Cloudy start

A subdued morning at the Head, and a cloudy start to the day.

Blimey, what a difference a day makes. Today we've got 45 degree driving rains and gusts of chill wind, juxtaposed with short bursts of warm sunshine. I'm only walking for a few minutes before I'm soaked, and the bursts of sun are far from hot enough nor long enough to dry me out. Moments after this picture was taken the clouds opened letting the sun shine through and these sheltering ponies all dashed on mass out on to the nearby open lawn. Their joy was to be short lived, as moments later the rains were back with a vengeance.  Walking today was a shock to the system, and a timely reminder that autumn is rapidly approaching and with it the possibility of more unsettled times (once it would have been certainty, though climate change means nothing is certain when it comes to weather and the seasons). 

Burley Old

Back in the forest, back immersed in the magic of Burly Old, and magic it is, so strong you can feel it touching you. More and more I find places like these becoming havens of solitude and tranquillity in the ever increasing maelstrom of noisy dysfunction and madness that is our society, nay our whole civilization, as it crumbles under the weight of its own failure to evolve spiritually.

Tynehan Valley & Worbarrow Bay

It was up early and out this morning, Geoff and I were on a mission to Purbeck, Tyneham and Worbarrow to be precise. Visiting Purbeck in the summer can be a tricky operation, as the summer sees the area thronged with thousands of visitors. You need to get there early to avoid the traffic chaos on the way out, and get away early to avoid the traffic chaos on the way back. As a consequence we arrived arrived at the gate down to Tyneham by 0830, unfortunately only to find the gate wasn't opened until 0900. Still, no biggy. We were the first in, and bar a few overnighters who'd outstayed their welcome on the range the night before (something I noted with interest, and something I'll remember for future overnight missions), we had the valley to ourselves, and lovely it was too.  I think the Tyneham Valley is one of the most beautiful spots in Purbeck, taken by the army for training purposes during the war, it was depopulated (and many of it's building levelled after damage and subsequent neglect) and hasn't seen any post war developments and therefore retained an air of semi wilderness. It's bitter sweet mind, as the pre war occupants were told they would be able to return to their homes and lands after the war, only for the army to keep hold of the land, land they still use and control today.  It's about 3/4 of a mile from the deserted village of Tyneham down to Worbarrow Bay, the track runs alongside a narrow though deep cut stream, it's a lovely walk with great views. The bay was clear  and as we walked the pebbly beach the sun started to warm the land, so much so that by the time we reached the far end of the bay we were ready for a swim. Man, the swimming was nice today, clear water, cool but not cold, you feel revived and refreshed afterwards. I noted it was colder here than the swimming we've been doing at the Head, it's always a touch colder here than round our ways though. Once dried off, it was up Worbarrow Tout, or Mud Mountain is we know it, a lump of rock and clays protruding out into the sea, named so by us after the slippery side of it we used to, foolishly, climb. From the top you get this wonderful view up through the valley, as well as stunning views along the coast in both directions. I could have stayed up there for hours, just watching, just being here in the wild place were sea and land meet, communing with nature. Though, as with most days, I've got a ton of stuff to be getting on with, and all too soon we were on the road home. I'm grateful for any opportunity to escape though, and know we're so lucky to have places like this to escape to.

Bullace

Wandering along Dark Lane this morning with Geoff I was struck by how laden with fruit the hedgerow shrubs are, Sloe, Haw, Hazel, Oak, all are weighed down with ripening produce.  A nice surprise was to find a few good sized Bullace (Prunus insititia) shrubs also well laden with fruits. It got me thinking, just imagine if as a society we embarked on a massive program of hedge laying, of creating miles of hedges. Imagine the quantities of fruits and nuts we could harvest in a good year, not to mention the creation of valuable wildlife habitats and in light of the climate crisis, the carbon sinks we'd establish. If only we thought outside of our self constructed box, nature offers simple solutions to humanities complex problems.

Delivery from Fruits de Mer Records.

This morning the posty delivered a much anticipated haul of goodies from the most excellent Fruits de Mer Records.  A package from Fruits de Mer Records is always something to please your ears, warm your heart and send your spirit soaring.  Oh Happy day!

Water baby

Geoff loves indulging his Water Spaniel heritage.

The Long Groyne

King Canute understood, both literally and figuratively, and he tried to explain it to folk. Sadly though, nearly a thousand years on we still haven't understood our limits or our place in mother natures scheme. We'd make life much easier for ourselves, and her, if we did. So much wasted effort.

After the rain

A visual example as to the fragility of the coast at Barton. Only last week the cliffs here were near vertical, their base clear of debris, as was the intertidal. One minor downpour and the cliffs have slumped noticeably, their base and close intertidal littered with fallen clay boulders and their face lined with a filigree of rivulets eager to return to the source. Though years of human intervention to stem erosion consistently fails to stop these prehistoric marine clays returning to the sea, in fact they're swept into the themselves. We can hinder natures plans, though never foil them, nor have true dominion over her. We'd be better, as a variety of projects have shown, working with mother nature and changing our ways when required. Sadly though, our hubris is our Achilles Heel. 

Water Lilies

I thought how the 'Head' has changed over the years as I walked through memories and time there this morning.  It feels as if Hengistury Head has always featured in my life.  Childhood days out with kites, or Noddy Train rides and the beach.  A favoured adventure land in my young teens, skiving school, jumping the Noddy Train, being chased by the Noddy Train drivers as well as the first place I wild camped. It appeared much wilder then, it was much wilder then, more removed, that said, it's still wild-ish now. It became a different type of adventure land in my later teens, substances ensured that. It's always been somewhere I've walked too. When I worked in the engineers department at the local authority we'd survey the Head regularly to record the rate of erosion, it took a couple of days, and we did that a few times a year. Nice work as I remember. Halfway down the harbour face of the Head are ponds above the waste tips created by quarrying in previous centuries. These, now thriving wildlife ponds, used to be near lifeless murky puddles, in fact the whole landscape had a tangible post industrial feel to it as I remember, a bare nakedness beyond first colonisers and invasive flora. So many memories connected with this place, I'm connected with this place. And, I know I'm just one of many over the centuries to have felt that connection. Hengistbury Head has been the focus of human activity for millennia, 14,000 year ago Upper Palaeolithic hunters utilized the headland, as did the our Mesolithic ancestors, the Bronze Age saw the harbour developing and the promontory was a focus of Round Barrow burials, the Iron Age saw the harbour port continue to develop as an important centre for trade, this continued throughout the Roman period. Later centuries saw smuggling, quarrying and defence all feature, in-between long periods of pastoral obscurity. So I'm not just walking through my history, I'm walking through the history of the country, human and natural, and I just love that. 

Copious Cobs

It's not just the common Hazel out and about that's got a bumper crop developing, in our garden the Cobs (a variety of Hazel which produces much larger fruits, sometimes also known as 'Filberts') are better laden than we've ever seen then them. The same applies to them though as with the wild varieties, it's only at harvest we'll know if the shells are full. Last year we had a fantastic crop of good (commercial) sized nuts, and very tasty they were too. Fingers crossed for the years haul.

Nut clusters

Walking over The Tarrents again and along the hedgerows and in the coppiced woodlands the hazel boughs are sagging under the weight of this years developing nuts. Commonly the nuts hang singly, in pairs or sometimes threes, though this year clusters of five, six or more are more than commonplace. I don't remember a year of such fecundity, though the proof will only be known at harvest time. You can never really know what's inside the shell, frequently a good sized healthy looking shell produces nought to speak of, or even nought at all. Still, there could well be a bumper harvest to come.

July Full Moon and partial eclipse

July's full Moon with the partial eclipse clearly visible. 

Crocodogodile

Many of the forest streams are parched, their naked gravelly bottoms on display. They still flow out of sight though, underground and unseen. Although 'flow' is probably not an accurate description, more seep from puddle to puddle.  Take the remodelled Fletcher's Water as it runs along Fletcher's Green approaching Highland Water, it's more winding gravel path with puddles than stream. I wondered whether climate crisis is making these events any more frequent or intense, it looks more dramatic than it is I think, I remember the forests streams always doing this to some degree. I suppose it's the duration of these events that is the crux, and how the forest critters will fare when even the puddles dry out. I spotted a Crocodogodile in one of the puddles, now there's a thing you don't see every day.

Russian Spy 7" By The Neighbourhood Strange

Those premier psychedelic sons of Salisbury 'The Neighbourhood Strange' are back with a vengeance with their fabulous 7" release, the topical 'Russian Spy'. If you've seen the band perform live you'll know they're a tight outfit of  consummate musicians delivering their brand of high quality mod-esque psychedelia with panache and brio. That flavour comes across beautifully in both Russian Spy and the flip sides 'Many Secrets' (as well as all the bonus material available on the CD EP release).

The 'A' side 'Russian Spy' has a melody echoing the folk sound of the steppe or that moment in a 60's TV drama when the 'Reds' appear, and a fantastic chorus with an appropriately Red Army sounding harmony, throughout the track is peppered with nods to recent dramatic events in Salisbury and references to the east/west political dichotomy. Russian Spy is a modern cold war classic born of the attempted assassination by nerve agent of 'hero of Russia' and double agent/former spy Sergei Skripal. Though the novichok wasn't strong enough to take out Skripal, what is powerfully strong is this track, which works beautifully both musically and lyrically. The 'B' side 'Many Secrets' ostensibly has a great Mod revival (of the late 70's) feel to it, played at an energetic pace and sung with gusto, also buried in there is that intelligent punk sound I'd associate with bands like The Damned at their peak. Although throughout Bob's wonderful organ ensures the sensibilities of the modernist hey day are maintained. Bob's organ is perfect at conjuring a genuine mid 60's British sound and atmosphere, which to me has a timeless appeal and consistently shines on every track. Whilst, front man Marcus has the perfect demeanour and voice to deliver this punchy fast paced style of mod infused psychedelic pop rock with a side serving of punky asthetic, and he has the swagger to match. We should remember though that a great band is gestalt, created by the contributions all the band members, and so it is with 'The Strange'. Dazman on bass and Matt on drums ensure by their solid performances that the rhythm section on all the tracks is tight and drives the numbers along at an appropriate velocity. Whilst guitarist Mark provides some great guitar riffs, as well as wonderfully proficient and expertly performed string work throughout. Splendid stuff, man!

The Neighbourhood Strange have done it again, they've nailed it. The band deserve more acclaim, it's a wonder to me that The Neighbourhood Strange aren't better known, they really should be. Russian Spy along with their previous 2 single releases showcase their manifest talents as writers and musicians, and their fabulous live performances always hit the spot. There's nothing not to love about this band and their beautifully crafted sound, a sound so broad in appeal that it transcends genre boundaries.  They're all nice fellows to boot. 

Russian Spy is available now on bandcamp as a 7" vinyl single or CD EP, each comes with a digital download of the EP's 5 tracks (Russian Spy, Many Secrets, Mary Mary, Walk On Water, Desert Sand). You can also get a copy of the 7" vinyl single on The Neighbourhood Strange website. I'm sure I'm not alone in hoping that a LP with be forthcoming, it really should, I know the band easily has enough top quality material. Fingers crossed, ay. To be honest where you buy Russian Spy isn't important, that you make certain you do buy it is the paramount thing, don't miss out on this gem (while you're about it check out their previous singles too), bag yourself a copy today! And make sure you catch one of their live performances too, I guarantee you wont be disappointed.

What a hoot.

Someone has carved this wonderful Owl on a stump alongside one of the paths in bungalow land. The photo doesn't really give an accurate impression of scale, it's a mature trees stump and the whole thing stands about 2m high. It's so cool that people take the time and make the effort to produce street art, particularly when it's done out of the way, where the surprise of finding art packs an even bigger punch. More surprise art, I say. Fantastic!

Broomrape

Broomrape (Orobanche),  Ivy Broomrape (Orobanche hederae) I think, growing along an old mature tree lined wooded corridor through bungalow land. They're a parasitic plant family relying entirely on other plants to stay alive, they don't produce any chlorophyll so need the host to supply nutrients. There are over 200 types of Orobanche and most aren't picky as to their host, although the Ivy Broomrape is, only living on Ivy (as it's name suggests).  Nature never ceases to fill me with wonder.

The Cliff

The countryside was glorious this morning, a parade of beautifully lit rural vistas, along rustic woodland paths and field edge tracks.  As we walked along the ridge running above the Tarrants 'The Cliff' came into view; that title never ceases to amused me.  Okay, it's the steepest hillside in the Tarrant valley, though Cliff, surely that's stretching it too far.  Some one was having a laugh back in the day, I reckon. Unless they genuinely hadn't seen a cliff and thought this was what they were like. Imagine their surprise had they travelled a few miles south to the Jurassic coast. 

Ruins

It's strange the things you come across whilst out walking. This morning we came upon some ruins tucked away amongst tree alongside a woodland track running through Chetterwood, which is a mosaic of deciduous and coniferous tree with a coppiced under-story.  A small rectangular structure, it's so degraded I couldn't fathom it's nature or purpose, beyond, it was constructed of brick, oldish brick I think. With the central part of the structure smothered by trees reaching for the sky, it rather gave the appearance of a pound shop version of one of the smaller temples at Angkor.  Nature will consume the works of man when left to her own devices, and if we don't change our ways, that'll be the shape of things to come.

Echo by Custard Flux

Psychedelic maestro Gregory Curvey returns with a second helping of gorgeous Custard Flux in form of 'Echo'. If you don't know who Gregory Curvey is, he's the multi-talented musician, artist, artisan, front man and driving force behind one of the psychedelic genre's leading bands, The Luck of Eden Hall. Custard Flux is a solo project of his based around a dilapidated harmonium he discovered and restored. Helium was the first serving of psychedelic Custard Flux, rich and musically tasty it was too, then there was an bonus spoonful with the general release of  the 'extras',  which had been included in the sumptuous Deluxe Helium Box Set (now sold out).

I love Helium, it's a brilliant album standing head and shoulders above the crowd, easily the best release of 2018 (and soon to be available as a double vinyl release). Could Curvey equal that brilliance? Of course he could, and as always, he's excelled himself. Echo's been conceived in that same bubbling custard cauldron, and its time simmering has allowed it to develop even richer deeper flavours. From the opening track, the wonderfully energetic 'Supernatural', Echo has you captivated and you'll dance to its tune, it's stunning album. If you're expecting Helium 2 then you're in for a surprise, Echo may share Helium's DNA, though an evolved, expanded and mutated version of it. Curvey's crafted another genuinely unique sounding album, and a worthy companion for Helium. Again, it's an acoustic album (beyond a brief foray with an electric guitar) with Gregory playing piano, harmonium, guitars, auto-harp, mouth-harp and drums, he's also written all the music and lyrics (other than one track co-written with Tim Ferguson) as well as delivering his instantly recognizable vocals...and I bet he mixed and produced it too. Amazing. Interestingly, this time around he's added a couple of new ingredients in Timothy Prettyman's double bass and Walt Prettyman's violin. I have to say, genius additions. The new instruments are immediately noticeable, Timothy Prettyman's terrific double basses richer more earthy bass tones add depth to the rhythm section, and good violin simply lifts music to a higher ethereal level, and Walt Prettyman's sensational violin playing does that in spades. I think Walt Prettyman's violin transforms the Custard Flux sound, in him Curvey found a philosopher's stone.

Gregory's a proficient and musically eloquent multi-instrumentalist, with a distinct guitar and vocal style.  He has an ear for detail, and is a tonal alchemist with a magpie's eye, who sips from myriad springs of inspiration. He takes disparate ingredients and creates aural magic, always something original, although something with that indubitable Curvey watermark running through it, and always something marvellously psychedelic. With Echo, Curvey has taken Custard Flux to new heights, serving up a heavenly cordon bleu feast of psychedelia, with a healthy helping of progressive accoutrements all liberally topped with tasty pop croutons. Très magnifique! Like any good feast it's how the flavours complement each other, which were chosen and how they were blended that makes all the difference. At this too, Curvey is king. A hint of mid 60's London and a smidgen of later 60's west coast ('Pink Indians' has a glorious Zappa-esque feel), a generous pinch of 70's atmosphere and just a wisp of the 80's, all add piquancy. Each track has an individual character, and to some there's a certain cinematic feel, like they'd work in a soundtrack or make a good video.  A favourite of mine 'Gold' is a track you could imagine making a great a video, the lyrics evoke such strong imagery. Evocative lyrics is another of Gregory's manifest skills, a proper bard, he's able to deliver emotionally resonant lyrics as in 'Cirque d’Enfant', an enchanting track, really lovely (and the track with the electric guitar), and he's equally at home lampooning too, take 'America', a wry look at the reality of the American dream, beautifully observed, relevant and essential, as if people don't point, nobody looks. From start to finish Echo enthrals you, taking you on a astounding aural journey, and as the final track 'Suns and Daughters' (which leaves you feeling warm and uplifted) fades you're left wanting more. As is consistent with Gregory's work there's no filler, man, every note counts, the detail, the wonderful melodies, and the fabulous flourishes, all beautifully composed and elegantly performed to perfection. Echo represents the finest in contemporary psychedelic music, no, really Custard Flux's Echo  transcends genre labels, put simply... it's bloody good music. I doff my cap to you sir!

Echo is an album you'll want to have in your collection. It's available now through bandcamp as a digital download or on CD, with a vinyl release later in the year. Go on, spoil yourself, buy this album!

Ladybirds

This year we’ve had a deluge of aphids, they covered everything, our hazel trees, cherry trees, elder, fennel, very few plants escaped their attention. Of course the ants who farm them were happy, plenty of sweet goo. Always a bummer for a gardener though. I suppose everything has its place and purpose in nature and as a consequence of the aphid invasion the garden became incredibly attractive to ladybirds, we had dozens of them, subsequently the shrubs were covered in eggs and then larvae.  Sadly most, if not all, appeared to be Harlequins or Asian Ladybirds (Harmonia axyridis), highly invasive, they carry parasites that they're immune to, they're detrimental to our indigenous ladybirds, and I understand they bite people too! Crazy.  Most of the pupa have hatched now and the last few new ladybirds have taken flight. I'll admit I find it quite confusing emotionally, I love seeing bugs and groovy insects, but these aren't indigenous, I know they spell the end of our traditional ladybirds and I have no idea of the knock on effect that may have. And I have to wonder, is this just species evolution or have we caused this situation? I think I think too much, man.

Splendid isolation

I saw a solitary wizened tree standing in a sea of fecundity. A visual metaphor for contemporary Britain I thought, once standing proud, now hubristic in our decay as we return to our 19th century policy of splendid isolation. We will reap what we sow, and a thin harvest it'll be.

Wheaty Geoff

We were out walking around the Tarrants today and the path we were following went through a wheat field. Geoff had never experienced this environment before and, man, did he love it. Luckily there were no farmers to see Geoff's frolicking. 

The Marshes

Another local walk today. A local walk for local people, Christchurch can be a bit that way. I think in reality, everywhere can be a bit local, it's human nature. Today we walked over the marshes, that'll be Stanpit Marsh. Man, we used to be over the marshes all the time, there are so many memories connected to this piece of land bordering Christchurch harbour, and Hengistbury Head over the harbour. The 'Head' was the first place I wild camped when I was 14, disastrous of course. It was lovely walking here today, it's decades after I first set foot over here, and to be honest little if anything has changed, and in our current ever changing world that's a rare achievement. Strangely reassuring and comforting.

Nea Meadows

Walking around Nea Meadows you'd think you were out in the countryside somewhere, and until the post war expansion in housing, you would have been. The area was an expanse of farm and heath land, a sparsely occupied buffer between Christchurch town and Highcliffe village, now one continuous conurbation, though Nea remains as a natural oasis in 'Bungalow Land', the post war urban sprawl, and a reminder of what was. Most of the developments took place before I lived around here, though in the last 40 years I've seen many of the remaining pockets of green swallowed up, until today very few remain. It's a lovely parcel of land too, grassland and woodland with a fair sized lake fed by two rivulets.  And, even though it's an island in a sea of housing, it's still and quiet, and it's not hard to imagine yourself far from the madding crowd.

Martin Down

The Chase (Cranborne Chase) is a versatile landscape, a mosaic of woodland, grassland  and farmland, mostly arable, though some grazing. Today we were roaming Martin Down, an extensive tract of chalk grassland. This landscape has been favoured by our ancestors for thousands of years; they've hunted it, farmed it, occupied it and ritualized it, their works litter the land, layer over layer of rich history.  The photo is taken from a robbed out Bronze Age Round Barrow, whether robbed by 'archaeologists' in antiquity or by treasure hunters, I don't know off hand, although the scar left by their endeavours is clearly visible. Lovely day for walking, I was glad to have got out early, mind, as it was really warming up by late morning.  

Bracken

With the bracken at it's zenith the forest is finally fully transformed. Gone are the wide vistas through the stands, those long lines of sight, the openness. The forest has now closed in on herself, creating myriad hidden spaces, for the most part you can't see more than a few meters around of you, and even in the woods you know well, it's easy to loose track.  The woods are different place when they're like this, full of secret places and magical spaces. Love it.

Camel Green morning

Loving these earlier morning walks we've been doing to exercise Geoff, though avoid him getting to hot. The woodland at this time of day is already so alive, crackling with the anticipation of a new day. Sets your day nicely.

Highland Water

To my mind, the stretch of Highland Water which runs through Great Huntley Bank, Brinken Wood and Camel Green represents some of the best stream walking in the forest. This section of forest stream is about a mile and a half long, a mix of high cut banks where the Kingfisher can be seen fishing and low bank floodplain where the deer and ponies graze, along the banks gnarly exposed roots keep a tight grip as the trees come down to drink, sometimes they're careless and topple across the stream, and throughout, frequent gravel beaches appear and disappear as the flow  decrees.  It feels wonderfully natural as it meanders wildly through a geography partly of its own creation. And, although much of the Camel Green section was restored in recent years, it too feels natural. I suppose that's because it has been restored to it's natural course. Highland water has run through the landscape for,....I don't know how many years, for ever (relatively of course)?  Throughout the streams environs are the meander scars and withered oxbows created over the centuries of subtle course change which have shaped this river corridor. It's a lovely bit of stream, especially in the dappled light of the stands. That's what really sets it off, the predominantly deciduous ancient woodland through which Highland Water runs, open woodland with occasional clearings created by tree falls, mostly of oak and beech, although with diverse shrub and ground flora communities.  It's a rich environment, perfect for immersive walking. Love it.

Poppy

Currently, bright red swathes of poppy flowers are common in the fields.

Badbury orchids

It wasn't just a wonderful sunrise which was on show at Badbury Rings this morning, the ramparts were thronged with orchids. Man, there were just so many of them, it was a wonder. Not just in numbers either, on the cursory observations of an untrained eye, I saw five different types. From top down: Common spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii), Butterfly Orchid (Platanthera chlorantha), Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera), Common Twayblade Orchid (Neottia ovata), Pyramidal Orchid (Anacamptis pyramidalis). How bloody marvellous is that!  Proportionally the Common Spotted was indeed the most common, then a ways off was the Pyramidal, then way way down in numbers was the Butterfly, with only a handful of Bee and Twayblade; as I said though, I only made a cursory observation, being blown away by the spectacle of it all.

Badbury solstice

I'd pondered over the last few days as to where to watch the sunrise this summer solstice. I wanted to take Geoff for his first sunrise, and I fancied going for a dawn walk too; so didn't fancy the palaver of a site with lots of people where Geoff would certainly get too excited, nor any site that may restrict exploration or necessitate driving too far. Badbury Rings came to mind as the perfect choice, in a perfect wandering landscape, and that it was.  The sky was lightening quickly as we made our way up a drove towards the deep ditches and huge ramparts of Badbury's Iron Age defences, as we were serenaded all the way by an very vocal pre-dawn chorus. Geoff was loving the early morning country smells, I knew he would. Just being out here this early in the morning, the day yet properly birthed, is a magical experience in itself, prompting that perennial thought 'I should do this more often'.  Of course, the chances are the next time I'll be up this early and thinking this thought wont be until lughnasadh. Still, the intentions there. Reaching the ramparts I could see a scattering of like minded folk had already taken their positions, we exchanged solstice blessings as we passed, before finding a suitable spot and waiting in meditative peace for Bel. Mists hanging in the pre-dawn Allen Valley only added to the magic of the moment, as slowly an orange hue developed on the horizon, then on cue Bel showed his face. It was beautiful, man, a perfect sunrise, and I felt my spirit lift; if there's one thing we all need, it's to have our spirits lifted and our life affirmed more often.  It's quite a thing to see the sun come up, you don't imagine it would rise so quickly, though it really does. Before long the hillfort and its surrounding landscape were bathed in glorious golden sun light, the longest day was here, and it shone brightly, casting long shadows through the hillfort's tree filled interior. Walking around the rings we enjoyed a continuous panorama over the patchwork landscape of rural Dorset, with the Chase to the north and the Purbeck coast to the South, and it all shimmered with life. Our world is a wonder. Solstice blessing y'all beautiful people.

Sunset up Gus

I've neglected the sunsets of late, too busy languishing in a treacly malaise or running in my hamster wheel shaking my fist and grumbling at the world. A situation that required rectifying. The sky looked like it had potential this evening, so off I rode towards Gus (by coincidence, another uncomfortable, eyes always upon you type of place like the Common). Unfortunately the sky didn't develop as I thought it might, wrong spacial proportions, all the right pieces in play, they just didn't meld.  That said, it was a pleasant sundown, some lovely colours,  and still worthwhile getting out for, after all, every sunset is unique.   

June's Moon

I said the common was a magical place, and it is, although it's also a very eerie strange place too, and I understand that's a commonly held feeling by people who've walk here. I walk a lot and only a handful of places fill me with the uncomfortable feelings that the common can. It often has an subtle air of foreboding about it, hidden away in the background, just out of sight. There's the feeling of eyes always upon you, and the frequent need to look behind you is overwhelming, unlike anywhere I've ever been. Most people who know the common would say the same.  Weird, it's ostensibly a lovely tract of common land, that's well trodden and much loved, though there's always something that stimulates your alertness, often taking you to the edge of flight or fight it can manifest so intensely. So with that in mind, you can imagine what the common feels like at night, yup, it's a proper scary place. That's where I went tonight to take another poor full moon photo, and it was proper scary. June's full Moon.

A sense of place

I've mentioned before how lucky I feel living where we do, blessed to be next to the New Forest, an hour west to the Jurassic Coast and an hour north to Cranborne Chase, all enchanted and magical landscapes. Though last weeks OBOD 'Tea with a Druid no77' on the magic of local places reminded me of how blessed I am with what's on my doorstep in the shape of 'The Common', a local expanse of common land. Well, not just the common itself, although that is the largest tract, but all the smaller pockets of woodland scattered throughout the neighbourhood, which allow us, if we're canny, to move about through a semi rural landscape doing our regular tasks. Always with one foot in and an eye on the nature world. The common is a fascinating tract of land, with an incredible diversity in form and habitats, coniferous woodland, deciduous woodland, heathland and grassland are all represented as are virtually all the trees, and a huge range of flora and fauna too. You can see old boundary ditches crossing it indicating past domestications, though improved land now long neglected. There's plenty of history you can't see too, I've learned that from local elders, of what it was like 70-80 years ago when Highcliffe was still 'The Village', of troops billeted here just before D-Day, of post war prefabs and an baseball field left by the soldiers, of picking shrapnel from a German bomb out of an old oak in the 50's, or of the fondly remembered play park of the 60's-70's now long gone. Those stories are the history of the common land, told by the common people, too often overlooked in history. All those things now disappeared under nature's recolonization. We walk here most days, to some extent or another, I see the seasons change in the common's face, over the last 20 years I've seen the common change too, more trees, less heathland and grassland. I'm not complaining we need more trees. And as you can imagine, it's a packed store of natural resources; a wide range of seasonally available resources which I frequently avail myself of. It's really quite wondrous place, natures magic right on my doorstep. 

Fuligo septica

 

 Yellow Slime Mould (Fuligo septica)

Wet summer woods

Were there such a thing as a 'greenometer', it would surely explode if turned on in the forest at the moment. The rains have the streams up, seasonal channels flowing and the ground sodden, they've brought a unusual green glow to the stands too, there's an iridescent verdancy saturating everything. It's like spring on steroids rather than summer, though the flora tells you it is in fact summer. It's an otherworldly woodland at the moment, Elfin-esque, an unreal seasonal mix, and quite magical for it. The forest drinks deeply...its been a long time coming. 

Sunken Sentinel

Sunken Sentinel on a stormy shore.