, as reception is chronic around Whalley, and very few freeview channels are currently available. I bought a DAB radio a couple of years ago but it will only play on FM. What's the point of that?

On our first internet walk 200 people turned up, 84 from Russia, 49 from the UK, 41 from the USA, 22 from France, and 1 from Bulgaria, Spain, Hong Kong, and the Ukraine. If you enjoyed this walk through the Ribble Valley please share this post with your friends on Facebook and Twitter, and let's see if we can attract an even bigger crowd this time.


Some wild flowers photographed during April.

Gorse

Forget-me-not

Common daisy

Dandelion

Wood Anemone

Garlic Mustard

An April walk in the Ribble Valley.

    For health reasons I have to walk on a daily basis, wind, rain, hail, or shine, I must partake in my daily exercise. I've decided to take with me a pocket sized Kodak camera to record anything that interests  me. If you would like to accompany me on my monthly  internet walks you are more than welcome to come along.

Daffodils are synonymous with April, so I must begin my journey through April with them.   In Britain we have wild daffodils, they are small and grow in woodland, but the ones in the photograph are not of the wild variety, but garden escapees. How do daffodils escape from gardens you may well ask. One thing is for certain they didn't decide to relocate. I can understand seeds being carried on the wind or via the guts of birds, but it's difficult to understand how bulbs ended up growing by a stream, unless of course someone planted them, but why?                                                                                                                                     

  Local councils tend to plant daffodils along grass verges and on traffic islands, but not in a field next to a stream. These daffodils have been planted by Ribble Valley Borough Council on a grass verge outside of the Black Bull public house at Old Langho. They used to make great hoagies at the Black Bull with minted yogurt, perhaps they still do I'll have to re-visit and find out.

    This is a picture of the church of St Leonards at Old Langho. The church was built in 1557. The stonework, windows, and many of the fittings, are thought to have been recycled, by local people, from nearby Whalley Abbey, following the dissolution of the monasteries by order of Henry V111, after a tantrum because the Pope refused to grant him an annulment from his wife Catherine of Aragon, which would enable him to marry his mistress Anne Boleyn. 

 In woodland and hedgerows grow wild primroses. Our gardens are full of primroses, of every hue, at this time of the year, given to mothers by small children on Mothers Day, to sit on windowsills in pots, or plant outside in borders or planters along with miniature daffodils, but this is the native variety and you can have it in any colour  just  as long as it's pale yellow.

   This is the time of year for births in the animal world, and lambs are being born in large numbers during March and April. Farmers try to ensure that as many ewes as possible give birth to twins, for maximum profit at the auction, and here we have two such families wondering if I'm a threat.

  Many calves have also been born, but we don't see them, as dairy herds are still undercover until the weather settles. This Friesian cow, and her calf, are enjoying a warm day outside. I don't know who the little brown one belongs to, perhaps the same mother. He's got his ears tagged and will probably be sold on the continent for veal, as the British are a bit squeamish about eating anything cute. He's certainly very interested in me. 
    This field is on Chapel Lane and when I came to live in the Ribble Valley in 1971 a chapel stood on this site, there are certainly no signs that it ever existed now. Perhaps Time Team will one day come to dig it up.