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.

Fir Cone

 

We're more used to seeing coniferous cones in their final dry brown form littering the winter stands-if we register them at all, it's easy to forget how they began verdant, supple, delicate in form and colour; natures' designs are so cool. There are few different cones found in the New Forest, this one belongs to a Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii).

This is England

 

I love this landscape, this for me is England. Don't misunderstand me, I love the New Forest's stands and heaths, I love the Purbeck hills and it's rocky coast, but if I was asked to describe a quintessential English landscape then it would have to be the Chase. To me the Chase' valleys, it's streams, copses, tree lined fields and archetypal hamlets, nestled between rolling hills and high ridgeways marked by the works of our ancestors epitomise rural England, or at least an imagined one. I've wondered why I feel that emotional response to the Chase, and I've come to the conclusion that it's because until recently, just a couple of centuries or so ago, our lives would've been intrinsically linked to landscapes like this and the seasons, and  if landscapes have any capacity as a repository of memory then Cranborne Chase represents a well stocked library, the valleys and hills well illustrated wide open books.

Forestry tracks

Over recent months the forestry have been cleaning the main forest tracks of encroachment, returning them to their supposed width; they look quite grand with a meter or two having been added to many. The machinists who undertake such work are skilled in just skimming off what is required; I've seen at close quarter what these skilled operators can do in an archaeological trench, taking the soil down centimetres at a time, it's impressive to watch. 

Blackensford Brook

I don't think that there's anywhere better to sit and rest awhile than on the banks of one of the forest's babbling brooks, serenaded by the canopy choir and bathed in warm dappled sunlight.

 

Oak stand in Dames Slough

Oak stand in Dames Slough.

The Ebble

What a glorious sight, one of the many treats of chalk downland walking, their crystal clear chalk streams. There are only around 200 chalk streams on Earth, on Earth!, and 85% of them are found in southern and eastern England...how cool is that, and how blessed to live in said region. It's easy to understand why our ancestors held rivers, streams and wet places in such reverence; they embody life. What's not so cool is that so many of these priceless chalk streams are in a bad way; thankfully though the Ebble is not one them and radiates a real 'waters of life' vibe. Quite mesmerizing.

Hares

We ventured inland again for Sunday's big walk, again returning to Cranborne Chase. What a difference from last weekend though, this morning the sun shone bright and warm from the get go. By what ever metric you choose The Chase is a magnificent landscape full of wonderful sights. A particular thrill for me is the frequency you get to see hares. Always a joy watch, and we'd snuck up close on three hares taking in the morning as we trod the Faulston Drove, what a privilege; of course on clocking us the spell was broken and they were off making for the far field boundary and invisibility. Hares have always held a special importance in spirituality, being associated with the Moon, rebirth, beginnings and growth; three hares forming an endless circle was a common motif of medieval Britain too, whether to ward off evil or solicit good fortune is still debated; I'll take either. 

Gone in a flash

Moments before I took this photo a beautiful Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) emerged from beneath the bridge I'm standing on and sped downstream; you'll just have to imagine it though, as the Kingfisher's an illusive bird, glimpsed more often than seen. The frequent vertical nature of the banks along this section of Highland Water are well suited to the Kingfisher's burrow, and the stream healthy enough to support their dietary needs. I always feel blessed to glimpse these majestic birds, and this morning more so as it remained in sight for longer than usual. I was lucky today.

Bogbean

 

A particularly attractive wildflower the Bogbean (Menyanthes trifoliata) is nationally uncommon, though a fairly common sight in the wetter areas of the forest. Lucky us I say.

Chase Avenue

What a difference. All the way through our outward journey the mists endured, though as we reached Berwick Down and the beginning of our return leg the mists slowly evaporated to the point that our walk along the Chase Avenue was bathed in radiant sunlight. What a day.

The scent of spring

Ramsons (Allium ursinum) are a common sight amongst Cranborne's woodlands where they frequently form heavily scented lush green carpets. A Wild Garlic wood has to be one of my favourite, if not my favourite Spring sights (and scents). 

Stonard morning

We were out early doors this morning, beginning our walk over Cranborne Chase ways shortly after sunrise. Mist clung amongst the stands. Stonard Wood looked like a set from Robin of Sherwood or Middle Earth. Not a soul about, lovely, just the subtle sound and movement of nature changing shifts to the dawn chorus. The conditions under foot were such that even travelling at a good pace you could move near silently, I find it's a nice way to move through the land, lends your walk an ethereal feel. I thought the woods misty, though nothing compared to the Ridgeway where visibility was down to 50 meters at times; like walking through the clouds. What a day.

Froglets

It's that time in the wheel when the slow flowing ditches and watery spots which saw frog spawn earlier in spring are now thronged with dozens and dozens of baby froglets. Man, are they fast too. I suppose they need to be. 

Spruce tips

The fresh tips of the forest's Spruce (Picea abies; I think) have a quality that make them appear to luminesce, particularly so when set against the backdrop of a damp forest on a drab day. I understand that fresh spruce tips are edible, although I've not as yet tried them. I really should.

Greens

Presently the forest is bathed in the most wonderful palette of verdant greens; peak vitality. It's really a rather striking sight.

Off road

 

One piece of advice I'd offer anyone visiting the New Forest is, if you really want to connect with the heart and soul of the forest, you can do far worse than to walk where there are no paths; yeah, it may not be as straight forward a walk with obstacles varied and plenty, but the rewards are aspects of the forest few get to see. If you can do it, it's worth doing it. 

Dames Slough

Dames Slough. Even the forestry drains have a certain beauty to them.

Midland Hawthorn

 

The arrival of May sees the Hawthorn (Crataegus) flowers beginning to burst forth; the first you'll see will probably be Midland Hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata) which usually flowers a couple of weeks before Common Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna); our Common Hawthorn's buds are still tightly rolled balls, it looking like they're going to put on quite a show though.

Burley Old

A walk through Burley Old never gets old.

 

Apples

As the apple trees over the common are coming into blossom, I've noticed their number is multiplying with several young trees popping up. To my knowledge all the Common's apple trees, well at least all the ones I've tested, are eaters rather than cookers. I don't know what variety of apple they are, though they have the feel of an older less breed variety and produce small yet flavoursome fruits with tough skins. I'm hoping for a good fruiting season as I've got some appley plans.

Wood Sorrel

 

Back from Glastonbury, Geoff and I went for a wander in the forest, pausing a while to mark Beltane at a favourite spot on the bank of Red Rise Brook. All about the forest is coming to life, numerous small flowers bejewel it's woodland floors and one of the most attractive is the delicate and subtly coloured Wood Sorrel (Oxalis acetosella). Emerging from the mossy floor, opening and closing as the intensity of light dictates, and indicator of an ancient woodland, Wood Sorrel is common amongst the forest's stands.

Jump for joy

 

Jump for joy; spring has sprung.

Up on the hill

There wasn't too much of a sunrise this morning; and the faint sunrise there was had a distant view of Mordor look to it. That didn't matter mind, a fancy sunrise would have been nice, though it was simply being up on the Tor marking Beltane sunrise for the first time since 2019, that was the prize. I've been seeing in the Beltane Sun on Glastonbury Tor for over 30 years, and after an abstinence, it felt wonderful to be celebrating the turning of the wheel of the year up on the hill amongst the gathered; 'up on the hill is where you find us, yeah, up on the hill that shit is timeless', Fun Loving Criminals. The setting, the familiar sounds of the Morris, familiar faces in the crowd, and the familiar words communally spoken in May Day rite, it certainly felt timeless to me. Beltane blessings y'all /|\ What ever seeds you're now sowing, more power to your elbow.