Echinacea and Rudbeckia

 I haven't written about last week's cricket match; it was so staggeringly turgid and inept by me and ultimately all the rest of us the thought of writing about it brings me out in hives.

Instead, let me take you to the cafe at Sconce Park, and the beds of pollinator friendly flowers looked after by the ranger there. The echinacea and rudbeckia are loved by bees; on a sunny day virtually every flower head while have at least one bumble feeding away, which is why I've planted echinacea, albeit a bit late, and got a pot of rudbeckia for my own garden. 

I'm rather enjoying this new hobby of gardening, although I've got various failed pots out there. My poppies have just died off, and the antirhynus just never sprouted at all. On the flip side my sunflowers are coming along, and my various seed bomb and wildflower mix planters have got all sorts of pretty little flowers growing, so I'm rather proud of that. 

The joys of being nearly 50.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.07.22

Life Among the Teasels

 At work, the scrubby land that is bisected by the cycle path, fiefdom of rabbit and goldfinch, now also has its version of the Saguro Cactus of the Wild West - the teasel. 

Looking like a plant grown by Sauron in Mordor, these spiny plants are now in flower, with their almost Jupiter like bands of papery looking purple flowers, and to these the bumblebees swarm, along with the occasional and very flighty small skipper. 

When the wind blows, it makes photography a slightly hit and miss affair, and as you can see if you look, my camera does some slightly odd things to compensate, but here we go!

Wondering where all the burnet moths are this year...there's normally hundreds of them!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 15.07.22

Death by Tattooes

 SAturday's cricket match saw us "entertain" the lads from Lambley, a club well known for having a hellish ground with a wicket like a potato patch, and facilities consisting of a lavatory-shed apt to act as a sauna in hot weather and thus render any pre-prepared tea treats like sandwiches a veritable petri dish of salmonella and other stomach viruses.

Handy then that their recently added portaloo was apparently completely unusuable when the second team visited in the spring. 

No such fears at Kelham Road, and on a sweltering day we ended up fielding first to avoid the game lasting ten minutes and giving us the chance to score a couple of bonus points.

A team of reasonably muscley looking lads virtually all sporting beards and sleeve tattooes to rank them up there with any Ben Stokes or Jade Dernbach, they were entirely happy to get their chests out and umpire shirtless at square leg to improve their tans and "make a day of it" as one them told me. 

Certainly they batted with some considerable power against a bowling attack lacking several key members, and despite our skipper taking an absolute worldie of a one handed diving catch that shook the earth, and another fielder having a brilliant day in the deep including a charming act of sportsmanship admitting he'd touched the rope while making a catch - much applauded by the opposition - they racked up an intimidating 238-6 from 40 overs. 

Derek Acorah was not needed to tell us that this task would likely prove beyond u, and so it proved from the get go when we batted. Lambley's league leading opening bowlers, a fair bit above the normal standard for this division, blasted through our top order for virtually nothing at all, leaving me as the number 7 batsman no time at all to try and get some colour onto my own uncooked chicken coloured summer body. 

Indeed, I went out there at about 30 for 5 after my pre-decessor was castled first ball. Up against the rampant left handed bowler, I somehow managed to get two off the first ball, before sumptuously lofting him for 4 through mid-off from the second. 

This caused a lot of anger in the opponents, who yelled at each other not to let standards slip, although I must stress that they directed no chirp at our batters. They want to win the league, and they feel they need to play hard to do it, which is fair enough. 

This was demostrated when he nearly cleaned me up next ball, which resulted in me getting a hard stare from the bowler, to which I nodded my head and said "well bowled" in a style I hoped was reminiscent of Derek Randall. 

He didn't have to wait long to see me off, as he swung the ball out to have me nicking off. Pleased to report I walked without looking at the umpire. 

It took our last two bats to make us respectable, indeed they took us onto 90 all aout from 39-9. But it wasn't our greatest day's cricket, to be sure.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 

Cricketers not Doing their Usual Things

 After a lot of scrambling around, we were very grateful to Wellow Cricket Club for agreeing to get a game on with us today, albeit a rather short handed one.

Wellow is a charming village, famous locally and perhaps further afield for its maypole, and the cricket ground was in a wonderfully bucolic setting, on a big slope below a field full of very noisy sheep who were probably used to being used as target practice by big hitters during games, and knew what was coming next. 

No-body wanted to play a full format game with only 8 and 9 players a side in brain frazzling 31C heat, so we agreed to play an odd sort of 20 20 format game where some lads could bat twice if required. The serious nature of the match was underlined by the fact that a couple of the Wellow players had cracked open the beers before the game had event started. 

At least we were all wearing our whites. 

I kept up our proud record on Sunday of losing every toss, and so ended up bowling first on a day where no-one sane wanted to be fielding. Hence we agreed on restful drinks breaks every five overs. 

So, for these twenty overs we have three wicket keepers who all bowled, two seam bowlers bowling spin, and me, the captain, who didn't bowl at all. Our own regular second team player, who plays for WEllow as a sideline, was busy scoring a 50, and I hobbled about the field - everyone fielding on the boundary - barely able to move after playing on the Saturday, of which more anon. 

The third team captain, bowling filthy spin, got a wicket and our third team wicket keeper who has never bowled in a match before, took two. The first team captain got bored of bowling filthy spin, and decided to try and bounce out the Wellow opener with limited success. But drinks - and cigarettes - every five overs was very welcome. 

Upton rattled up 135 for 8 off their twenty overs, I think, and then it was time for us to bat, or rather it would have been if we weren't missing a quarter of our players who'd buggered off to Macdonalds. 

Because I hadn't bowled, one of our senior players insisted that I should open the batting, and having initially thought the idea was crazy, decided "Sod it, I hardly ever get to bat, I always have to bat last so can't get changed early, and I alwas have to go and umpire. I'll open"

Picking to open with me another player, and having told the Wellow skipper I was opening, taking strike and was also rubbish, he kindly put their gun fast bowler on to bowl at me, who I scrambed to block out for three balls before putting a tentative single through md-wickets.

My opening partner meanwhile, was getting stuck into hitting fours, something I joined him in a couple of overs later, belting a couple down the hill and into the long grass. I then lost my timing after that, and decided to just knock the ball around for ones and twos while my partner started hitting sixes, and rather bizarrely, a four off the back of his bat. 

We made it to one drinks break, then a second. Just as well, becuase batting and runnin up and down the wicket is bloody hard work on a day like this. 

I was just thinking I could go on and make a fifty, but off the last ball of the fast bowlers spell, he castled me with one that kept a little low. 

I'd ended up making 29, my hughest ever score. We won't talk about the nature of the game though.

Whoops, I just did. 

My opening partner meanwhile did get his 50, and retired in tiumph to watch the rest of the game, which we went on to win by eight wickets (or seven? or six?) after the first tteam opening bat went out there and blasted 45 off about 20 balls. 

It had been a fun game for everyone apart from the third team captain, who was slightly put out by not getting to bat, which actually from my point of view gave him more time to eat his Macdonalds and doughnuts. We celebrated by going to the pub next to the maypole, and talking about more cricket stuff.

As if we hadn't been all afternoon. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.07.22

Garden Update

 After a slow period, where nothing much seemed to be happening, we now seem to have had a bit of mini flowering of various bits and pieces.

The last couple of allium appear to be developing clusters of red flowers, not yet open. Flower heads area appearing in the poppy tub, there's a feeble blue showing from the very few cornflowers in the tin bucket that have survived.

The wildflower seeded tubs have got things going on, with pink and red spiny poppies, sweet allison and what appears to be honesty, with other plants appearing to be just about ready to bloom too.

The clematis type shrub on the back wall has gone mad, and lots of white flowers have emerged there, which the bees love, and it also provides cover for the sparrow families nesting round and about, including in a hole in a fire escape stair rod. 

Nasturtiums have sprouted in the mini greenhouse, as have the antirhynus. 

I did feel there was rather a lot of green however, so I caved in and bought some marigolds and geranium, which are brightening the place up and offering pollinators feeding opportunities; tiny bees like the french marigolds by the look of things. 

Most of it planted by me in the end though, a first time gardener.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 08.07.22

A Butterfly Kind of Day

 Late afternoon on Monday ended up being a pretty glorious kind of day, and with the buddleia now out in flower around the town, I thought it might be a nice sort of day to go out and look for butterflies. 

It's an odd sort of thing to do in many folk's eyes, but it gets me out of the house, gets me exercising and is of course a boon to my mental health. 

My greatest fear during lockdown was that we wouldn't be allowed out of our houses at all. 

As it happens, I didn't have to go very far to find my first butterfly, as right outside my door in my little yard, a male gatekeeper was feeding very placidly off the ragwort I have allowed to grow (read - can't be bothered to dig up) and is actually a more attractive source of pollen than the flowers I've tried to grow myself in various pots and planters. 

So, after managing to get a photo or two of this unusually co-operative gatekeeper, it was off for a walk to Cottage Lane Nature Reserve, taking in the various big buddleias I could remember on the way. Nothing on the one by Mill Lane Bridge, but the one down the side of the secure mental health unit was covered in butterflies.

There was even a rather tired looking brimstone feeding, and to catch one of those motionless is a real event, let alone get a photo of one. There was a really nice comma too, kindly showing off its, er, comma.

The cherry on the cake - mating ringlets in Cottage Lane reserve itself!

A very worthwhile walk indeed!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 05.07.22

Letting my Bat do the Talking

 Away trip today with the third team to take on Kirby Portland 3s, out in the wilds of Bassetlaw country near Kings Mill Reservoir.

We were playing at the evocatively named "Larwood Park", which despite harking back to great fast bowlers of days of yore, is actually a recently constructed rugby ground in the middle of a new build housing estate, onto which a rather erratic wicket has been rolled amidst the long, bumpy rugby grass.

It was a huge open and rather windy field, requiring an overnight stop en route from the dressing room to the pitch. We arrived only just in time, to be met by the always friendly Kirby captain directig us to changing room 3, which confusingly appeared to actually be a toilet until you went through a door at he back.

They do things differently out here. 

I was in the action quite quickly as our very young side - apart from me - took to the field to bowl first, with a catch being smacked my way in the first over, which I didn't see until very late and could only bump it off the heel of my hand. 

I think the captain was surprised I had even gone for it, to be honest. 

Kirby got off to a fast start against our young opening bowlers, but after racking up 50 in 10 overs, the underlying weird bounce of the wicket became more apparent for the tallers bowlers, and our captain and off spinner both bowled excellent spells as I watched mainly from the deep square boundary, exhanging chirpy chat with Kirby's captain and fielding the ball. We were taking wickets regularly, fielding well with th youngest player on the team taking a good catch.

I even bowled a couple of overs myself, with nothing either good or bad happening as I struggled to find a really full length bowling into the wind, before taken off for weather reasons to allow a bowler with a shorter run up to spped things up after we got caught in a sharp shower. Typically he then torpedoed two of the Kirby batters, I say batters as like us they were a mixed side. 

hey closed on 121-8 off their 32 overs, before everyone tucked into unhealthy supermarket bought food and massively sugary drinks.

We then had a nice family start to our batting, with a grandfather and grandson opening our batting, although the grandfather insisted I cut his brown Karrimor walking shoes from the family shot I took. He was also wearing my batting gloves, and using my bat. 

I was umpring, with the proviso that the grandfather, an extremely high quality bat and keeper back in the day, would take over from me later on. I was treated by an exhibition of extremely proper cricket, with textbook leaves, proper calling and straight bat shots. 

It was a slow start, but a solid one, although after ten or so overs the grandfather was starting to feel the pace and began to take a few more risks, especially after the grandson was bowled. In the process, he played some cracking big shots, making more runs with my bat in one innings than I have done all this year and last combined. Sadly, he hurt his knee taking a quick single and was run out for 29.

It was now over to our young wicket keeper, who batted with terrific maturity while losing a couple of partners to a slightly poor shot, and a terribly unlucky LBW I had to give off another torpedo bouncer.

Their then followed an excellent partnership with our captain, who put a big 6 over the flags at cow corner and some other good shots, while getting us back with the run rate. Me, I had umpired all this time, 29 overs or so, but with about 25 runs needed for victory, the skipper tunnelled out by another low bouncer, and I had to leave the field to get padded up. 

I wasn't needed to bat however, as despite their best efforts the slight lack of power and experience from our younger bats told against us and we ran out of time and lost by about 13  runs. Still, it had been a good day for our younger players, espeically the keeper who made a great 31 not out on that horrid pitch.

Always a good game with Kirby Portland 3s, and we enjoyed it despite the loss. 

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.07.22