|I can adjust this photo to make the colours more true to life - less blue.|
I tried it. I didn't like it.
I like this faded original better.
For all that I've encouraged you to follow a tree for a year when I set out to visit mine I almost always go with a heavy heart and the expectation of boredom. Why did I choose a pine? Pines don't 'do' anything The answer of course, is the same as the complaint - they don't 'do' anything. I wanted a challenge. But if I had to chose a challenge, why did that have to include the lowest branches being masses of feet above my head? I simply can't see what's up there.
I revisit the bark. I revisit the plants at its foot. I might find and insect in the road. I've done it all (yawn, yawn) - would there be anything new? How could there be.
What there was - was one of the most startling experiences I've had with any tree. And if I hadn't stood there wondering what to photograph, I would never have known . . . the very fact I had to stand there was what brought me something wonderful and new.
I'll save it for the end.
First though - I'm learning how frequently the grass is mown. The Chickweed (Stellaria media) which was there in March and April has gone and a bramble has taken its place.
On the trunk - there's a yellow snail resting in a crack in the bark..
And here's the resin I can't stop being intrigued by. The sun is making a star on a globule.
And . . . and . . . when I get home and crop the picture I notice there's an odd white thing in the frame. I'ts probably about 4mm long. Anyone know what it is?
At the time though, I was so entranced by the globule I'd forgotten to take care of my feet - and stumbled over this cone.
Other cones I've found have been brown and closed. This one is green on the outside - and inside, if you look, the colour is a beautiful chestnut brown. A careful designer could have made this cone. I'd cover a sofa in its colours.
On it's back, where the cone was attached to the tree, you can see how the scales (scales? is this a dragon?) are arranged in whirls reminiscent of the snail on the other side of the tree.
But . . . but . . . something is happening. There's a strange and persistent clicking. I'd assumed a child was tapping something while walking down the road. I turn. There's no-one there. Maybe someone's playing with a clicker in a nearby garden. If so, it must be a specially interesting clicker because they won't stop. All the time they click and click and click. Then, all of a sudden, they click loudly in a burst. Clickclickclickclick . . . But it isn't a child. It isn't a clicker. It's the tree. I cross the road to where there are others like it. They are doing it too.
The only way I can record sound is to take a video. So here is our tree - not moving but 'talking'.
I imagine the cones are opening their scales to eject their seeds. You might want to turn up the sound to hear.
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Click here for Tree Following posts written by other bloggers in July 2014.
All photos in this post - and the video - were taken on July 10th 2014.