Hedgies

The first Hedgehog mushrooms (Hydnum repandum) I've seen this season. Perfect examples too. Hedgehogs are distinct in having spines instead of gills or pores, they along with the mushrooms recognizable flesh/salmon pink cap make them easy to identify. Hence they're considered a safe mushroom for the novice forager. Still, always be 100% sure.

Where have all the good times gone?

I find myself asking the same question as the Kinks, Where have all the good times gone? It's been Halloween, we had the pumpkins lit, a cauldron of sweets, and not one knock at the door, not one trick or treater. I know it's an American affectation, but it's absence is symptomatic of a broader cultural malaise. I can't remember the last time I saw a Penny for the Guy or heard the cozy voices of carol singers at the door. I'm too old to have practised trick or treat, but remember Halloween parties of stories and games, apple bobbing in buckets of cold water and eating doughnuts hung on strings. We built Guys to finance fireworks, and I always really enjoyed carol singing, as well as being grateful for the cash at Christmas. I loved these times as a kid. I looked forward to them, they were part of the calendar. On that same tip. I've seen no sign of summer camps, dens or dirt jumps over the common for years now. Every year apples go to waste, left unpicked on local trees. And, I only saw two people collecting blackberries this summer. Can you believe that? It was a bumper season too. A handful of examples of collective cultural activities lost in the atomization of a hyperindividual society. Or merely changing times and the fickleness of fashion. Either ither I find it sad.

Samhain

Do you feel this year has gone quick? I do. Samhain is upon us, and with it last harvest. Has your harvest been what you'd hoped? I hope it has. Jobs done and winter nearly here, now is the time for rest, reflection and introspection, then an opportunity to consider and plan for the return of the sun at winter solstice, and a new turn of the wheel. Samhain blessings /|\

Muted morning

A muted misty morning in what remains of Markway enclosure. Created in 1960 Markway was a short lived enclosure, today nearly all the Scots Pine (Pinus sylvestris) and Corsican Pine (Pinus nigra) planted then are gone, though a thin border of blocks like these juvenile Beech (Fagus sylvatica) remain. 

View from Rock Hills

 

The view from Rock Hills, looking towards Stag Brake and Red Rise beyond. In my opinion, one of the nicest vistas to be found in a forest spoilt for nice vistas. I never tire of it.

Creek Bottom

 

The wet areas of the forest are becoming wetter by the day, it was subtle at first, though it's now picking up speed, with the spongy hollows soaking up the rains, their boggy pools are renewed, and winterbournes flow again.

Rising waters

 

Change is slowly afoot around the forest. Underfoot the ground is starting to soften, standing water is becoming commonplace, and the winter born drains and rivulets are flowing well, consequently the streams are rising too, their numerous gravel crossing spots are all but gone. It's that time of year when you need to consider your routes, the forests' streams come into their own in the wet season, becoming formidable obstacles.

Parasols

The forest is a strange world at the moment, seasons collide and blend. It's been the weirdest of summer to autumn transitions, with nature appearing at odds with itself as to how to manifest. I've mentioned previously the late flush of mushrooms, and that continues with the arrival of Parasol Mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera), October is beyond their usual fruiting window, yet here they are, and growing in number daily.

Sunrise

 

Early walk over Wilverely Plain

 

Ready for drying

 

Up until a couple of years ago I'd traditionally dried mushrooms in the airing cupboard. This year I thought I'd try oven drying some, and have been very happy with the results. Simple too, cut the shrooms 5 or 6mm thick, lay them out on baking sheets, place in a 120 degree oven with the door 30mm open (in order to let steam out), check regularly over a few hours, and ta dah! The proof though will be in the eating, so time will tell.

End of the rainbow

 

End of the rainbow

I say!

I say! Spotted a couple of these chaps out on our roam this morning. I'd imagined after such an arid summer and autumn Psilocybe semilanceata would be no shows this season. The spots you'd usually associate them with do remain stubbornly bare, and these were somewhere I'd not normally expect to see them.

Morning along Avon Water

 

Morning along Avon Water.

Nice

 

After our long dry summer followed by an autumn drought, I'd wondered whether we'd have any mushroom season at all this year. The ground was, and remains, so hard that I thought we'd have needed sustained rain to have any chance. I've been pleasantly surprised by how responsive the mycelium has been to he light rains we've received so far.

Fly Agaric

Fly Agarics (Amanita muscaria) are popping up amongst the birch stands of the forest. Easy to spot from a distance through its' unmistakable post box red cap sprinkled with white crusty scales. Undoubtedly the most recognizable mushroom in the woods, it's synonymous with fairy tales, and a symbol of winter, magic, Santa and the All Father. If you asked anyone to draw a mushroom, there's a good chance it would be a likeness of a Fly Agaric.

Oh hurrah

Oh hurrah and hussar! When I went down to the woods today I was in for a pleasant surprise. The rains have worked their magic awakening the mycelium prompting them to burst forth their fruits. It's as is they know they're late and that the opportunity to fruit maybe limited, subsequently they're determined to push out as many fruiting bodies as they can. They're not out all over, but where they are out, they're out out, there are over 30 in the top photo alone. Amazing.

Notable Oak

 

I've always loved this notable oak at the edge of Old Sloden. My photo doesn’t really do it justice. It enjoys a wonderfully wild and twisted form, all flailing limbs, an antidote to the uniformity of many of the forests' trees.

Rainbow flying high

It's feeling more like autumn every day.

 

All change

Stacked timber continues to crowd the edge of many of the forestry tracks as the radical transformation of Dames Slough rolls on.  The extend of the clearance and restoration is massive, it's all change as the coniferous stands are removed bringing an older, more open landscape back to life.

Maybe

I understand that one Cep (Boletus edulis) does not make a season, or even the guarantee of one, but still, hope is kindled. Even at this late stage, come on.

Frogger

We associate them with ponds and wetlands, though it's just as common to find a Frog (Rana temporaria) amongst a woodland stand, a stack of old wood or in the corner of a field. We've seen a couple of them on the move in recent days, no doubt about preparing to over winter in some hidden damp spot.

Red Rise Brook

 

Red Rise Brook

 

Indian summer?

 

We're enjoying a lovely autumn out here in the forest, it's glorious, the light, the colours and all, maybe an Indian Summer in the making. Though I find myself conflicted. I know these conditions aren't right, it shouldn't be like this, too dry, too warm, but I also remember what being cold and wet feels like, and I'm in no hurry to be reacquainted with them.

Studand

 

May through September dogs are required to remain on their leads throughout the Studland and Godlingston national nature reserve. So this morning was our first walk here since April, and it was lovely to be back. So much change. The beach and dunes are quite a fluid environment always in flux and some cliff collapse at Redend Point were natures contribution to change, though it was the hand of man which was most noticeable. Middle Beach has been transformed, the stone filled gabbions are gone, as is the slipway, and all signs of the former parking area and café, the road down now truncated just hangs there. The only reminder that there was ever anything here are the line of slighted World War Two anti-tank obstacles in the intertidal. One thing that hasn't changed is the Type 25 pillbox on the beach below Redend Point, testament to 1940's engineering maybe, even though undertaken in a hurry and under duress. I remember the pillbox being half way up the cliff in the late 1970's, and I imagine it was once stood on the top of the head close to the nearby Fort Henry.  

Sweet Chestnuts

 

We're entering peak chestnut harvesting period and the Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa) casings I'm seeing about the forest are still a bit on the small side, which doesn’t bode well for the chestnut harvest this year.

Mill Lawn morning

A proper autumnal morning greets October at Mill Lawn.

 

Juniper

 

I didn't know just how rare this Juniper Tree (Juniperus communis) was. To me it was rare as it's one of only two I know, turns out it's one of only two Juniper in the entire forest, and at over 400 years old by far the oldest, an ancient tree. I came across an article from 2001 when curators from Kew had visited in order to take cuttings and collect seeds to preserve its' genetics, and propagate new trees to repopulate the forests' community. The piece included a photo of the tree, it's obvious the tree has declined, but the photo really drew in to focus how much. I'd noticed, but not, if you know what I mean.

Dames Slough

 

There's been extensive clearing and restoration across Dames Slough, you wouldn't believe that this time last year all this was densely planted conifer, they've done a really good of the clearing and restoring too. I look forward to seeing these new (old) landscapes develop.

Missing mushrooms

One consequence of our continuing dry spell is a massive reduction in the number of mushrooms about, both volume and species. Yeah, you'll see some about, but they're few and far between, and more importantly for the most part they're not the mushrooms you're looking for. If we don't have some sustained rain soon, the mushroom season will be over before it starts.

 

Drought endures

 

I don't get exercised by climate change any more, that's not because I don't accept anthropomorphic climate change, or at least our contribution, more that it's so outside of my control that I have no choice but to relegate it in the pursuit of sanity. I do what I can, what's within my remit. Still, I can't help but feel concerned seeing the forest this dry at the end of September. Isn't right, man.

The pigs are out!

The pigs were out to Pannage at Mill Lawn this morning. Pannage is the ancient tradition of allowing the commoners pigs to range the forest searching for nuts, which in excess can be poisonous to the forests' horses and cattle. The season began earlier in September and will run until the end of November. This drift were very friendly, approaching determined to give us a thorough once over, upon realizing we had/were nothing of interest they made off. Take care though, some pigs can be a touch feisty, chasey even, they've had me running on more than one occasion.

Archdruid Rollo

Stalwart of Druidism, Archdruid of Stonehenge Rollo Maughfling presides over this mornings Equinox ceremony; he presided over the first druid ceremony I attended way back in 1988. Nice chap. 

Autumn Equinox Stonehemge

It's only when you escape the light pollution of suburbia that you're reminded just how beautiful a clear night sky can be. Over Salisbury Plain the night sky was black as tar, the universe spread out across it, countless stars shining radiantly. On the cusp of change a bright shooting star streaks across Fargo Wood, and as I approached the stones so did dawn. While the sun had begun its' transit in the east, clouds neared from the west, the combination creating a spectacular backdrop of colour and texture for those assembled at Stonehenge for the Equinox. Amongst the stones druids performed their rites, while others perform rhythmic drumming or chanting, others simply sit or stand in contemplation, waiting; eventually the sun does appear, greeted by collective whoops and cheers. It had been too long since I'd seen in a Solstice or Equinox at Stonehenge, and amongst the stones it really felt like coming home. Altogether a perfect Equinox morning. Equinox Blessings /|\

Martin Down and more

Dry and then some. Martin Down and the surrounding predominantly arable and grassland landscape has the appearance of our own domestic savannah. Cranborne is currently rocking a palette which heavily leans brown. Todays' walk was to reconnect with an area I used to roam frequently, though had not walked in some years. Maybe ten years. It's a glorious landscape, marked all over by six millennia of human activity, Mesolithic hunter gathers first roamed this downland, though they left scant evidence of their presence beyond flint tools, those who came after on the other hand were more giving, sculpting the land into barrows, banks, hillforts and dykes spanning prehistory; Roman roads and villas speak of one phase of colonization; centuries of Medieval farming and hunting have maked the land too, speaking of peasantry and privilege, in many respects an England still recognizable today; more recently the 20th century saw industrialized farming and military activity adding their mark. This is a landscape clearly favoured and well used by our ancestors, still used today. Standing on Penbury Knoll (listed as an early prehistoric hillfort, though I'm not so sure) I surveyed this world in awe. Walking here is walking in the footsteps of our forebears, and you feel it. It was surprising how little the old routes we'd take had changed over a decade, Norris and I knew this place well. A stunning landscape, even in it's current desiccated state a lovely walk.

Lughnasadh

 

First harvest, and the cereal fields are now empty bar stubble, John Barleycorn has been and gone. With Lughnasadh upon us the wheel appears to turn ever faster; or is that just me? Celebrate the harvest, soak it all in, it's been a hell of a summer, soon enough our attention will be drawn to Autumns' approach, already some mornings you can feel its' tendrils reaching out. The wheel keeps on turning. Lughnasadh blessings /|\

Ober Water

 

Ober Water

 

Foxy

 

Forestry works through Rhinefield Sandys' have seen tranches of forest exposed to the sky for the first time in years. Nature doesn't miss opportunities. This one wide strip has been nearly exclusively colonised by Foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea), and to beautiful affect.

Corfe Castle

Corfe Castle is currently in the middle of a 3 year site clearance, restoration and stabilization program, the aim, to ensure this important site is protected and preserved for future generations. It's impressive passing below its ruinous form today, you can only imagine its impact when at the height of its glory, the keep tower painted white on the order of Henry III it stood high above its' surroundings. 

Approaching Corfe

Following the chalk track down the side of Challow Hill you approach the village of Corfe and the ruins of it's magnificent 11th century Norman castle;  once one of the countrys' strongest, and definitely most picturesque castles, now it's the most picturesque ruins.  Surviving sieges through the ages Corfe wasn't brought low by battle, but rather through betrayal, and was subsequently demolished so it could never stand again. Hell of a castle, with a rich history.

Mexican Fleabane

 

There's beauty in simplicity. Mexican Fleabane (Erigeron karvinskianus) only arrived on these shores in late 19th century though quickly naturalised, especially in coastal regions. It maybe a new arrival but it's already become part of to the family to the extent of having plenty of localized names like Miss Jekyll's Daisies or Falmouth Daisy, many seaside towns having their own name. I love them, so bright, so colourful and such a long flowering season too, the insects love them as well.