Eclipse

Marshians can’t resist the strange alignments of celestial bodies.

We gathered deep in the marsh to watch the sun pass between the earth and the moon. That explained the heat which late in the day was quite something.

As the sun moved away and the darkness fell so did the heat. We huddled in a small group on a patch of sedges we stomped flat, musing at the mathematics involved in working out how to predict celestial movements. As we were told to wait up for the Perseid shower we spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the sky watching countless bits of space hardware drifting about the stars. We fell asleep often. The cold and the damp soon got through our blankets and woke us and we would see a few more meteors flash across the sky.

At first light damp and chilled to the bone we were up, some brewing some tea, some going for a walk to restore blood circulation.

It was a real delight to get so cold just after such a close encounter with the sun.

All week nearby landscapes were burning. Our marsh was cold and wet. Another virtue that marshians appreciated

It didn’t last. It was soon hot and oppressive and even though it was cooler than it had been the heatwave lingered. And our next visit was nowhere near so cool.

We were back after the dreaded balsam. It was a really inaccessible patch, deep in reeds thistles brambles and barbed wire fences.

And it was hot.

There were many flowers that had gone to seed and the seed pods were exploding at the slightest touch. We gently lowered each flower head into a bag and pulled it off. Then we pulled up the rest of the plant from the roots.

We filled a sack of flowers and seeds that was almost too heavy to carry.

It seems like an impossible task. Flowers are appearing in areas we had thoroughly cleared two weeks ago. But a sack filled with flowers and seeds that will never grow into plants is a measure of success.

We stopped for a break.

As we sat on a tussock eating our crisps a wasp spider came and sat down beside us.

We weren’t frightened away. We shared some time admiring her and her beautiful web.

We stopped for blackberries on the way home. Warm ripe blackberries like little bunches of grapes.

Then the beaver gang headed out.

The water has almost all gone from the Reed bed. The Holy brook has fed this field for years but it is so low now there is no water to spare.

When or if the levels ever rise we don’t want to lose all the water. So we tried to get the broken sluice fixed, but it’s still a work in progress. We’ll have to find a way to hang on to the inevitable rain somehow. It is inevitable isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Success at the other end of the marsh though is very rewarding.