Green leaves on the hornbeam
At last it seems like Spring – although there is still a slight nip in the air. I went for a wonderful morning walk in the fields to visit the hornbeam I have been following for Loose and Leafy.
The first time I visited, I walked across muddy rugby pitches; the second time I walked up along a steep main road; the third time I took a bus and it went the “wrong” way. This time I got it right, starting at a slightly different entrance to the fields and sticking to the footpaths.
I was relieved to find that the park men’s chainsaws had been replaced by mowers…
The lawnmowers are out for the parks department…
After passing MANY beautiful trees (and taking well over 100 pictures – of which more in another post) I had first sight of “my” tree. Hooray! It was green…
First view of the hornbeam from a different direction – it’s the one in the middle…
It is such an ODD tree. I sometimes don’t recognise it as the same tree when I get up close. It is narrow from one direction and spread out like a fan from another. Above is the narrow view. Below is the wide view…
The hornbeam spread out like a fan…
A closer view…
That eye gives it such character…
But what does it remind me of?
An upside-down octopus?
Or Mr Cheestring?
Green haze at the top of the tree…
How do trees “know” when to break into leaf? This hornbeam is much behind a smaller hornbeam alongside a street nearby – is it because of age, or size, or the warmth of houses on the street?
I passed dozens of magnificent horse chestnuts on my walk and they were all in different stages of leafiness. The ash trees, limes and sycamores were also getting on with it, but there was no sign of green on the great oak trees. Who knows?
Quite a few delicate new leaves now…
Still some catkins hold on…
Most of the catkins had now fallen and were lying around like fat and furry caterpillars – or the tails of thousands of tiny cats. The words are related – the late Middle English word caterpillar comes from the Old French chatepelose, meaning “hairy cat”, possibly also influenced by the old word piller, meaning “ravager”. Most sources I can find say the word catkin comes from the old Dutch katteken, meaning “kitten”.
Fallen catkins on a tree root – which looks as hard as stone…
More catkins – on a piece of concrete…
Bird feather among the catkins – perhaps from a wood pigeon? There are many living in the vicinity…
Lichen (Platismatia glauca?) and moss on the hornbeam trunk – I quite like the accidental focus on this one…
Lucy Corrander has a great idea called a “stuck-foot post“, “where you put your foot down and don’t move till you’ve seen what you can see and photographed what you need for your blog.” Recently this led her to see some wonderful black oil beetles.
I’m afraid I am impatient. So I couldn’t stand still for long and didn’t see any insects. I hope that will improve as the weather gets warmer.
There were lots of plants under the tree, though, all very low-growing, hugging the grassy ground…
Lesser celandine (Ranunculus ficaria)…
Daisy (Bellis perennis)…
Dock leaves (probably Rumex obtusifolius)…
I always call this cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris), but I don’t know if that is correct…
Close up, you can see water droplets among the flower buds…
And more dew (or rain) on the grass – I can’t begin to identify grasses… any ideas?
An old oak leaf among the tree roots – possibly some kind of red oak, as the lobes are pointed? Plus a tiny green tree seedling…
The only leaves I could see in detail – growing from the base of the tree. They look a bit pale…
Standing under the tree and looking up, I am filled with wonder every time…
Looking up…
There’s so much of it…
The ends of the twigs are so far away…
I’d like to say thank you so much to Lucy for getting me out walking again – I had become a bit deskbound in recent years.
I see she calls “her” tree Freda. I am tempted to call mine Jim – after Jim Beam bourbon (which I have never tasted) – Jim Hornbeam, get it? But maybe not. We’ll see if the name sticks…
Goodbye until next time… Jim Hornbeam in the middle, between two mighty oaks…
More of my tree posts here.
And Loose and Leafy’s tree following page here.
The Squirrelbasket 
A great post. You always entertain me with your observations.
I have 2 horse chestnuts quite near to each other and one is much further into leaf than the other. I am puzzled by this.
Jim? Your magnificent hornbeam is so majestic it seems a bit over familiar to call him Jim. A bit like calling the Queen Lizzie.
Thanks again for your kind words – I will be over to read your mulberry posting in more detail this weekend, I hope!
I see Jim Beam’s full name was James Beauregard Beam, so that’s a bit more formal…
But I’m not even sure whether trees are male or female, really. This one could equally be a magnificent lady in a frothy green lace gown…
All the best 🙂
Loving the humour 🙂 We have leaves unfurling on the oaks Pat.
Thank you 🙂
I guess it is nearly tropical in Dorset…
I tweeted you a picture of one of the oaks!
Yes, saw that, thanks – must soon go out looking for ours again…
Best wishes 🙂
James the Tree seems appropriately sedate and respectful. He shows up very clearly and dignified from your new angle. And his foot certainly looks as if it’s made of stone. Moved by the picture with the caption ‘There’s so much of it.’
Thank you Lucy. Although I may even give the tree James Beam’s middle name of Beauregard!
I certainly am amazed looking up into the hornbeam. Hopefully there will be plenty more to interest us as the year goes on…
I see your Freda presents similar problems of the leaves/needles (and cones) being a long way away.
Thanks again so much for your tree following idea. I’m hoping to go over and visit a lot more of the others soon.
It is interesting how 2 trees right next to each other, come into leaf at different times.
It lovely to see the leaves appearing on your hornbeam. It’s a wonderful view looking up! Sarah x
I wish the Spring part of the year lasted longer, really, as there is too much to take in.
I also love the tiny hands of the horse chestnuts when they come out in a big mass, but I dare say I will miss the vital moment…
All the best – loved your daffodils in Cornwall – just catching up with lots of posts 🙂