Hedgerow Diary—Cartmel Valley, 2021/22
When lockdown kept me from the mountains, I woke up to what was right on my doorstep. During those first few weeks of tight restrictions, I would make a daily circuit of four country lanes. As the restrictions eased, I ranged a little further, exploring in earnest the low hills that ring the Cartmel Valley.
But that short walk around the lanes remained, and still remains, my lunchtime ramble. It’s a landscape very like the one where I grew up: small rotational farms; hay meadows rich in wildflowers; compact fields with hedges and wide margins where micro wildernesses thrive.
The more I focused on the minutiae, the more I saw: a perpetually changing cycle of life, growth, decay, and regeneration. As the hedgerows became more familiar, they became less familiar, and I came to appreciate how they constantly evolve.
I started to learn the names of the wildflowers, the types of lichen even, and from May 2021, I began to keep a diary of photographs and descriptive writing—a paragraph or two, roughly every two weeks, documenting those changes.
The following pages are that diary. They chart twelve months in the life of the hedgerows and hillsides of the Cartmel Valley.
Navigation: each month has its own page. Use the green buttons to move through sequentially or the picture links below to jump straight to a particular month.
Thanks, George . . . Fortunate aren’t we, having stuff like that on our doorsteps. A lovely read.
Thank you, David. Yes we are very fortunate indeed.
A change of style, George, which is always worth doing to refresh yourself. At times, the intensity of the focus upon the leaves and flowers of the hedgerows was reminiscent of ‘The Wind in the Willows’.
That’s a mighty compliment, Martin. Thank you.
Well that was a treat. So many familiar faces from the New Forest when I was growing up. I’ve not heard that called witches butter, excellent name.
Thank you, Geoff. Delighted you enjoyed it. Witches’ butter is indeed an excellent name.
Brilliant – you are like a Lakeland Richard Jefferies.
Thank you so much, John.
Very nicely done, and informative as always.
Thank you, that’s very kind.
Really good article(s) ! Don’t think I ever heard of Lesser Celandine before. They are among my favorites of your photos. The forget-me-nots too. And the kid.
Thank you, Neil. The kid was adorable. Lesser celandine flower early which makes them a welcome sight. They are supposed to be natural barometers, unfurling their petals in good weather and closing up against the wind and rain. They’re all gone now. Replaced by buttercups or crowfoot, which they superficially resemble l.
I was looking for inspirational poetry in my books yesterday, but found it here in words and wonderful pictures.
Hanna
That’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you do much.
George, thank you for sharing such an enjoyable diary and processional, elegant writing and wonderful photos. The obvious sincerity of this paean to your corner of the earth is heartwarming, and even the intrusion of news from the Ukraine fits in, honest reporting, like becoming aware of ominous buzzing from a disturbed hornet nest. The colors may change and fade, but I will remain green with envy that this wealth of nature is available for your lunchtime strolls.
Thank you, Robert. That’s a wonderful compliment. I love the hornet nest image.
P.S. I’d wanted to comment on your Loweswater article, that the tale of supernatural death has prompted me to add to my List of Dangerous Things to Avoid, Even if Properly Sanitized After Usage Near Wrong End of Horse: “Crupper/Horsey Bits of Demonic Leathergoods Leaping Out At You in Stairwells/Entanglements & Possible Stranglings,” actually a brand-new category.
Yes, very wise. Perhaps they should come with a government health warning.
—and someone asked me the other day: ‘have you any holiday plans this year’?
Christina (Cockermouth)
Yes, indeed! We are very lucky living where we do. Cockermouth is beautiful.