Swithin’s day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain
St Swithin’s day, if thou be fair,
For forty days ‘twill rain nae mair
St Swithin’s day has come and gone and, indeed, it did rain so are we due a long wet summer? The rain was certainly needed by the farmers but the prospect of more just as the harvest approaches cannot be anticipated with much delight. To be honest, the weather is never quite right for the agricultural community. What pleases the stockmen isn’t the best for the grain growers and what suits the tattie growers isn’t just perfect for the rest.
For forty days it will remain
St Swithin’s day, if thou be fair,
For forty days ‘twill rain nae mair
St Swithin’s day has come and gone and, indeed, it did rain so are we due a long wet summer? The rain was certainly needed by the farmers but the prospect of more just as the harvest approaches cannot be anticipated with much delight. To be honest, the weather is never quite right for the agricultural community. What pleases the stockmen isn’t the best for the grain growers and what suits the tattie growers isn’t just perfect for the rest.
Ripening fieldsOur annual pilgrimage to the Atlantic’s edge, the Isle of Lewis trip, featured wind and rain that, even by Hebridean standards, was dreadful. You don’t expect to need factor 30, but to be confined to quarters with paper backs and crosswords in July was a bit frustrating. The St Kilda trip was cancelled and even quick local forays resulted in soakings however we did manage a few jaunts so that LotH could recharge her Gaelic batteries.
On one trip to the west side of the island, we stopped at the Norse Mill in Shawbost, having driven past it scores of times before. A restoration of an old mill of the kind that was common throughout the islands right up into the 20th century with a horizontal water wheel rather than the more familiar vertical one. the design must date back to the Iron Age. A companion building housed a simple grain drying kiln heated by a peat fire so it would seem that the farmers had problems drying their crop right back to the days of old Saint Swithin himself. Of course, they didn’t have to meet the demands of the grain buyers on moisture content or pay for diesel but I bet they grumbled just as much.
On one trip to the west side of the island, we stopped at the Norse Mill in Shawbost, having driven past it scores of times before. A restoration of an old mill of the kind that was common throughout the islands right up into the 20th century with a horizontal water wheel rather than the more familiar vertical one. the design must date back to the Iron Age. A companion building housed a simple grain drying kiln heated by a peat fire so it would seem that the farmers had problems drying their crop right back to the days of old Saint Swithin himself. Of course, they didn’t have to meet the demands of the grain buyers on moisture content or pay for diesel but I bet they grumbled just as much.
Shawbost Norse Mill
Interior of mill
http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/lewis/norsemill/index.html
Heading home with a haul of famous Stornoway black puddings and duff (dumplings, to the uninitiated) we were lucky that the North Atlantic low had moved on taking its gales with it and allowing for a reasonable crossing of the Minch.
NCC was ecstatic to have her walks reinstated, throwing herself around and rolling over with joy. A couple of long walks seemed poor recompense for such a welcome and despite the prediction in the rhyme the rain has held off for the time being.
The wild flowers are, by and large, beginning to set seed though the almond scent of the meadowsweet is still a pleasant background to our tours of village.
The swallows seem fewer this year and I have not seen a swift at all. Only two last year and none this year. Sad. The scream of the devil birds round the houses was always part of village summers. I remember picking up a young swiftlet that had landed on the ground and couldn’t get airborne again with its long wings and short legs. Place it on top of a bay window for take off and off it went. What has happened to the swifts? Cousin in Florence tells me there are dozens there. Lack of nest sites as all the old buildings get tarted up?
Perhaps the planners could make it a condition of consent that nest sites are included. I doubt it.. If they don’t return, I’ll miss them because if ever a bird lived up to its name – blackbirds are black birds: ducks do duck: fly-catchers catch flies: wagtails do wag their tails and swifts are gloriously, wondrously swift.
As Ted Hughes says in his poem Swifts, about their return
They’ve made it again,
Which means the globe’s still working,
A more perceptive observation than old St Swithin’s rhyme ever was... and all the more ominous when no swifts are seen.
Perhaps the planners could make it a condition of consent that nest sites are included. I doubt it.. If they don’t return, I’ll miss them because if ever a bird lived up to its name – blackbirds are black birds: ducks do duck: fly-catchers catch flies: wagtails do wag their tails and swifts are gloriously, wondrously swift.
As Ted Hughes says in his poem Swifts, about their return
They’ve made it again,
Which means the globe’s still working,
A more perceptive observation than old St Swithin’s rhyme ever was... and all the more ominous when no swifts are seen.
No comments:
Post a Comment