Out and about around Oxford's urban archipelago
Night falls at Osney weir. A sheet of ice-cold oil-black water, still and silent as a mirror glides over Osney Hydro's unmoving Archimedes screw. No electric sparks fly. But once the blue flash of Kingfishers ruled these waters, till pile drivers and concrete deposed them. An ugly vanity project.
Cutting through Oatlands Road Recreation Park to save time today. Two long trenches, caged in, scar the recreation field (pictured). An archaeological dig, It's difficult to imagine this unassuming field surrendering anything of interest or worth. But Oatlands runs along Ferry Hinksey Road. This mundane road was in times past a main thoroughfare into - …
Light rain and a stroll to North Hinksey along Willow Walk and across the stone bridge which fords North Hinksey stream. The banks of the stream today are a celebration in pink, courtesy of Impatiens glandulifera, a Himalayan native introduced here in 1839. The flower thrives along riverbanks; the explosive dehiscence of the seed pod …
A sunny day and a parade of narrowboats hug the East Street riverbank bow-to-stern from The Punter (Osney's only surviving pub) to Osney Bridge, the lowest bridge along the Thames, a gatekeeper to the noisy cruisers which populate the waters further up, and further down the river.
Osney power station perches at the edge of the Isis across from East street on Osney Island, thanks to Henry VIII. Osney Abbey, one of the great Augustinian Canon Register houses of medieval England, occupied the site half a millennium ago, until it was reduced to rubble. But it wasn't the corpulent king's wanton dissolution of …
One morning each autumn, on the East Street towpath, a Christmas wreath-like fairy ring springs up next to one of the old wooden pilings. English folklore: cavorting fairies; German tradition: witches; the Danes: devils. The true provenance, though, is stranger still. Neither plant nor animal, fairy rings begin in a tight cluster, ground-level fruit of …
Wildlife inhabits the woods, scrub, sward, brush, and hedgerow of Grandpont nature park, four footbridges from Osney. Approaching a Grandpont meadow this evening, the grass appears dotted with wholemeal cobs. Closing in, they spring to life; a flash of white tail and they dart back down the rabbit hole. The younger, braver bucks and does …
Heat shimmers off the unmoving Isis. Beneath the surface, abundant perch and trout and crayfish outdistance the hungry anglers stalking along the towpath further down the river below Osney Lock. Fruit, flowers, flies, 'n' fishes, all are ripe in today's bleach-white sun. Branches are heavy and harvest-ready. Winter must be just round the corner.
This is the post excerpt.
A Field Guide to Osney Island 