Whilst snow wasn’t what I wanted in January, snowdrops would have been welcome in February, not least because I’d spent a lot of time reading up about them! Did you know that they were also known as Candlemas Bells? Candlemas was celebrated on 2^nd February, which in a roundabout way is also why German settlers in Pennsylvania also observe Groundhog Day on this date. The problem was that it had rained so much that they were under water on the day of the walk, so it was difficult to wax too lyrically about them!

I’d chosen the spring equinox as the date of the March walk, but whilst the ground had dried out a little, it was pouring down as the attendees started to gather at the Welcome Centre. The weather forecast was for rain all morning. One lady asked me if I could make it stop raining, to which I laughed and apologised that this was unfortunately beyond my abilities.

We were also paid a visit by a goldcrest bird. Anyone who has tried to photograph one will tell you how difficult it is with their constant flicking in and out of vegetation. This one, though, was the most confident I’d ever come across, perching out on a branch just a couple of feet away, for long enough for someone to paint it rather than just take a picture.

A constant feature on every walk I had done was the guelder-rose, which held on to its shiny red berries through January and February before budding into leaf and then flowering in May. It has showy, but infertile, white flowers around the outside of the flowerhead with much smaller, yet fertile, blooms in the centre. The theory is that insects get attracted by the large flowers but end up fertilising the centre, allowing the plant to save energy by not producing a full head of the showy flowers.

My favourite of the summer walks was the purple loosestrife, which gets its name from supposedly being laid on the yoke of ploughing oxen to prevent them pulling in different directions. I prefer to see it in a more modern context, as looking at its beautiful purple flower spikes makes the stresses of the day fade away. The same could be said for the common spotted orchids, which seemed to be far more prevalent on the reserve this year, as were the beautiful crimson flowers of the grass vetchling.

Then before it felt like it had begun, summer was over, autumn was upon us and once again the walks became more of a search exercise but were still very enjoyable.

November and December promise to be as challenging as January, but the catkins have already started to form on the hazel trees, and no one seems to mind when I include fungi as part of the walk.

In fact, I plan for the December walk to be all about the connections between wildlife, Christmas and seasonal traditions, so if you are free on December 13^th why not come to Brockholes to catch the final walk of the Wildflower Year?