Stag Brake

 

Mists filled the wet heath hollow in which Stag brake sits this morning.

Red Rise

Sun beams through Red Rise

Thinning stands

Forestry work continues at a pace around the forest, and the results of timber thinning is evident on the sides of the tracks, with the sweet fragrant smell of freshly sawn conifer filling the air. The scale of extraction is something, as is the change in aspect. You'd seen the marked trees walking past for months, but it was hard to visualize it done. I had a chat with the guys doing the thinning, a son, with his father who'd started as a boy with his father, a family of lumberjacks, cool. If you can, take the time to chat with folk, everyone has something to say, and there's always something for you to learn.

Spy Holms Barrow

 

The forest is peppered with prehistoric Bronze Age barrows, 200 or so, cremation depositories for the elite class of the communities that shaped the open heath of the forest we see today. Many have been badly degraded by time, the elements and subsequent activities of man and beast, their height slighted, now their ditched filled; once though they'd have stood proud, socially important markers in the prehistoric landscape.

Shepherds warning

 

A Shepherds' Warning greeted as we left home this morning. Even with all the modern technology at our disposal and the best of intention, for the most part and for now at least, you can still rely on the tried and tested lore to give you a better forecast than the weather forecast.

Spread thin

 

If we thought that Last weeks' flush of Ceps (boletus edulis) marked the burgeoning of the mushroom season we were way off. Since the little haul I recently collected, they've been scarce, to say the least. This mauled fellow is the only Cep I've spotted since; and I've been looking. So it's back to the default position, a waiting game with no guarantee of success. A game influenced by factors understood and factors beyond our understanding or most likely a combination of both.  Even with the requisite skills we're in the hands of the fates and nature when out foraging.

Psilocybe season

 

Magic mushrooms or Liberty Caps (Psilocybe semilanceata)

Fruitless

Less than a week ago we celebrated second harvest, the fruit harvest, though out in the forest that harvest has been poor. On my roams, at least anyway. Usually at this time of year the fruiting shrubs are well served with fruit. Not this year though. With hardly a Sloe to be seen, naked Hawthorns as the norm, unripe Blackberries and a Crab Apple tree still holding its' fruit a rare sight, the forest is a disappointment for forager and wildlife alike.

Apsey Bridge

 

It's boots off and wade then.

Ober Water

Ober Water is beyond it's banks again. It never took much, although as with other forest streams, since they've restored the stream below Markway Bridge it's escaped it's banks with more frequency and with greater ease, flooding the shallow valley through which it flows. When the forest gets like this I try and imagine what it must of been like traversing the forest in the past. What a forbidding landscape it must have been at times.

Mane attraction

With a mane whose colours mirrored that of the foals' autumnal surroundings, surely the winner of this seasons coolest coloured mane goes to this beauty. That said, this years' foals have been a particularly handsome cohort all round.

Detritus deposited

 

Although returned to the confines of it's banks this morning, the hefty lump of tree deposited on the path across Ober Water between Ferny Knap and Clumber suggests that the stream had escaped its' confines significantly overnight. These quiet looking forest streams can quickly turn into torrents after a heavy rain.

Autumn equinox

Blessing at Second harvest, Mabon, Autumn Equinox, Alban Elfed. The fruit harvest. What ever you may call it, my hope's the same, that the seeds you planted back in spring flourished, and that you're currently gathering in a bountiful harvest. Is it just me, or is the wheel turning at an alarming speed. /|\

Noice!

I've spotted the odd Cep (beletus edulis) on our recent roams, for the most part nibbled or gone over. Though this morning was my first opportunity to gather some, a tidy little haul, enough for a handful of breakfasts, and from exactly the sites I'd expect. As with all the resources you gather out, there are those spots that you'll check first in a season, and with good reason too, they almost always deliver.

A venerable Oak

 

If you know where to find them, the New Forest is brimming with majestic ancient trees. Like this venerable Oak, one of several clustered in Undersley Wood; a parcel of old forest, never enclosed, and still retaining some of the character of the forest that was.

Autumn tints

Autumn continues to sweep the forest.

Highland Water

 

Highland Water

Misty veiw from Picket Post

The veiw southwest from Picket Post; down through Foulford Bottom, out across the Avon Valley, with the Isle of Purbeck faintly visible on the horizon. Lovely.

Graffiti

As much as I enjoy the big statement art graffiti pieces like those on the water tanks atop St Catherines' Hill, I do have a fondness for classic subway style graffiti. There's some nice pieces in a traditional style through the Picket Post underpass, I like the forms and colour employed, it's a shame they've got dirty so quickly. Dated '24 it must be fairly recently too, as we were only walking this way back in spring.

Acorns

 

Surveying the oaks about our roams, I'd say it's been a pretty poor year for acorns. A significant number of oaks have no visible fruits, whilst most of the others have a mix of low yield fruit or diseased fruit. If what I've seen on our walks is representative of the forests' stands as a whole, it's going to be a thin pannage for the oinkers. I've not noticed the quality and quantity of beech mast this autumn, though I think I'd have noticed if it were good.

Phragmites Reed

 

Since the restoration of the forest streams, and the subsequent natural re-wilding of the bogs and mires which feed them, Phragmites Reed or Common Reed (phragmites australis) is fast becoming re-established in wetter spots. This has been particularly noticeable over the last couple of years. The higher levels of water retention is to their liking. I like it, they remind me of reconstruction illustrations of Mesolithic and Neolithic landscapes and hunting scenes.

Mosaic puffball

The forests' fungi realm is stirring, and with fresh rain comes fresh growth. On Spy Holms Mosaic Puffballs (Lycoperdon utriforme) are popping up all over, the sandy soils and rough grass are ideal for them.

The Christmas nut.

 

Why is Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa) the Christmas nut? You always see them roasting in snowy scenes in Christmas films and seasonal adverts, they've become synonymous with the festival in the public's eyes. Although in my experience they ripen and fall long before Christmas, and I've found them difficult to store (of course that could be me). Anyhoos, a good number of the forests' sweet chestnut trees are well laden with small fruits. Last year I predicted a poor harvest at this point of the cycle, the fruits were small then too, and I was wrong, at worst the harvest was patchy. I'm fast coming to the conclusion that speculation on such matters is futile anyway, too many known and unknown variables, our natural plant lore is becoming redundant in our changing world.

Autumn morn

 A radiant autumnal morning. What difference a day makes.

Markway

 

Even though it was a muted morning the restored heath of the former Markway enclosure put on a wonderful show of colours. I remember when this was all trees. No really. Up until a few years ago this was a 114 hectares of Scots Pine (Pinus sylvestris) and Corsican Pine (Pinus nigra). Created as recently as 1960 it's been all but cleared and returned to open heathland, with the remaining coniferous stands due to be cleared by 2026. Already though sapling Birch (Betula pendula) and Scots Pine are tentitivly colonising, unchecked there'll be stands here in no time.

Misty morning

 

The forest has many faces.

Speckled Jim

 

There's a certain region of the forest where I find a lot of 'Old Speckled Hen' cans. I'm going to suggests that they're being deposited by the same individual, the modus operandi appears consistent, similarly crushed, usually deposited at the base of or wedged in a tree; an individual I'm going to call 'Speckled Jim', after the beer and Melchettes' boyhood pigeon from Black Adder; pigeons are usually referred to as filthy aren’t they? Jim's a filthy man-pigeon.

Oysters

 

As if they've just been waiting to burst out with the first signs of significant rain, which of course they have, young Oyster Mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus) explode in to life. Fungus is crazy Shit, man, older than the hills, they've seen out epochs and the inhabitants there of, their mycelium networks stretching over miles as well as time, they're the grid into which our woodlands are intrinsically connected. I'm hoping for a grand mushroom season, the signs are looking good. Or are they? We've been tricked before, eh.

Close encounter

 

I don't advocate approaching the ponies normally, it's frowned upon anyway, too many people feeding them shit led them to develop negative and dangerous behaviours. Although if a pony approaches I feel it would be discourteous to recoil, it may be Epona herself, you don't know, so I welcome the opportunity. Two ponies stood looking down on us from the old platform of Holmsley Station as we passed, an adult male and a foal, both friendly and inquisitive. The foal was particularly interested in Geoff, coming down from the platform the pony got so close as to bump noses, which was all too much for Geoff.

Chuck

 

There's been a flush of Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus) about the forest of late, good sized fresh specimens too. Although within it's recognised season, it's not common for me to see so many handsome clumps at this time of year. We've been seeing them everywhere we've roamed. 

Stag Brake

 

Stag Brake

Fading glories

Throughout the forest heathers' reign is starting to fail, their rich lilac hues beginning to fade. They've put on a magnificent show this year, that's for sure.

Highland Water

They've been low, and their gravelly asses have occasionally been on show, but this year the forests streams have continued to flow throughout, which is becoming an increasingly rare event. So huzzah to that. I know we're on autumns cusp but you know summer's already left the room, it's felt like autumn to one degree or another throughout August, though now it's presence now is inescapable.

Autumn lady’s tresses

 

Autumn lady’s tresses (Spiranthes spiralis), the last of our native orchids to appear, are coming up all over Spy Holms at the moment. Quite the diminutive orchid they're easily overlooked if you're not paying attention, attractive though, comprising dainty little white flowers with greeny yellow bracts growing spirally around a single stem. They favour rough grassland and heath, though are more commonly found on calcareous soils they will tolerate lightly acidic soils, and Spy Holms usually puts on a good display of them.

Holmsley Bog palette

Out in the forest our Goddess the land shows off her developing palette for the autumn season.  And, it's looking rather lovely.

Young oaks

A stand of young oaks, one of many mosaic blocks which make up Rhinefield Sandy's enclosure. I do like this particular block. It's not big, though enjoys a very attractive and engaging aesthetic.

Fungi

 

A little reminder of the potential seasonal bounty to come, a young Beefsteak fungus (Fistulina hepatica) errupts from a ancient beech trunk. Soon throughout the stands and amongst the woodland fringes the fungi realm will reign. It's a fascinating world, and one we've yet to fully understand, though we know enough to know they're essential to the whole damn thing. Plenty are edible too, several classified as edible good, though just as many are not, and if you're not 110% certain, leave well alone, some mushrooms are fatal. And as for Beefsteak fungus? Well, it's an edible, and I've eaten it on a couple of occassions in the past and will pass on eating it again in the future; bitter, rubbery, weird, would all be appropriate adjectives to employ. It looks a wrongun too.

Rowan berries and the moon

 

Rowan berries and the moon

Wild Stallions

 

Two stallion foals playing, one clearly trying to dominate the other; already hierarchies are being established or at least the process learnt. Although she often looks lost in chaotic abandon, mother nature is highly structured and hierarchical; a time, a place and a season ascribed to every species of flora and fauna, and to every activity. The wheel turns with purpose. The natural world is the epitome of order.

Bugger

Bugger. It looks as if the forestry are clearing the collect which runs under Burley Rocks on the edge of Mill Lawn, and they've either moved the bridge in the process, or have removed it with the aim of renewing it; it does look a bit worse for wear. Either way, discovering it missing required we change our course.