Sun through High Wood

Sun through High Wood

Golden

A Golden Retriever immersed in a golden dawn; Geoff takes in the sunrise as we approach the exit the lower defencive ditch after spiralling around the hillfort's defences from top rampart to lowest ditch.

Dawn mist

 

As the sun rose so did the dawn mists and 30 minutes after I'd taken the photo of the Solstice sun rising, I took this photo above. A dramatic transformation, swift too. Where we'd enjoyed expansive vistas across the Dorset landscape, now we could barely see the adjacent ramparts and the Solstice Sun looked more akin to a bright full moon. Then just as swiftly 30 minutes later again, the mist had completely evaporated and disappeared to reveal a glorious morning and the magnificent surrounding landscape. Added a certain magic to an already outstanding Solstice.

Rise and shine

Badbury Rings, a venerable Iron Age citadel of the Durotriges, the 'Celtic' tribe of our region; and the perfect place to welcome in the Summer Solstice sunrise. Parking off the Beech lined Blandford Road we followed a track up towards Badbury as the eastward horizon took on a subtle peach hue. The sun was coming. Scaling the inner rampart, the highest one, we took up a familiar position, one we'd occupied several times previously; we weren't alone, around the ramparts a number of people were waiting for the Sun to rise too. I took time to ground myself, to focus on my breathing, as I cleared my mind and shifted my inner focus from the mundane to the significance of the moment. The Oak King's time has come, the land is burgeoning, the Goddess is flourishing, and the Horned God's work is done; the Holly King now takes the throne and oversees our slow return towards darkness. I seem always to be taken by surprise at the speed at which the sun breaks cover, and marvelled at it's ascent. Nearby a group of women began to chant, allowing me to run some Awens without feeling too self conscious; I drank in the atmosphere. What a sensational Solstice sunrise.  Solstice blessings y'all /|\

White mares

 

We saw three white mares on Red Rise brook this morning. Which was nice. I've always been taken by white horses; I think initially it was a 60's TV show of that name which captivated me, the theme tune of which still plays in my head whenever I see a white horse, and later their association with folklore.  The White Mare Goddess and the Summer Solstice are linked; is this Epona, Etain and Rhiannon preparing for their duties perhaps?  I'd like to think so.

After the rain

This morning it was like the Gods had turned up the saturation on the forest; the rain has refreshed and revived the the stands, and verdance reigned. We were out early again, the first (to our knowledge anyway) of the day to tread these woodland paths, breath deep their freshly cleansed air and atmosphere; and it felt good.

Chicken's hatched

First Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus) I've spotted this year; a good healthy clump too; could be a week or so old, still good enough to eat though.

Wild colts

We watched a pair of young colts sparring, practising the moves and manoeuvres they'll need in order to gain status in the herd as young adults; learning through role play, as did we. One kicked the other in the face, then as if shocked by it's action ran to it's mothers side, the other slightly stunned looked quite nonplussed; any animosity didn't last though, and it wasn't long until the colts were reunited in play, both mothers and sons moving on in unison. The scene strangely resonated, struck a chord; it's lovely to watch animal behaviour, to see them in us and us in them, seeing in so many ways we are one.

Flat Oak

I've long known this Ancient and venerable oak as the Flat Oak according to it's shape, although this morning Cernunnos had manifest deep in the woods and the mighty oak was undeniably channelling the horned God; apt with the Summer Solstice soon upon us.

The beach

We've neglected the coast of late, so our walk this morning was to and along the beach. Beautiful morning, and hardly a soul about.

Stream side path

The entire walkable length of Highland Water from Ocknell Arch down stream to Bolderford Bridge where it joins Flecthers Water becoming the Lymington River is blessed with some wonderfully picturesque paths. The streams nourish the forest, and all forest life is seen frequenting their environs at some point; if you want to connect with the heart of the forest then you could do worse than to walk their meandering banks. 

View from the top

 

Imagine being this wood Ant (Formica rufa) surveying the vast wild expanse of the forest before you from the vantage of this towering Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea); must be a different world. Puts me in mind of Brian Aldiss' sci-fi novel Hothouse where far future humans live on an Earth choked with giant plants; good read if you enjoy the fantasy genres.

Chewton Common

 

Our local common is a wonderful space, as well as a vital community resource. A mosaic of different environmental types: heather and gorse heath, rough grassland, pockets of coniferous and deciduous woodland; it's seasonally waterlogged in winter/spring due to underlying clay geology and choked with towering growth in summer/autumn. Set in our suburban sprawl it's a rich and diverse parcel of land, of massive value to wildlife as well as locals. It's a nice size tract of land, not huge, though being criss crossed by a myriad paths gives it the illusion of being much bigger than it is, and gives you the opportunity if you opt for canny routes utilising as many paths as possible to rack up surprising distances. As I say, a wonderful space. Common land is a blessing, man, and one I'm grateful for; though by natural law reasonable access to the land should be ours by right. 

Oak Apple

Oak Apple, home to the Oak Apple Gall Wasp (Biorhiza pallida), easy to see where it gets it's name; looks and feels like a gone over apple. I'm sure there's been a marked increase in galls on the oaks in recent years; last year locally the oaks of the common were covered in Knopper galls.

The season of bare bottoms has begun

The forest's streams are beginning to show at lot of their gravelly asses of late; the season of bare bottoms has begun.

Double time

I was fairly certain at the very beginning of this morning's walk that the distance and the time I'd allowed to complete it walking were not compatible, and yet still I undertook it.  The route in question had no short cuts, no corners to cut, and I couldn't exceed my 45 minute window. Although from the get go we were pacing it, we weren't even a third into our walk before the necessity move at the double if I wasn't to be late became apparent, eventually we returned to the car just 2 minutes adrift. Why do I do this? Because I do, a lot! I wondered if it's my subconscious making me run, which unless on a treadmill my body firmly rejects as a silly proposition. Maybe I just like the challenge; I do like to challenge myself. Anyway. The route itself from Throop Mill is a lovely one, after crossing the bridge and accompanying the River Stour a while downstream you turn inland along a track towards the ford through Leaden Stour (above) and beyond following meandering isolated country lanes until you turn back towards the Stour, following her course once again until you return to the bridge and old mill.

Lazin' on a sunny afternoon

 

The Kinks sang; I love to live so pleasantly, live this life of luxury, lazin' on a sunny afternoon. The forests' deer and ponies aren't bothered what time of day it is, they'll laze in the sun whenever. They weren't even bothered that one man and his dog (surely both high on their dangerous predator list) were just meters away watch them; you know, I don't believe the forests' deer could any longer be classified as wild.

Elderflower

As appears the lot of all blossoming trees this year, the Elders (Sambucus nigra) are showing copious blooms. I understand that the excess has been driven (in part at least) by last years hot weather and the freezing stretch at the beginning of the year; apparently, due to climatic changes trees are blooming 2 weeks earlier than they were 30 or 40 years ago. Can't be right.