June

Tuesday 28th June 2005: Bees love borage and if you walk into a field of it at this time of the year you will find them at their busiest. Borage (Borago officinalis) is a herb with brilliant blue, star-like flowers and greyish-green leaves and may be seen growing during the summer months on banks and in hedges.  It can be used for many purposes, the young leaves in salads or infused to make a refreshing drink. The flowers will add flavour to a claret cup and can be candied to decorate confectionery while honey is also an excellent by product. I found this specially planted crop at Wilsthope, four miles south of Bourne, where a local bee keeper had moved ten of his portable hives, each containing flourishing colonies of several thousand bees, to the field's edge to take advantage of the sudden abundance of nectar created  by the flowers and will no doubt soon be reaping the benefit with many jars of much sought after Lincolnshire borage honey.

Friday 24th June 2005: The villages of South Lincolnshire look their best on hot summer days and it is a pleasure to visit them, particularly Edenham, three miles to the north west of Bourne, which has retained much of its charm from past centuries. Recent installations such as unsightly cables and supporting posts do mar the skyline although the red telephone kiosk has found an affectionate place in the street scene. This road is the A151, once a cart track but the double yellow lines and traffic lights regulating vehicles crossing the narrow stone bridge on the left are a reminder that it is now the main route between Bourne and the Great North Road, bringing a regular flow of cars and lorries through what was once a quiet and secluded corner of England.

Friday 20th June 2002: There seem to be more poppies around in the countryside this year, mainly at the edge of fields where they have been missed by the crop sprayers, and they are always a delightful sight on a hot summer's day with a backdrop of green corn. There are also small patches on the roadside verges, such as those here which I found today on the road between Elsthorpe and Bulby, north of Bourne, with an intrusive ox-eye daisy joining the company. Poppies are the most resilient of our wild flowers and certainly the most colourful and to see them in profusion is a reminder of what we have lost to intensive farming and agro-chemicals.

Tuesday 10th June 2003: The Bourne Eau runs south from the town behind the houses in Eastgate and then out into the fen where it joins the River Glen. This stretch of water could be one of the most attractive spots in Bourne but the scene is invariably marred because of rubbish and a lack of maintenance along the waterway although the grass and weeds on the south bank have been cut in recent weeks to provide easy access for walkers. The state of the river does not seem to deter the mute swans that have made their home here and this one has built its nest immediately outside someone's back door while nearby is the beer terrace of the Anchor Inn and so it is fairly certain that its diet is supplemented by a regular supply of crisps and morsels of bar food. 

Tuesday 3rd June 2003: Bourne Wood is full of paths and tracks, some well-trodden and others hardly used and leading either to a secluded and secret glade or perhaps to nowhere except a dense thicket. This is the charm of this place because each outing is different for the adventurous who are prepared to explore those areas they have not been in or seen before. But no matter where you are in this forest, you are never far from a place to sit down, a necessity for the older generation and the sight of a seat in the distance spurs you on to greater effort to reach it. These wooden benches have been erected by the Forestry Commission at strategic intervals to enable visitors sit and stay awhile and take in the surroundings and some have brass plates placed here by relatives and friends as a reminder of loved ones who once walked these paths but have since died and what better memorial to those who found such pleasure in walking these woodland ways.

Saturday 22nd June 2002: Wild roses abound in the English countryside at this time of the year and can be found in the woods and hedgerows alongside the roadside verges around Bourne in great numbers. They look so fragile yet some have the most delicate and exquisite scent but it is dangerous to pick them because they are protected by razor-sharp, hooked prickles that can tear into the skin of the unwary. There are several species but the most familiar is the dog-rose (Rosa canina), a wild ancestor of the garden rose which was the symbol of the Tudor kings of England but it is thought to derive its name from an ancient Greek belief that it would cure a person who had been bitten by a mad dog. The flowers can be shell-pink or white and their stems arch and scramble in the hedgerow and twine their way around the trees in the woods. When the petals fall, red berry-like fruit or hips form and these can be made into jelly and syrup because they are rich in Vitamin C. During World War Two, when nourishing food was scarce, the government sent us kids out into the hedgerows to collect them and in 1943 alone, some 500 tons of rose hips were amassed in this way and processed to provide children with rose hip syrup as a supplement to the meagre diet that resulted from food rationing. Today, this vast natural commodity is mostly left to the birds. We found these wild roses on one of the country lanes near Braceborough, four miles south west of Bourne, and stopped for some time to enjoy their company.

Tuesday 18th June 2002: Frequent rain in recent weeks has ensured that our countryside has maintained the lush green colour that we expect in England at this time of the year but now the cereal crops have started to ripen and the first tinges of gold and yellow are beginning to appear. We found this field of barley this evening in the undulating farmland near Braceborough, to the south west of Bourne, part of the corn belt of South Lincolnshire that regularly produces high yield crops. The bearded, nodding heads of barley have a soft appearance in the field which contrasts with the crispness of wheat and there is less of it of because more barley is grown in Britain than any other arable crop. It is more tolerant of climate and therefore more widespread, providing an excellent animal feed and around 75% of the annual output is converted into meat, milk and eggs, often without even leaving the farm and goes straight from the combine into the feed hoppers.

Tuesday 11th June 2002: I found this neglected grave in Bourne cemetery today and wondered why it had not been preserved in better order because it is that of a woman who left her money for the benefit of the town. Yesterday, I read that more than 350,000 people have been killed by traffic since 1945 in Britain alone, more than all of this country's fatalities during the Second World War, and yet Bourne is about to erect a memorial to Raymond Mays for his work in developing faster motor cars. This grave is the last resting place of Emma Searson, an 87-year-old widow who died in 1934 and left an estate worth £440,000 by today's values, much of it to charity and the fund established in her name still produces an income which is spent for the good of the community. Yet her grave is neglected and overgrown and the tombstone has toppled over, hiding her name and the inscription, while weeds sprout to obliterate her last resting place.

Monday 10th June 2002: The fine weather we have come to expect in June has eluded us so far this month and we have been into a prolonged period of intermittent wind, rain and cold. But every cloud has a silver lining and these erratic meteorological conditions have brought with them changing skies that can be seen at their best over the flat fenland landscape that is a common feature of the countryside around Bourne. One of the most stunning views is from my first floor study window overlooking farmland between the northerly outskirts of the town and Dyke village and the past few days have brought a kaleidoscope of pattern and colour illustrating every imaginable cloud formation as the rain gives way to sun and back again, sometimes several times in each hour. There are those who say that the fens are flat and boring but perhaps they have never looked upwards to see such an open and unending skyscape.

Sunday 2nd June 2002: Most home owners take a pride in their gardens and try to provide a splash of colour during the spring and summer months and a walk through the streets of Bourne at this time of the year will provide many attractive examples, with flower beds enhanced by the purchase of bedding plants and hanging baskets from the garden centres. Our own route through the streets for a frequent evening walk takes us past a garden where the perimeter is lined with roses that skirt the footpath for several yards and at this time of year they provide a galaxy of colour and a nosegay of scent for this gardener knows his business and tends his plants with loving care, pruning them carefully in the autumn and nurturing them through their flowering period. We always stop and admire this tapestry of reds and yellows, oranges and whites, and to enjoy the bouquet that they cast upon the evening air, for these are roses at their very best and here they are in a private garden and yet planted in a position for every passer-by to enjoy.

Thursday 14th June 2001: The days when May turns into June are the most worthwhile time to be alive and there is always enjoyment to be had walking out in the early morning and seeing the countryside bursting into new life with a green freshness that you cannot find at any other time of the year. We are now seeing the May blossom in profusion and its bitter sweet scent is everywhere, in country lanes, meadow paths and woodland rides, where hedgerows are covered with clusters of small white flowers that are the very essence of springtime. Add a carpet of golden buttercups and the idyllic scene is complete as it is here near Dyke village, just a mile north of Bourne. This is also the season of hope for better things to come and so as we walk these ways and revel in the sight and smell of these simple but beautiful flowers, our pace slows because we wish to enjoy them to the full and we are reluctant to see them fade. We therefore seek them out most days for unless you find them at the moment of their best, they will be gone for another year and such is the feeble grasp that we all have on life, we cannot depend that we will be here next year to see them again.

Friday 15th June 2001: Hawthorn hedges make good wind breaks if they are left to grow to their full height and I found one here along the field's edge on the outskirts of Braceborough, near Bourne, where this year it is protecting a crop of wheat.

Thursday 21st June 2001: A mass of burgeoning leaves and grass adorn the banks of the East Glen River at Braceborough, four miles south of Bourne, a tranquil scene that has endured for many centuries past although the persistent use of agro-chemicals has cost us most of our wild flowers. This is part of England's green and pleasant land, the rural landscape evocatively described by the painter, poet and mystic William Blake (1757-1827), and one that is remembered with a deep affection and nostalgia by all who have lived here and are now far from home. In spite of the poor treatment it gets from some farmers, our countryside retreats stubbornly in the face of such adversity although it has changed for the worse in a single lifetime. At this season of the year, it still bursts forth to give us another magnificent display but unless these practices are moderated, we cannot expect such resistance to continue indefinitely.

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