Memories on top of a little bridge

Those who read my post on Mosses and Lichen, should not be surprised that I went on another hunt after Mosses. These photos I took at the bridge at the river alongside Riverside Cottage, and behind the Church of Ireland. I used to sit often on top of this little bridge, with Whitie, our dog beside me when we lived here with the river enclosing us on two sides. I would not be bothered by the cars which would pass me on their way to bring or collect their child to the little primary school.More often though, would I choose the quiet times, when I would observe the Grey Mullet swimming below me, and the King Fisher which would fly via the bridge to and fro its two favourite sites, its fishing spot behind our cottage, and where I would watch from one of the great big boulders in the river, and its home in the bank below the Church of Ireland. It has moved on now, and I haven't seen a flash of blue here since the 80s/early 90s, I think. We'd spotted the Otter baking in the Sun on top of a boulder in the river from the bridge, one day when Francis had gone out to put the rubbish out. He called me out quickly and it was an amazing sight, an animal whose body and expression embody the act of relaxing. Not that these creatures have an easy life, far from it. Having lived here now for 21 years in this village, this summer's sighting of an Otter in the bay, was only my 2nd sight of a Wild Otter.

There were several different patches of Moss on the stone of the bridge, and although it seems as if it was 3 separate species, it might just have been two. The
one in the last photo reminded me a little of Catherine's Moss (Atrichum undulatum) which was featured in the BBC Wildlife Magazine-page 12, this in the November issue. It is not the same one, far from it, I'd say, it was the little spiky stems with seed pods. I never even thought of opening one up, but I might do that tomorrow if the weaher is as good as the forecast with lessened winds.





Bryum capillare


Along the backroad along the valley and parallel to the hills between Dunmanus Bay and Bantry Bay, and connecting the hill just above the village (where I live now) and one where I usually go on a botany hunt, was the little road we used to take to Riverside, walking back after a few drinks in the village. A late friend, Manuel, a Portugese octgenarian, used to say he was going to walk home via the Alps, and I can still hear him say so whenever I think of, or travel on, the little road. These late flowering Wild Roses were watching over the valley:





These little 'white' blooms caught my eye this time, last year,telling me that I had to come back with the camera and take a few pictures, in an effort to find out what these are, but of course I never did. I almost passed them with the same, "I'll do these pictures in a few days time, when I stopped realising that it might take another year before I did so.