Blackensford Brook mindfulness

On our walk this morning we took the opportunity to chill awhile aside a quiet stretch of Blackensford Brook. I'd only intended a brief rest stop, some breathing, a quick chant, and a treat or two for Geoff; although the spot held us for longer. After the afore mentioned I adopted a malasana (squat) pose on the gravel close the babbling stream, closed my eyes and began to slow and deepen my breath; I found myself tuning into the sound of the water as it passed over nearby stones, then I became aware of the myriad sounds of water navigating myriad obstacles all around me, and one by one I focused on those sounds adding each unique sound to what was becoming a watery aural tapestry; eventually I found myself in a place of effortless and blissful mindfulness. Of course, after a few minutes, and all too quickly, my mind interrupted, and my meditation was over, still lovely whilst it lasted. I can't recall my awareness of a moment being so focused and complete. 

Sun reborn

Oh yeah! The new Sun is born, the new cycle begins and with it the slow march towards longer days. And what a corker of a sunrise it was; well worth enduring the blisteringly cold wind that raked Barton Cliffs. Elbow's lyric 'One day like this a year would see me right' rolled around my head as I took in the majestic beauty of this morning's sunrise; just stunning! Flags, flax, fodder and frigg to y'all for the coming cycle. /|\

Winter Solstice

Solstice Blessing y'all.

When the wheel turns and we come to one of the eightfold festivals I miss my friends in druid/pagan community. Solo rituals are well and good, and don't misunderstand me, I feel the connection and give/get what I need, though they don't compare with the warmth and feeling of connection you get standing in a circle with familiar faces, or unfamiliar faces for that matter, there's something special about a group ritual; there's nothing like it. 

Samhain extended

 

I remember garnering from the writings of Ross Nicholls that once Samhain, which we now celebrate on just one day, covered the period from October 31st through to the Winter Solstice on the 21st of December. This year as Samhain approached I'd been mulling that idea over, considering it's applications, and when I heard Phillip Carr-Gomm mention that Samhain had once been more of a season, I took it as a sign. I'd been riffing on the idea of extending the themes of Samhain, of endings and of letting things go, of cleaning out and preparing for the beginning of a new cycle; and as we approach the Winter Solstice that period is coming to a close. How did it go? Well, I think. There was the practical cleaning out; finding jars of dried mushrooms, nuts and herbs dated 2013/2014 at the back of a cupboard (I wont be eating them); then with the end of the growing year in the garden there was, pruning shrubs and trees, clearing beds to be done; and beyond that generally tidying my home was positive. Those were the simple bits. Harder the mental clearing; spending time considering and discarding the negative intellectual habits, reductive attitudes, beliefs and ideas I'd adopted over time, which I'm going to attribute mainly to the influence of the intellectually stifling/regressive and divisive echo chambers/silos of social media (it's a shame that social media never lived up to what it could've been).  Finally, I spend a great deal of time meditating on the mental baggage I needed to let go of for my emotional well-being; it's been a tumultuous and unsettling few years and the acquired baggage continues to drag me down like Marley's chains. The latter was the difficult one, especially with many of the contributing factors unresolved. Still, overall the exercise felt beneficial; it's certainly one I'll develop next year. 

Another misty morning

Out in the forest this morning it was the mistiest of mornings; the stands of Bratley enclosure were shrouded and near silent. I love the forest when it's like this, the landscape of fairy tales, a landscape in which you might spy mythagos. Magical. Out on the exposed plains the mists were even thicker, with visibility greatly reduced to the point where I found myself off course on a route I've undertaken many many times. The lyrics of Goldfrapp's Utopia came to mind 'It's a strange day, no colours or shapes, no sound in my head, I forget who I am'. Not wishing to overly big myself up, but unintentionally going off course is rare for me; intentionally going off course, well, that's another matter. Today's divergence was a good lesson, a reminder that I'm not infallible.

Thwarted by procrastination

Ah, once again thwarted by my mastery of procrastination, how damn predictable; I was quite happy with my design too. Three days to go and this years Winter Solstice card hasn't even made it the inking stage. When finished the moon and sun would have been behind the Awen, and the whole drawing rendered in either pen or pencil, or a combo of both. Still, on a positive note; I'm well ahead of schedule on my 2022 Winter Solstice card, so, huzzah!

Yule wreath

 This years front door Yule adornment.

Repairs

I spend 20 minutes or so on this morning's walk undertaking some remedial repairs to Burley Old's 'Hermitage'. I'd noticed over walks of late that it had become more of a sieve than a shelter and thought I'd do something about that. Recent winds ensured that there was plenty of canopy detritus of all sizes littering the woodland floor, plenty of leaf litter too. I was pleased with my efforts, by the time I'd finished many of the gaps and holes were filled, returning the shelter to darkness; one thing I noticed though during my maintenance was that in the near future more substantial structural work would be required if the hermitage was to endure. I have to say, even at my age, I really enjoyed 'playing' in the woods and was totally absorbed by the activity, the weights on my mind temporarily fading into the background. And you wouldn't believe it, but in that twenty minutes or so, in that small area, I walked just over a mile!    

 

Holly wranglers

A sight you'll see annually in the forest, and one that's probably as old as Yule celebrations themselves; folk collecting holly. The holly will be crafted in to wreaths which will be subsequently taken to markets and sold. The guys told me it was the last day of collection and that it had been a very good year; I suppose it depends on where you look, yeah, in some areas I've seen trees covered in bight red berries, whilst in others I've struggled to find more than a couple of berries...I walked all through Red Rise the other day and saw 4 berries, total. Some folklore suggests that an abundance of berries foretells of a harsh winter, a sign that the Goddess is ensuring food for the woodland/hedgerow birds; in which case, I don't know what to make of the patchy nature of berries this year...maybe a sign that our climate f*ckery has left mother nature uncertain of how to proceed.

Preserved in aspic

 

There are two faces to landscape conservation: the restoration of natural environments and the maintenance of historic environments. The re-channelling of sections of the forest streams to their pre Victorian courses are an example of the former; and I'd suggest the removal of conifers from the fringes of the Knowles is the latter. I've often said that to a great degree the New Forest is far from a natural environment, the creation of layers of human activity spanning millennia; left to it's own devices the forest would be a very different place. These pines have probably been removed as part of the ongoing 'Conifer removal on Ancient Woodland sites' plan. Without continuous management the growth of pine, birch and carr species would swallow the managed woodland mosaic hundreds of years in the making via human interventions; in reality the forest is a smorgasbord of historic landscapes/environments we desperately try to hold in aspic.

Reluctant to leave

Oaks; always late to the party, and always the last to leave.

 

After the storm

All through Great Huntley Bank and Camel Green signs of storm Barra were apparent; branches and boughs litter the woodland floor, the canopy is all but empty beyond the usual culprits and I lost count of the trees I saw slighted. I see the aspect of the forest changing in light of the increased winds and weird weather we've experience over recent years, and I can't help but wonder/worry what the forest will look like as climate change continues to bed in. I'm assuming there that the changes are man made or that nature fluctuations are being amplified and exaggerated by human behaviours; behaviours I genuinely don't see changing in the foreseeable future...no matter what the comforting green-washed narratives suggest. I feel these changes viscerally. Still, the forest was lovely today as was our walk; and as with so much in life, you've got to take solace where you can.

Studland sunrise

Bastard weather wizards! It'll be sunny they predicted, then, it'll be sunny with a scattering of clouds, and throughout they claimed less than 5% chance of rain. So after our recent visit to Studland I resolved to return this morning to catch the sunrise and take a walk; what with it going to be such a good day. I mumbled curses as just before dawn, having risen ridiculously early to get here, we wandered up the coast towards the wall of grey cloud which hugged the horizon, through cold raking winds and mizzle...bastard weather wizards! To be fair, it must be increasingly hard to accurately predict weather as our climate deteriorates, and, they did suggest cloud and rain, even if it was only 5%, and, if I was honest I protested too much as I didn't really care, just being here was good enough. That said, the morning predicted would've been preferable. Anyway. The beach was ours, not another soul in sight as we made our way along the shore. Then, as is often the way, nature rewards your endeavours and the sun rose through a break in the clouds, bathing the beach in the most wonderful light. As Geoff explored, I stood and marvelled at nature's glory, lost in the moment I was taken by a mild euphoria at the beauty of everything; my photos really don't do the light justice. Facing the sun I took three breathes and chanted the Awen; I love that fleeting heightened clarity you experience after chanting. The moment was perfect.  I declared that if this was the best the day could offer and the rest of the day returned to grey, I'd gratefully take that. The sun shone it's golden light for 10 minutes or so before again disappearing beyond the grey veil which by now was obscuring virtually any hint of blue; and it was indeed the best, sunniest, moment the day offered...and I continued to be grateful for it. We did 13.8 miles today too; Shell Bay, Studland Beach, inland at North Beach, across Godlingston Heath to Rempstone, up onto Nine Barrow Down, before descending again to retrace our route back to Shell Bay. On the way back I thought a guy approaching me along the beach was wearing a pink tracksuit or similar, until he got closer and I realised he was a cooked lobster coloured naturist; that's dedication to your path, man. Great day.

Regeneration

Nature's resilience is an unceasing wonder to me; take the view above, a few years back this area of Chewton Common was all scorched earth and charred trunks after 'another' common fire, yet look at it now, you'd never know; the regeneration is a marvel.

Studland

I'd been wanting to visit Studland for awhile; I knew it had been a while since we'd roamed these ways, though hadn't realised our last walk here was back in early March 2020. The long sweeping bay with it's broad sandy beach and Couch/Lyme/Marram grass colonized dunes were as beautiful and wind swept as I remembered them; as behind the dunes were the willow and phragmites fringed ponds and lakes of brackish water which pock the peninsular creating rare niche habitats. I've mentioned before, Purbeck, including Studland, appear miraculous in their apparent wild timelessness when their immediate vicinity to BCP, which must be the biggest urban sprawl and the south coast is considered.  A wonderful place. Studland that is, BCP not so much.

Illustrated tree

 

It was good to find the illustrated tree on the edge of Pinnick Wood at Marrowbones Hill still doing well, in fact he looked better that my previous visit a couple of years back.  Ancient and weathered he's really quite the wonder, and quite the spectacle to behold.

Moody morning

A moody scene on Barton undercliff this morning.

 

Barton view

A clear blue sky reflected in a millpond sea; what a beautiful day for a walk on the beach.  A view of isle of the Wight and the Needles from Barton undercliff this morning.

First frost

 The first proper frost of the the season; all hail Jack's return!

Burley Old Fall

Burley Old is my most visited roam, and one of my most beloved; I regularly use it as a litmus test for the wider forest.  Stood amongst it's stands I can see that 'fall' is approaching fast in the forest; soon the remaining canopy, which dwindles daily, will be empty, the boughs naked until the buds burst forth with new life in spring. A rest well deserved; it's been another difficult year out here, failed wild harvests, boughs and trunks slighted by storms and everything feeling off kilter. Still, I have to believe (difficult as that's becoming) that better times will come and the forest community will endure. In the meantime, each season brings it's own unique beauty to the forest and I look forward to and relish them all...Winter nears.

Hail the Holly

One tree that's certainly doing well this year is the Holly (Ilex aquifolium), many are brimming with bight red berries, clearly visible across the landscape as beacons of colour in a fading forest. In a year that's seen failed, or at least feeble, wild harvests, the Holly's berries will be an invaluable source of food for the forest's birds and smaller mammals; whilst it's tenderer leaves are always sought by the deer and pony communities through the lean months. All hail the Holly King.

Bratley Water

 

Up on Ocknell Plain, just beyond the end of the old Stoney Cross airfield, multiple small rivulets flow into Slufters Bottom and Bratley Water is born; eventually Bratley, after a couple of name changes will merge with Highland water to become the Lymington River emptying into the Solent.  A few years back much of Slufters enclosure's conifers were harvested exposing the pre-existing deciduous core through which Bratley Water runs, and returning most of the surrounding landscape to open heath. At that time Bratley Water itself was restored to a more pleasing natural meander, and it's a real transformation...a positive one. Slufters conifers choked the infant stream and it's deciduous environs, as well as obscuring long views across the forest from all directions. I'm still taken by the restored vistas when in this part of the forest, and am enjoying the slow re-naturalizing of Slufters Bottom. 

Woodford Bottom

 

Woodford Bottom

Autumn's peaked

Autumn's peaked. The autumn tints occupy a brief window, these colours wont last long now, some are already going over. Soon the fall will take them all.

Cary Grace @ The Assembly Rooms Glastonbury 28.12.2019

After writing an earlier post on gigs, I realised I hadn't finished, let alone posted my intended post on Cary's Assembly room gig back in 2019. So, still not at all finished (too much time elapsed), though tidied up enough to give an impression, here it is.

Well, what a  absolutely splendid evening of sublime music. I've missed far too many gigs this year, and am so glad that I made it to this one. Tonight was the album launch of Cary Grace's much anticipated fabulous new album 'Lady of Turquoise'. Cary's a mesmerizing performer and purveyor of quality compositions, check her page out, there's some beautifully work there charting Cary's musical evolution. Fantastic as her albums are, and they are, catching a live performance is something else; and tonight in Glastonbury's esteemed Assembly Rooms, a lovely venue, one with history, character and a great atmosphere; lovely staff and a great sound too. Tonight was going to be good!

 

It wasn't just Cary on the bill this evening either, no, tonight we were well and truly spoilt. First up was the wonderful Tim Hawthorn. It doesn't matter how Tim Hawthorn manifests, The Archytypes, The Anarchitypes or simply himself, his bardic magic never fails to engage and enthral; and tonight was no exception, a performer with range and presence. Tim was followed by Kangaroo Moon, those renowned troubadours of joy, whose performances are guaranteed to raise your spirits, and you to your feet...which of course they did. I heard Elliet say her violin is way over 200 years old, imagine that, it's been moving people for that many years, there's magic in that, man. Speaking of magic, one of the band's magical qualities is the alchemy created by transient members, tonight's transient was Hawklords bassist Tom Ashurst. Nice! Talking to Tom's affable friend Kav, they'd driven down from Wigan especially for the evening; I doff my cap to you sirs and salute your commitment. As you'd imagine Kangaroo Moon played a wonderfully set. 

 

Then the main event of the evening...The Cary Grace Band. It seems like an age since we last saw the Band perform, a collective of musicians of the highest calibre, who consistently deliver memorable performances and tonight was to be something special, the première of Cary's new album 'Lady of Turquoise'. Wow, Cary's surpassed herself with this one, what an album, and what a performance too! Cary's voice was on top form, as was her synthe, both magnificent instruments working wonders together. The bar was set for the rest of the band and as you'd expect, they rose to it. Victoria Reyes on keys contributed some lovely harmonies as well as Sax; her playing giving no indication that she'd only picked the instrument up a fortnight ago! Whilst John Garden looked so laid back delivering his masterful guitar, so much so that on several occasions he was reclined as if in repose on a chaise lounge. Underpinning it all a solid foundation brought by the formidable talents of David Payne (drums) and Andy Budge (bass) ensuring flawless rhythm; the two maestros really came into their own through the heavier segments. Talented folk all, whose talents shone throughout tonight's splendid performance; a magnificent job, this evening was the band's first time playing the new material live too. They all looked like they were having a good time (always lovely to see), there were plenty of smiles and looks between them as it all came together. I can say with authority that the audience absolutely loved it! Lady of Turquoise is a modern progressive psyche rock masterpiece, beautifully written and arranged, and tonight magnificently performed with a theatrical delivery perfectly pitched for the material.

What a lovely evening; what a splendid show, fabulous music, in a beautiful place, spent in the company of wonderful people...that pretty much ticks all the boxes of top evening. It was always fated to be a fabulous evening...which of course it was. You must check the album out Lady of Turquoise.

Timeless synergy

Timeless synergy. Close to Palmers Slough ford, two kings locked in symbolic embrace. The Oak King and Holly King forever trading occupancy of natures throne, each symbolizing the tenure of their reign, and each reliant on the other. I don't see their story as one of eternal battle, as often told, rather a story of partners engaged in a joint undertaking, each caretakers of their part of the ongoing project, and grateful for the respite offered by the other.

Dockens Water

 

Autumn colours reflected in Dockens Water.

Dead Man Oak

'Dead Man Oak' reads the shallow carved graffiti on a towering veteran leviathan in Mark Ash Wood. Thing is, it's a veteran beech rather than an oak.

Our seasonal shroom

I've seen quite a few nibbled or trodden examples, though this is the first complete small capped Fly Agaric I've seen this season. The iconic mushroom of midwinter and Christmas, from whence much of our seasonal folklore and imagery originates.

Knight Wood

The forest is full of magical hidden places, places that are a little off the beaten track, the places in-between, overlooked and rarely trodden. Places where you seldom, if ever, see others, and connection to woods and nature is easy. These are some of my favourite places, as they retain a certain something only felt, impossible to articulate. Above, a restored Warwickslade cutting meanders through the misty stands of Knight Wood; the restoration has resulted in the woodland slowly becoming waterlogged... it's welly country, and will only get wetter as the effects of restoration bed in. Knight Wood is unenclosed deciduous old forest, the oldest tracts being those of majestic veteran beech on the, slightly, higher ground, more recent the mature oaks through which Warwickslade cutting flows (they date somewhere in the 1800's, and drainage). Some of these oaks are not liking the wetter aspects of the restored landscape one bit, their broken limbs litter the woodland floor and several of the trees are looking rather peaky. Full restoration to bog woodland will be a long journey mind, it'll take decades for these oaks to be replaced by returning carr species. You know, I don't remember ever seeing another soul amongst these oaks, I'm sure there must be other visitors, and maybe they're thinking that they've never seen anybody here either.

Burley Old

I never tire of the natural beauty Burley Old manifests.

 

Aw nuts!

 

As I was saying regards pannage, the Sweet Chestnuts (Castanea sativa) this year have been rubbish. Traditionally, for me anyway, the fringes of Backley Enclosure have always been prime chestnut collecting woodland, and I don't remember it ever being so poor there. Yeah, there were  a handful of gooduns here and there, but no real corkers, and for the most part they've been little more than empty leathery sacks. Same everywhere we've roamed too. I hope it's an anomaly and not a sign of things to come... you do get good and bad years after all.

Pannage 2021

F*ck off! That's what Mrs Pig was saying, and what we did shortly after taking the photo as Mrs Pig took a dislike to Geoff and I. Not wishing to cast aspersions on Geoff, but I think it was him who Mrs Pig wanted gone rather than I. There were piglets in the group, and she was obviously taking no chances. It'll be a thin year's feasting this pannage for the forest's pigs, none of the forest's nuts have come to much.

Beefsteak

As a large Beefsteak fungi decays on the woodland floor, it's easy to see how it got it's name. Although, I think 'porksteak' may be more appropriate, as I think the fungi's flesh looks akin to pulled pork.

Vinny Ridge

 Vinney Ridge is home to some wonderfully gnarly veteran trees, tenacious buggers every one.

Boss...da plane, da plane!

This morning the sky above Duck Hole Bottom had me wondering if I'd inadvertently stepped through a time portal into late summer 1940. No matter in which direction you looked the sky was criss crossed by vapour trails. It's not the Battle Britain though, it's a sign of our collective cognitive dissonance in a far more wide ranging battle for humanity's very survival. 

 

I don't know about you, but after being politically and environmentally conscious, and to a degree active, since my teens I find myself despairing of the empty narratives of both.  I have to agree with Thunburg's 'blah, blah, blah' comment at COP26, and I don't see it confined to government and corporate green-wash either. As far as I can see it's most everyone and everything. The whole carbon neutral narrative, plant based everything, growing 'green' economies, sustainability through technological innervations, all smoke and mirrors, comforting bullshit, a deception we're happy to be complicit in. Evangelical believers if truth were known, after all, it's our lifestyles on the line, and no matter our words our actions betray the truth. We wag our fingers at corporations and government demanding change, and then happily accept their green-washed platitudes as just enough to sooth our consciences and allow us continue our destructive habits. If Covid has taught us anything, it's that society lacks commonality and is reluctant to change it's hedonistic self serving habits, even as death stalks the streets people raged that a hiatus in their consuming had been foist upon them, and, as soon as was possible returned to the free market trough...imagine when the climate mitigation penny drops...#shitstorm! In my opinion consumption, or rather the excesses there of,  is the enormous elephant in the room, rarely acknowledged for fear of the backlash the truth of the scale of reduction required to save us will inevitably provoke.

 

Yeah, corporations and governments deserve the wagging fingers, though really this shit's on us. For many of us the only genuine power we have is how we spend our money, a power we rarely use to positive effect...and yeah, I'm guilty too...few aren't. Millions in the moneyed classes wring their hands and pontificate, although are unwilling to give up their luxury, the happiest cohort to embrace the fallacy of green tech salvation, happy to pay a little extra to show their virtue and assuage their guilt whilst continuing their consumption unabated. Even the Millennials and GenZs who champion the environmental cause so passionately and vociferously are voracious consumers of tainted goods, who'll be loathed, if honest, to relinquish their destructive 24/7 lifestyles; limited ethical/sustainable consumption is at odds with 24/7 unlimited labelled consumption. And of course, then there's the lived experience of millions of poor Britain's which renders proposed climate mitigations and associated costs at best inaccessible and at worst disenfranchising, the ethics of consumption merely another luxury they can't afford. I'll be honest I couldn't support any climate measures which exacerbate widening inequality, we can either move forward together or we can 'all' go down together. Is that wrong? Meh.

 

What I'm trying ham-fistedly to say is that there's no fucking honesty in any of our political or environmental dialogues, and without honesty around the genuine scale and scope of the radical societal change required, and the social consequences involved to halt the climate catastrophe (and societal collapse), partnered with a compelling and unifying combination of authentic messaging and policy......it's all just 'blah, blah, blah'.

Gigless

After spending time with family and friends, what I've missed most over the last 18 months of covid weirdness is going out to gigs. I love live music, always have from my first gig at Bournemouth's Stateside, the Two Tone Tour in 1979 (The Specials, The Selecter, Madness). There's something about being in those communal spaces, being moved by the performances, experiencing the event in a very personal individual way, yet being connected to the others in the room and making it a shared experience too. I love that energy, it feeds something in me...maybe I'm a Colin Robinson? I think though like walking the wild places or sitting around a fire, a good gig resonates with something deep within us, triggering ancestral memory maybe...communal events with music go as far back as we do. I was watching a Cary Grace Band gig from 2018 at the King Arthur, it reminded me of the joy afforded by quality live music. What a top gig. That's what I miss bands like the Cary Grace Band giving stellar performances in intimate venues like the King Arthur. You can't beat that shit. On the 'Arthur'; discovering the King Arthur was like finding a rare treasure, a warm and welcoming establishment with a constant stream of quality performers plying their art, we've enjoyed so many fine evening there. I can't wait to attend to live performances again. As it happens it was a Cary gig that was my last gig before covid, also in Glastonbury, though this time at the larger Assembly rooms...another stellar gig (where's that post?).

Spy Holms

Wow! A sight I don't remember seeing before, well, at least, nowhere, nowhere near to this extent. All the open grass areas of Spy Holms were completely swathed in a glistening, gently rippling sea of gossamer this afternoon. Quite the magical sight. Why? How? For that matter, how many bloody spiders did it take?

Amethyst deceiver

The floor of Burley Old is carpeted in Amethyst Deceivers (Laccaria amethystina), an interesting little edible, not particularly flavoursome though a fun addition to a soup or such if you want to cause a raised eyebrow in those not in the know...little purple mushrooms, not what you expect in your dinner. A word of caution though, although edible and non toxic in themselves, some sources suggest that if there's arsenic in the soil, Deceivers can build up high concentrations of it. So, maybe best avoided...unless you've a soil testing kit to hand.

Samhain

 

With last harvest safely gathered in, the year comes to close and the season of Samhain begins with a three day festival remembering those who've passed beyond the veil, feasting and metaphorically cleaning house...letting go. A carved pumpkin in my window acts as a beacon to those who may wish to visit from beyond...they are always welcome. I remember them, dear family members and fiends, those whose memories I endeavour to keep alive through the regular retelling of stories...mostly humorous, though some recounting wisdoms, others warnings. As I close my eyes and focus on each of them, their faces appear, always with beaming smiles, which in turn make me smile. This is one of my favourite festivals of the eightfold year. Samhain blessings y'all.   

Storm damage

Last night's fierce winds have wreaked havoc through the stands of Burley Old. This morning the woodland floor is strewn with canopy detritus, with broken leafy tips, splinter ended branches, fallen boughs, and sadly some much larger casualties too. High winds and clothed canopies are a recipe for disaster, one that's increasingly on the menu.