Acorns

The Acorns Are Falling

~ beetleypete ~ 20 Comments

This year is a very ‘bad’ year for acorns, depending on your point of view. The hot summer has produced a bumper crop on the large oaks at the front and back of the house, so we are now suffering something of an ‘acorn avalanche’. This old post gives some idea what that is like, and not many of you have seen it before.

beetleypete

A sure sign that the season is changing, the sound of falling acorns is upon us in Beetley.

I should give some background, to make this all easier to picture. I could just post a lot of photos, but that would be far too easy. When we first viewed this house, one of the things we most liked about it, was the presence of two large oak trees. One is at the front of the property, and the other in the back garden. On a Google Earth viewing, they can easily be seen, dominating the comparatively small plot. As it is a bungalow, they do not intrude on the roof, and provide valuable shade, as well as an attractive ‘canopy’ over most of the property. They are both very old, perhaps over three hundred years or more, with the larger one in the garden, though the one at the front…

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Autum Arrives early

~ beetleypete ~ 60 Comments

As the heatwave here continus unabated, and we get a Summer we didn’t expect, it is hard to imagine Autumn, with its fresher days, and chilly mornings.

But I was woken up many times during the night by a familiar sound that I hadn’t heard since late last September.

The acorns were falling from the oak trees. Dozens of them. They clattered onto the garden furniture, and bounced off the flat roof of the kitchen extension. Some even bounced high enough to strike the bedroom windows. The sound is not unlike distant rifle fire, and the random nature of it makes it hard to get back to sleep once you start to notice it.

Once I was thus disturbed, I could also hear the metallic clang as acorns from the other large oak at the front began to cascade down onto our two parked cars.

I had to take Ollie out much earlier today, due to the afternoon heat building up at his normal time. As we walked around Hoe Rough, small leaves were fluttering down around us like green butterflies. Looking up at the small and large trees, I could see much of the new growth was already falling, leaving bare twigs behind that poked up at the sky like skeletal fingers.

I had never seen Autumn in a heatwave before.

But I have now.

Signs Of Autumn

~ beetleypete ~ 54 Comments

As August comes to a close, the familiar signs of autumn are appearing in Beetley. The grass has stopped growing on the lawn, and the roses have all died off on the bushes. With the first strong breezes we have had for some time now, small branches and leaves are beginning to drop from the two oak trees that cover our front and back gardens.

Last night was the first time for days that I was able to sleep untroubled by unpleasant humidity, and there was even a light mist when I woke up this morning.

But by far the biggest sign is that the acorns are falling. They are falling in their hundreds, rattling off the various roof areas, outside furniture, and guttering. Our cars parked at the front are being bombarded with a noisy fusillade, and every flat surface is almost covered in the empty shells, acorn nuts, or both.

Shifting these things is an annual task. The only animals that eat acorns are pigs, and EU rules forbid feeding acorns to pigs now. So they have to be swept into piles, collected into a garden waste bin, and sent off to be used in compost. I cannot imagine how long it takes for the extremely hard shells of acorns to break down, but I suspect it is a long time indeed.

And as I carry out this collection, I have to be careful. Get hit by one, and it is just like being struck by a falling stone. And woe betide you tread on one with bare feet, as it is not unlike stepping on broken glass.

Once the wind gets up, a new kind of sleepless night arrives. One where the sound of falling acorns striking the windows and paths resembles gunfire, and makes it hard to sleep undisturbed.

But this is country living, as the seasons change.

Acorn attack!

~ beetleypete ~ 27 Comments

At the end of August 2013, I wrote a post about acorns. I gave it the title ‘The Acorns are falling’, and described the sheer volume of these hard seeds that drop from the two oaks at the front and back of our house. In 2015, I wrote another post, ‘The Acorn season’, about how we had not seen any large falls of acorns for two years. I was beginning to wonder if that would be my last ever post about acorns.

But it was not to be.

Perhaps the unusually wet and humid weather is to blame, but whatever the reason, this year looks to be a bumper year for oak trees to produce acorns. Fairly recently, we noticed how the branches were full of large nuts, and thought about just how much work they would provide for us this coming autumn. For anyone who has not read the previous posts, or knows nothing about acorns, two large trees such as ours can produce an incredible amount of the large nut-like seeds. And when I say an incredible amount, I really do mean it. They can carpet the ground everywhere, and cover the lawn until you can’t see the grass beneath.

Clearing them up is easy enough on pathways or the patio. When they get into soft ground, that’s another matter entirely. They have to be raked, then brushed, then finally the most stubborn have to be dealt with individually. Leave some behind, and you soon have burgeoning young saplings, threatening to undermine everything around them. But that job is probably going to happen in a couple of months. In the meantime, we have to endure the attack of the early acorns.

Both trees are very large, and are between 250-300 years old. The tallest branches tower above the house, and offer a long drop to the highest seeds. This enables them to accelerate fast enough to hit anything with the force of a falling marble. But because they are nut-like, they also bounce. We have three flat roofs around the property. There is the garage, the shed behind it, and the kitchen extension. All of these flat surfaces provide great targets for the falling acorns, and the rubber coverings give them trampoline-like bounce for their onward progress too. Then there are the two cars, offering a nice noisy surface which to bounce from as well. Throw in three plastic wheelie bins, plus the wooden garden table and seats, and the opportunities for our acorns are many and varied.

If you can imagine some naughty schoolboys armed with catapults, supplied with a limitless amount of hard objects, and secreted a long way above your house, you might get the idea. The sound of this assault is something similar to being in the middle of urban warfare, as they ping and clatter about, like stray bullets that are missing their target. And trees do not go to sleep when it’s dark, so the sound continues all night. Very talented acorns can fall from the tree, hit one of the cars, bounce onto a rubber-covered roof, then ricochet onto a table, or patio slab. We get treated to the sound of three direct hits, instead of just the one.

Not only do we have to endure this attack, but so does Ollie the dog. He is constantly barking at the falling acorns, believing them to be a sign of an intruder, or perhaps a burglar around the back of the house. He woke Julie up at 4 am recently, barking at the sound of them hitting the roof. She couldn’t really scold him. After all, he was only doing his job. We are going to have to endure this for some time yet. The slightest breeze sends a whole regiment cascading down, and any rain will force others to fall too.

So the next time you admire some grand old oak trees, don’t forget the poor owners.

The Acorn Season

~ beetleypete ~ 21 Comments

Living with two large oak trees dominating the house has both benefits, and drawbacks. The first year we lived here, I wrote about the glut of acorns, which fell in such quantities, that they could cover your shoes as you walked. This year, there has been little sign of acorns. I have no idea what this means in respect of the biology of the trees, but suspect it has much to do with unseasonal weather conditions, earlier this year.

The problem with acorns is that nothing eats them, except pigs. EU farming policy forbids feeding them to accredited pig herds, so I can’t even give them away, for use as nutritious fodder. And contrary to popular belief, squirrels do not eat them. They prefer pine nuts, apparently. Therefore, I am pleased not to have so many of these to deal with this season, as their collection is rather tedious.

One thing we are never short of is a huge amount of fallen leaves. Considering how many have already hit the ground, and the seemingly endless circle of clearing them up, and getting them removed, I notice that the oak trees are still full of brown leaves, waiting to make the descent onto the existing piles. The beech hedge adds to this job, as it sheds its smaller leaves relentlessly too. I had thought to compost them at first, but I would need too large a space, to store them for the necessary amount of time. So, they are removed in special bins, for a fee, by the local authority. The recent high winds have at least stacked them into neat banks and piles, so armed with my oversized ‘plastic hands’, clearing away is a fast process.

It is frustrating, nonetheless. As fast as you shift them, it seems that another pile has appeared behind you, as if by magic. Even an energetic bout of clearing, leaving the area leaf-free, has little satisfaction as a reward. Go to bed, wake up the next morning, and they are all back again, like something from a Stephen King novel. Autumn seems to be getting longer, as I grow older. I started on the leaves in late September, and it is now almost Christmas.

I have a feeling that I will still be picking them up in 2016.

Autumn comes to Beetley

~ beetleypete ~ 9 Comments

Despite the unseasonal weather, (it was 24 C here today) it is more than obvious that Autumn has arrived. I spent a fair amount of time this week collecting the first fall of leaves and twigs from the oaks, as well as attempting to shift some of the many acorns. Another good few hours were spent trimming the leylandii hedges that shelter two sides of the garden. I had neglected them last year, and paid the penalty for this, with hard work. Standing some ten feet high, and almost five feet deep, this is not a job to be tackled lightly, or in bad weather. Most of the difficult bits have to be got at from the top rung of a ladder, with almost all of my body at full stretch, perched precariously on the bulk of the hedge, as I reach across. The thickest branches had to be dealt with by sawing, and each remainder would have made an acceptable Christmas Tree, for an average room. The unexpectedly good weather allowed me to get on with this job, which I could no longer put off. The end result is a satisfyingly neat double row of hedge, and more light allowed into the gardens of the neighbouring houses. I also have the scars to show battle was done, with marks from twigs, the strange redness of an allergic reaction to the pine needles, and muscles aching all over my legs and wrists.

It is getting foggy in the mornings, and dark earlier. By 7.30 in the evening, our lights are on, and by 8, it is completely black outside. The fields nearby are being ploughed, and at times the smell of the manure, and other fertilisers, is all-pervasive between here and Dereham. The leaves are turning; gold before brown, some pale and lifeless. Walking with Ollie today in the afternoon heat, we wandered in the direction of Gingerbread Corner. The vast acres of blackcurrant bushes have now been harvested; the fruit that was rejected by the farmer now fought over by hundreds of starlings. They in turn are mobbed by dozens of crows, swooping down from high nests in the Poplars lining the Holt Road, their cry of ‘caw-caw’ building to an unpleasant cacophony. Squirrels are much in evidence, rapidly gathering nuts to store against the coming winter. So many are scurrying around, Ollie is unsure which one to chase first, and just stands and cries in frustration.

Once at the plum orchards, lack of rainfall, and the cessation of watering by the farmer, shows in the remaining crop. This time of year normally sees many unpicked plums still hanging in plump clusters on the short trees. Today, all that was visible were hundreds of shrivelled and blackened fruits, dehydrated and dead on their stalks. A little further on, there is a pleasant area left fallow this year, home to attractive wildflowers, and recently, scores of sunflowers; not cultivated, just growing randomly. Their huge yellow heads, with the dark centres of seeds, helped to brighten a familiar walk. On inspection this afternoon, they have lost petals, the seeds are dry, and the heads are beginning to droop down, as if the flower is sad, or unwell.

This summer of mixed blessings will soon be just a memory. Clear nights, cold winds from the north, Halloween, Bonfire Night, and other seasonal festivities will replace the joy of light evenings, and wide-open windows. Autumn is here.

The Reluctant Gardener

~ beetleypete ~ 18 Comments

For the last twelve years that I lived in London, I was in a small flat, on the third floor of an old block. I always yearned for a garden. Not the extensive ornamental kind, with lawns trimmed neater than crew-cuts; just somewhere to sit outside, during those few balmy evenings that we English laughingly refer to as The Summer. Our garden in Beetley seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Like Goldilocks’s porridge, it was neither one thing, nor the other, but just right. Shaded by large oaks, with the benefit of a sunken patio large enough to accommodate a table and chairs, it is mainly, as Estate Agents say, ‘laid to lawn’. On two sides, tall leylandii hedges offer privacy from view, and on the third, a good fence and some smaller shrubs complete the square. From the back of the house to the limits of the grass is less than sixty feet, and it is the width of the plot. So not a big a challenge, even for an unskilled, and somewhat reluctant gardener. Raised flower beds either side of the steps up to the lawn, and a feature bed at the far end, made from old railway sleepers, complete the picture. At the front of the property, there is a similar raised bed under the front oak, and a small strip of grass, screened by beech hedges. In front of, and beside the garage, there is enough room to park three cars, and most of this off-road area is covered in gravel, to avoid churning up the soil with car tyres.

Unfortunately, the previous owner did not spend wisely, and chose the cheapest materials for almost everything. The lawn is not premium turf, but lumpy meadow-clumps, made up of different types of grass. The bricks used for the raised beds do not weather, and once soaked with the rains, they crumble in the frost. The leylandii has been attacked by a virus (as have others nearby) and is dying off in places, leaving unsightly brown patches. At the front, the ground was not really prepared before the gravel was laid, so the stones have driven into the soil, pressed flat by the cars, and the passage of time. This allows weeds and grass to sprout through the stones, and if left, they give the place an unkempt appearance. The flower beds around the shrubs were never delineated correctly, and were not weeded before any planting. The consequence is a constant battle against weeds, creepers, ivy, and other nuisances. Even a fresh cut of the lawn is unsatisfying. Years of garden play equipment, and a large paddling pool left on the lawn, have resulted in areas of struggling grass in patches, and uneven growth all over. The patio slabs have weeds growing in the cracks, and they require constant attention to keep them even and neat. The sheer volume of leaves dumped by the two oaks, has to be seen to be believed. And they all have to be raked  up, swept into piles, and disposed of. The twigs and acorns accompanying the leaves manage to become embedded in the lawn, and have to be hand-plucked for removal.

The solutions could be simple. Have the lawn removed, and re-laid with new turf. Knock down the brick beds, and rebuild with better materials. Scrape up the gravel driveway, apply weed-killer, a plastic membrane, and a thick layer of fresh stones. Have the diseased leylandii replaced with beech hedges, or ornamental birch. Cut a nice border, remove all weeds, and replace the soil with healthy new compost. Cover all this with bark, or a similar inhibitor, and hope that solves the problem. Perhaps we should have the whole area attractively landscaped, with a path laid to the rotary washing-line, and much of the grass removed. After all, we don’t lie on it, we sit in chairs or loungers, on those increasingly rare pleasant days. If you say all this quickly, it seems feasible. But it all costs a ridiculous amount of money. Removing the hedges and planting a replacement, would on its own, cost over three thousand pounds. I got one estimate for a small landscaping of the back, from a company that is not too expensive, and that came to almost six thousand pounds. That’s not going to happen then.

We are left with the last resort. An untalented and unskilled gardener. A man of little experience, rare enthusiasm, and no artistic flair for such a project. Someone who gets tired easily after three or four hours working ‘the land’, and wakes up the following day, stiff and aching. A man lacking finesse, who manages to break the simplest garden implements, from lack of expertise, or poor application. A person for whom the prospect of shovelling a small mountain of earth and gravel to create a new drive, seems like one of the labours of Hercules. A city-dweller in an unfamiliar environment, who prefers to sit and view, rather than to toil and create.

That will be me then.

The Acorns are falling

~ beetleypete ~ 34 Comments

A sure sign that the season is changing, the sound of falling acorns is upon us in Beetley.

I should give some background, to make this all easier to picture. I could just post a lot of photos, but that would be far too easy. When we first viewed this house, one of the things we most liked about it, was the presence of two large oak trees. One is at the front of the property, and the other in the back garden. On a Google Earth viewing, they can easily be seen, dominating the comparatively small plot. As it is a bungalow, they do not intrude on the roof, and provide valuable shade, as well as an attractive ‘canopy’ over most of the property. They are both very old, perhaps over three hundred years or more, with the larger one in the garden, though the one at the front is a little higher. They also overhang three neighbouring houses, though they were not there when this bungalow was built, in 1979.

We were informed by the previous owner, that they are subject to a preservation order. They cannot be felled, or deliberately damaged, and any work carried out on them must be done by an approved arborist. This can be expensive, but only has to be done every five years or so, to keep the classic shape of the oak tree. The nearby houses also have to contribute to this, as the parts of the tree that overhang their properties are deemed to be their responsibility. The previous owner had lived here since 1987, and had undertaken extensive renovations, and improvements to the original bungalow. These included an extension at the rear, to enlarge the former kitchen into a comfortable kitchen/diner, and the building of a shed extension, immediately connected to the rear of the detached garage. This left us inheriting three flat roofs, the garage, shed, and kitchen. That was fine, as there was still plenty of space in the garden, as well as a good-sized patio. We bought the house in 2011, and though we could not move in at the time, we would come up for weekends and holidays.

Staying here for two weeks in September 2011, we first noticed the sound of the falling acorns. They are quite large things, and are naturally hard, the inner nut the size of a bullet, contained in a durable outer casing. The trees are around 40-50 feet to the top branches, so the farthest acorns can build up speed, as they plummet to the ground. Unfortunately, most do not make it to the softer grass, or surrounding borders. Instead, they hit the flat roofs, like a constant barrage of gunfire. Bird activity in the trees, or strong winds, can provoke an attack by hundreds of small hard projectiles within moments. If you happen to be outside, you will be showered by those missing the roofs, and others will be bouncing around, like ricocheting missiles. At night, the drumming of these things constantly falling can make it hard to sleep. Even if there is a lull, there will still be the occasional thud, as one strikes. I don’t know which is worse, the continuous pattering, or the intermittent thwacks.

After a good scattering, the lawn and outside areas have to be seen to be believed. Acorns, twigs, and bits of leaf can lay up to two inches deep everywhere. As you start to sweep them, the sheer size of the problem becomes apparent. A whole wheelie bin is filled in minutes, followed by bag after bag of nuts and shucks, which naturally, are still falling, even as you try to clear the first load. The amount of these things is incredible, and they just keep coming. The gutters are filled, and have to be cleared out every couple of days. The flower beds are inundated, and they have to be cleared as well, or we will end up with hundreds of small oak trees. The flat roofs have a crunchy topping of fresh acorn, but it is hardly worth trying to shift them, as they will eventually dry out, and do no harm up there. It is a necessary but time-consuming job, that becomes boring, very quickly. When they are not hitting the flat roofs, they are striking the main sloping roof, bouncing down the tiles like the ball in a pinball machine. They didn’t tell us about the acorns. Oh no.

Some suggest that it would be a good idea to ‘import’ squirrels, in the hope that they would eat them all. Despite being portrayed clutching acorns, it seems that squirrels do not actually eat them. In fact, the only animal that can eat, and digest, these hard kernels, is a pig. Pigs naturally forage in woodland, and have developed a taste for acorns over the centuries. However, despite the presence nearby of hundreds of farmed pigs, they are not allowed to eat our acorns. EU rules are strict, when it comes to the diet of animals for human consumption, so I am not able to drive my bags of nuts over to the pig farm, and tip them into the food hoppers. They go for composting, (hopefully) removed in Council vehicles, or by me in the car, to the local dump. The carbon footprint of the humble acorn is greater than my own.

It will be the leaves next. Just read this post, substitute ‘leaves’ for ‘acorns’, and you will get the idea.