A Mast Year

For months the oak trees have been growing heavy with a mass of acorns. Now those are becoming ripe and falling to the ground.  Jays and squirrels are ecstatic at the bounty. 

Sweet chestnuts are also well-laden this year.  The hazels are bearing plenty of nuts too although the squirrels always pillage them before I get there.  Dog roses and hawthorns are embellishing the hedgerows with hips and haws like blood-red beads.

A year when woodland nuts and fruits are especially plentiful is called a mast year.  It is the trees’ opportunity to reproduce – there are so many seeds that the animals and birds cannot possibly eat them all.

Folklore says that if seeds and berries are abundant in Autumn, it will be a harsh winter ahead -  God’s way of providing for the birds and animals.  However, weather patterns show little correlation between abundant Autumns and cold winters.  It’s more likely that the favourable conditions of the preceding summer are the cause.

But what always grips me is the exquisite details of these Autumn seeds – the burnished acorn fitting exactly into its cup. The beech pods like tiny jewel boxes lined with gold velvet to hold the precious, three-sided seeds. And the horse chestnut pod, armoured with spikes like a Mediaeval weapon – all to keep the polished mahogany conker safe inside.

Whether the folklore is right or not, Autumn certainly looks like the work of a Master Craftsman.