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Fallstreak holes

I was in Salisbury this morning for a dental appointment, and was very excited to notice the unusual skies: the high-altitude small cobbler-like clouds (I know they have a name but I don’t know it) had four or five oval ‘gashes’ in them, each of which was filled with a fluffier, whiter cloud. These are called fallstreak holes.

Not one of my fallstreak holes from this morning - this one was over Oklahoma City in the US in January 2010. It is very similar to what mine looked like though.

Not one of my fallstreak holes from this morning – this one was over Oklahoma City in the US in January 2010. It is very similar to what mine looked like though. Photo by Paul Franson.

Wikipedia explains their formation thus:

‘A fallstreak hole (also known as a hole punch cloud, punch hole cloud, skypunch, cloud canal or cloud hole) is a large gap, usually circular or elliptical, that can appear in cirrocumulus or altocumulus clouds. Such holes are formed when the water temperature in the clouds is below freezing but the water, in a supercooled state, has not frozen yet due to the lack of ice nucleation. When ice crystals do form, a domino effect is set off due to the Bergeron process, causing the water droplets around the crystals to evaporate: this leaves a large, often circular, hole in the cloud.

It is believed that the introduction of large numbers of tiny ice crystals into the cloud layer sets off this domino effect of evaporation which creates the hole. The ice crystals can be formed by passing aircraft which often have a large reduction in pressure behind the wing- or propeller-tips. This cools the air very quickly, and can produce a ribbon of ice crystals trailing in the aircraft’s wake. These ice crystals find themselves surrounded by droplets, grow quickly by the Bergeron process, causing the droplets to evaporate and creating a hole with brush-like streaks of ice crystals below it. Such clouds are not unique to any one geographic area and have been photographed from many places.’

But sadly not in Salisbury this morning by me, because I didn’t have my camera with me. Buggeration. At one point I could see five holes. When I came out of my dental appointment 45 minutes later they had gone, and in their place were fluffy cumulus clouds.

I love Strange Weather Days. I still remember the excitement when Chap and I saw our first (and still only) ever mammatus clouds, in New Zealand in 2008. Well, we have to get our jollies somehow, don’t we?

Rings that remind me of things: Part 11

Part 11 of an occasional series about rings in my Etsy shop that remind me of things.

Ring:

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Vintage enamel and sterling silver ring by Joid’art of Barcelona, Spain. For sale in my Etsy shop: click on photo for details.

Thing:

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Lichen Xanthoria parietina. Photo by James Lindsey at Ecology of Commanster.

UPDATE: The ring is now sold. Sorry!

So far I have had rings that remind me of an Iron Age hillfort, an alien spaceship, a cream horn, a radio telescope, Noah’s Ark, an octopus tentacle, spider eyes, Pluto and its moon Charonthe rings of Saturn, and The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh.

Blackbirds in pop music

Blackbirds (Turdus merula) are one of my favourite birds. So any time they are celebrated, I’m happy. Here’s a brief look at three very different groups of musicians from the UK who have been inspired by one of our loveliest native songbirds.

A male blackbird, Turdus merula. Photo by Sannse. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Turdus_merula#/media/File:Kos_Turdus_merulaRB.jpg

A male blackbird, Turdus merula. Photo by Sannse.

In early May this year Radiohead released ‘Burn the Witch‘, the much-anticipated first single off their first album in five years, A Moon Shaped Pool. The song was teased by the band with a short, enigmatic snippet of footage, of a stop-motion bird singing to the sound of a blackbird’s song.

A post shared by Radiohead (@radiohead) on

When ‘Burn the Witch’ was released, we could hear that the blackbird’s song was the introduction and the coda to the song, and that the lyrics  ‘Sing a song on the jukebox that goes / Burn the witch’ and ‘Sing the song of sixpence that goes / Burn the witch’ referenced the traditional British children’s rhyme, ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence‘, a rhyme that refers to four and twenty blackbirds being baked in a pie, and later to a blackbird pecking off a maid’s nose. Jolly stuff, these traditional rhymes, but aptly fitting with the grim subject matter of Radiohead’s song.

Just the other day I discovered that what I had long-thought to be an image of a range of evening sunlit limestone peaks reflected in still waters of the Thai coast on the cover of Kate Bush‘s double album Aerial is in fact a waveform of a blackbird’s song. (Observation was never my strong point).

The cover of Aerial by Kate bush, featuring the waveform of a blackbird's song.

The cover of Aerial by Kate bush, featuring the waveform of a blackbird’s song.

And birdsong, predominantly blackbird song, is featured throughout the album. ‘Prelude’, the first track of A Sky of Honey, the second disc of the album, starts with a male blackbird singing, followed by a wood pigeon‘s call which Bush then mimics; the track ‘Sunset’ refers to blackbirds singing at dusk, and features the song of a blackbird at the very end of the track and merging into the next track, ‘Aerial Tal’, where Bush mimics the call of one in the style of an Indian taal; and the final track, ‘Aerial’ features more blackbird song (and a blackbird alarm call) while Bush laughs.

And of course the most famous use of a blackbird’s song in modern music is in ‘Blackbird‘ by the Beatles: in the latter part of the song a male blackbird can be heard singing.

Here they are, without accompaniment. In all cases, this is the spring song of the blackbird. They do sing later on in the year, but the spring song is the best.

Just magical.

So long, Rosetta

So, the long journey is over. The Europeans Space Agency’s probe Rosetta was purposely crashed into the surface of (deep breath) Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko just a few minutes ago, landing just 40 m away from its intended target. It now joins the doughty, though ill-fated lander module Philae on the surface of the comet.

Rosetta’s OSIRIS wide-angle camera captured this image at 11:49 GMT yesterday (29 September 2016) when Rosetta was 22.9 km from Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. Photograph: Credits: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Rosetta’s OSIRIS wide-angle camera captured this image on 29 September 2016 at 11:49 GMT yesterday when Rosetta was 22.9 km from Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. Photograph: Credits: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Rosetta sent many fantastic images back to us here on earth, and the close-up details of the comet’s surface on her descent are amazing.

Single frame enhanced NavCam image taken on 29 September 2016 at 22:53 GMT, when Rosetta was 20 km from the centre of the nucleus of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. The scale at the surface is about 1.7 m/pixel and the image measures about 1.7 km across. ESA/Rosetta/NAVCAM – CC BY-SA IGO 3.0

Single frame enhanced NavCam image taken on 29 September 2016 at 22:53 GMT, when Rosetta was 20 km from the centre of the nucleus of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. The scale at the surface is about 1.7 m/pixel and the image measures about 1.7 km across. ESA/Rosetta/NAVCAM – CC BY-SA IGO 3.0

Rosetta’s OSIRIS narrow-angle camera captured this image of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko at 01:20 GMT from an altitude of about 16 km above the surface during the spacecraft’s final descent on 30 September.   The image scale is about 30 cm/pixel and the image measures about 614 m across.   Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Rosetta’s OSIRIS narrow-angle camera captured this image of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko on 30 September at 01:20 GMT from an altitude of about 16 km above the surface during the spacecraft’s final descent . The image scale is about 30 cm/pixel and the image measures about 614 m across. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta's OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016, 11.7 km from the surface. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta’s OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016 at 05:25 GMT, 11.7 km from the surface. The image scale is about 22 cm/pixel and the image measures about 450 m across. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta's OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016, 8.9 km from the surface. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta’s OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016 at 06:53 GMT, 8.9 km from the surface. The image scale is about 17 cm/pixel and the image measures about 350 m across. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta's OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016, 5.8 km from the surface. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta’s OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016 at 08:18 GMT, 5.8 km from the surface. The image scale is about 11 cm/pixel and the image measures about 225 m across. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

8.21 GMT 30 Septe,ber 2016.

Comet 67P/C-G viewed with Rosetta’s OSIRIS NAC on 30 September 2016 at 8.21 GMT, 5.7 km from the surface. The image scale is about 11 cm/pixel and the image measures about 225 m across. Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Modern art, or Rosetta scans?

Modern art, or Rosetta scans of its landing site? Credit: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

The view 1.2 km from the surface.

OSIRIS narrow-angle camera shot of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko captured from an altitude of about 1.2 km on 30 September at 10:14 GMT. The image scale is about 2.3 cm/pixel and the image measures about 33 m across.

The crash will have damaged mechanisms on Rosetta and as sunlight will be fading as the comet moves away from the sun, even if the solar panels and other equipment had survived the crash, the panels would not have been able to generate enough power to send any more data back. The scientists took readings all the way down on the descent, and decided not to fire thrusters to slow the descent for fear of the exhaust gases contaminating the readings taken on the way down.

Rosetta was due to touch down / crash at 11.38 BST (GMT +1), but because of the distance of the comet from the earth, confirmation took just over 40 minutes to get here, reaching us at 12.19 BST.

A fabulous end to an amazing mission. Space science at its best, indeed.

European Space Agency (ESA) Rosetta blog.

Wollemi pine

Stories of scientific discoveries always pique my interest, especially when they are the discovery of a species or genus like the coelacanth, thought long-extinct. The Wollemi pine (Wollemia nobilis) is one such discovery. This wonderful tree has only been known to science as a living specimen for 22 years: it was discovered in Australia in 1994 by a field officer with the National Parks and Wildlife Service (New South Wales), David Noble, in an isolated steep-sided gorge in the Blue Mountains. He was familiar enough with the flora of the area to realise that the tree in front of him was unlike any he had seen before. Scientists soon established it was a member of the family Araucariaceae, the same family as the monkey puzzle tree (Araucaria araucana), and had previously been known only from fossil specimens. The new species was named after its discoverer.

Wollemi pines in their native habitat. © J.Plaza RBG Sydney.

Wollemi pines in their native habitat. © J.Plaza RBG Sydney.

King Billy, the world's largest Wollemi pine. © J.Plaza RBG Sydney.

King Billy, the world’s largest Wollemi pine. © J.Plaza RBG Sydney.

Fewer than 100 trees exist in the wild, and the population was clearly very endangered, and so a programme to increase specimen numbers was quickly put in place. Seeds were collected (via a brave volunteer dangling below a helicopter), and cuttings were taken. To try to protect the species, cuttings were distributed to botanic gardens around the world. A nursery in Cornwall was licensed to propagate the cuttings in the UK – Kernock Park Plants. We were very kindly given a plant by Dick Harnett, the proprietor of the nursery.

Our Wollemi pine, Dick, just after we got it in August 2009.

Our Wollemi pine newly potted up into a bigger pot, August 2009.

May 2010.

May 2010, with the growing bud at the top shedding its waxy protection.

Close up of the waxy cap that protects the growing bud over winter; the newly sprouting leaves are pushing it off. May 2010.

Close up of the waxy cap that protects the growing bud over winter; the newly sprouting leaves are pushing it off. May 2010.

Just a month later, June 2010. It grows fast!

Just a month later, June 2010. It grows very quickly!

The year's new growth is a much paler green.

The year’s new growth is a much paler green. June 2010.

Dick told us that the trees can grow quite happily in pots, but after a year or so the tree was putting on so much growth and I couldn’t bring myself to prune it to keep it in a suitable size for the pot. So I contacted Dr Wolfgang Bopp, the curator of the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens and Arboretum near Romsey in Hampshire, to see if the Arboretum would be interested in the donation of the tree. They already had two specimens, but given the rarity of the plant he was happy to accept it.

March 2011. At its new home in the Harold Hillier Gardens and Arboretum, near Romsey in Hampshire.

March 2011. Specimen 2010.0344 A at its new home in the Harold Hillier Gardens and Arboretum, near Romsey in Hampshire.

September 2016. Doing well!

September 2016. Doing well!

Another view, September 2016.

Another view, September 2016.

We went to visit the Gardens and ‘our’ Wollemi pine over the weekend, and it is doing really well.

Bringing our wildlife pond back to life

One of the first things we will do when / if we make another garden is put a wildlife pond in. Until we had our pond, we hadn’t realised how much it brings to a garden: not only do you get movement and light with the reflection of the skies (and cloudscapes), but it brings in a whole host of wildlife. Hedgehogs drink from it, birds bathe in it, frogs and newts breed in it, dragonflies and damselflies flit over it, lay their eggs and leave them to grow into the most Geiger-esque larvae (also called a nymph, though anything less nymph-like it’s hard to imagine). We used to spend hours pond watching.

Our pond 10 years ago, 1 June 2006.

Our pond ten years ago, 1 June 2006.

Gradually, over the years, the pond silted up. We weren’t the best at maintaining it, and an umbrella plant (Darmera peltata) I had put in the bog area to serve as a mini-gunnera gradually took over, shading the water. For the last three or four years we have had frogspawn but never tadpoles: something wasn’t working right in the pond. This summer it sprung a leak deep down and most of the water drained out.

Over the weekend at the beginning of the month we decided to take action. On the Saturday we undertook the VERY smelly job of emptying the last of the sludge out of the pond. We chucked it on to the surrounding flowerbeds to act as an organic mulch (and already as I write, the geraniums are forcing their way up through it). That we disturbed just one frog (Rana temporaria) and one immature common newt (Lissotriton vulgaris) was a sign of how poor a habitat it had become.

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I’m glad this blog doesn’t have smell-o-vision. The silt was very, very stinky.

Then we covered the old liner with some very thick dust sheets in case something had come through the old one to make it leak, and put a new liner over it. The pond took several hours to fill.

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Partially full, several hours later …

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As the pond was filling we were buzzed by a dragonfly – a female southern hawker (Aeshna cyanea). I don’t know how it detected the water, but it was straight on the case!

On the Sunday we edged part of the pond with stones and made a pebble beach, added three bags of pond soil, and replanted / threw in the few pond plants we’d salvaged from the previous incarnation, such as water forget-me-nots (Myosotis scorpioides) and Lesser spearwort (Ranunculus flammula), plus the ever-present duckweed.img_7092

Sludgey silt in the foreground.

Sludgey silt in the foreground. Plank to aid any beasties that might fall in.

Then we left it for a week, as work intervened. During that time the soil settled and the water cleared, frogs found the pond, and we saw our first greater water boatman (Notonectidae or Pleidae) and our first whirligig beetle (Gyrinidae), plus southern hawkers laying eggs on the few plants. Sadly the mosquitoes have also found the pond … Yesterday I bought some more plants, and as autumn is coming, the pond is complete for now.

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Turves laid to cover the liner.

Turves laid to cover the liner and create another easy access area for critters.

New plants added: Brooklime (Veronica beccabunga), bogbean (Menyanthes trifoliata) and Iris louisiana 'Her Highness'.

New plants added: brooklime (Veronica beccabunga), bogbean (Menyanthes trifoliata) and Iris louisiana ‘Her Highness’. I try to stick to British natives but couldn’t resist the iris.

It’s getting towards the end of the growing season so nothing will really happen until next spring – hopefully then we’ll have frogspawn that actually turns into tadpoles!

Update Sunday 18 September; We had a day out at the Harold Hillier Gardens and Arboretum near Romsey in Hampshire, and on the way back stopped at a specialist aquatic garden centre. Couldn’t resist the frogbit (Hydrocharis morsus-ranae), a yellow water lily (Nuphar lutea), and a water hawthorn / water hyacinth (Aponogeton distachyos: okay, I know this last one’s not a British native, but it’s so pretty …). The garden centre sold great ramshorn snails (Planorbarius corneus) at five for £2.50, but I was too mean to fork that out for them. So I was happy to see there were some snail eggs on one of the leaves of the Nuphar lutea plant we bought …

Mr Frog happily ensconced in the rejuvenated pond.

Mr Frog happily ensconced in the rejuvenated pond.

Saturday stroll: Mount Edgcumbe and Kingsand / Cawsand

A few weeks ago when we were staying with my sister in Devon, we decided to go for a walk through the Mount Edgcumbe Estate in Cornwall to the twin villages of Kingsand and Cawsand, and back.

Our walk route is the white line: we headed south along the coast and then northwards on the way back.

Our ferry/walk route is the white line: we headed south along the coast to Kingsand / Cawsand and then northwards on the way back to Cremyll.

We left late morning, catching the Cremyll Foot Ferry across the Hamoaze (the estuary of the River Tamar) from the delightfully named Admirals Hard in Stonehouse, Plymouth in Devon to the tiny village of Cremyll on the beautiful Rame Peninsula in Cornwall. The main entrance to Mount Edgcumbe House is in Cremyll, and our walk took us through large parts of the estate of this impressive country house.

Heading south we followed the coast, stopping frequently to admire the view and drink the pre-mixed chilled Pimms that my sister had cleverly brought. The twin villages of Kingsand and Cawsand are very pretty, with tiny narrow lanes barely wide enough to take a car. It’s hard to tell where the one village stops and the other starts: they merge into each other. We had a couple of drinks in one of the pubs and then sat on the beach to eat our lunch and collect sea glass and take in the view.

The weather was mild and with a strong sea mist blowing in as the day went on. The foot ferry journey at either end of the walk was an extra treat, giving as it does beautiful views of the Regency period naval buildings on the dock fronts.

I’ll let the pictures do the talking. Click on all to embiggen / bigify.

Setting out in some seriously comfy shoes.

Setting out in some seriously comfy shoes.

The beautifully kept gardens at Mount Edgcumbe House.

The beautifully kept gardens at Mount Edgcumbe House.

A folly in the estate being conserved / renovated.

A temple folly in the estate being conserved / renovated.

We watched the ferry come in as we drank our first Pimms of the day. The breakwater has a lighthouse on the end of it.

We watched a ferry come in as we drank our first Pimms of the day. The breakwater has a lighthouse on the end of it.

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First sight of Kingsand / Cawsand.

First sight of Kingsand / Cawsand.

A beautiful fuchsia hedge.

A beautiful fuchsia hedge.

Getting closer.

Getting closer.

Pimms o'clock. Second of the walk. Lushes, us?

A Pimms with a view. Second of the walk. Lushes, us?

Looking back towards Plymouth. Fort Picklecombe is in the middle distance, now converted into apartments.

Looking back towards Devon. Fort Picklecombe is in the middle distance, by the rocky shore, and is now converted into apartments.

The beach at Cawsand.

The beach at Cawsand.

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Looking across to Kingsand.

Looking across to Kingsand.

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Beautiful footpath walk out of Kingsand.

Beautiful footpath walk out of Kingsand.

Looking back at Kingsand / Cawsand with the sea mist rolling in.

Looking back at Kingsand / Cawsand with the sea mist rolling in.

Love this. Like an impressionist painting.

Love this. Like an impressionist painting.

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A War Department marker from the Second World War sea defences.

A War Department marker from the Second World War sea defences.

The WW2 military installation above the marker.

The WW2 military installation above the marker.

Big skies.

Big skies.

My sister doing her best Maximus Decimus Meridius impression in the barley field.

My sister doing her best Maximus Decimus Meridius impression in the barley field.

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Looking up the Hamoaze to where Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s Royal Albert Bridge crosses the Tamar. If you click and then click again you can just make out the double arch of its lenticular iron spans.

More big skies.

More big skies.

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Looking across to Torpoint on the Cornwall side of the Hamoaze.

Beautiful house and quay at Empacombe

Beautiful house and old stone tidal quay at Empacombe.

The Edgcumbe Belle, our ferry. Drake's Island is to the right.

The Edgcumbe Belle, our ferry at the pier at Cremyll. Drake’s Island is to the right.

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The Royal William Victualling Yard, Stonehouse, Plymouth. These impressive buildings were built between 1826-1835.

Parts of a favourite film of mine, Mr Turner, were filmed in Kingsand, with the village standing in for the Kentish seaside town of Margate.

Rings that remind me of things, Part 10

Part 10 of an occasional series about rings in my Etsy shop that remind me of things.

Ring:

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Vintage foiled raked glass ring with a lovely swirly pattern. For sale in my Etsy shop: click on photo for details. (NOW SOLD).

Thing:

The Starry Night, Vincent Van Gogh, June 1889. Museum of Modern Art, New York.

The Starry Night, Vincent Van Gogh, June 1889. Museum of Modern Art, New York.

UPDATE: The ring has now sold. Sorry!

So far I have had rings that remind me of an Iron Age hillfort, an alien spaceship, a cream horn, a radio telescope, Noah’s Ark, an octopus tentacle, spider eyes, Pluto and its moon Charon, and the rings of Saturn.

Rings that remind me of things: Part 9

Part 9 of an occasional series about rings in my Etsy shop that remind me of things.

Ring:

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Banded agate ring. For sale in my Etsy shop: click on photo for details.

Thing:

Saturn's rings, photographed by the Cassini orbiter. Photo by NASA, cropped and flipped 180 degrees by me to match my ring.

Saturn’s rings, photographed by the Cassini Orbiter. Photo by NASA, cropped and flipped 180 degrees by me to match my ring. Click on photo for details.

So far I have had rings that remind me of an Iron Age hillfort, an alien spaceship, a cream horn, a radio telescope, Noah’s Ark, an octopus tentacle, spider eyes, and Pluto and its moon Charon.

UPDATE: The ring is now sold. Sorry!