Dam, that water's powerful!

The moist theme that's been developing over the past few weeks continues to blanket the forest in a wet, swishy, often slippery, layer. The sun though, puts another light on things. During our walk we, again, followed the course of Highland water between Milliford Bridge towards Roman Bridge, again passing the truncated meander mentioned on Saturday. Since then there has been plenty more rain and the brook has swelled further; increasing in volume, ferocity and the desire to move itself forwards and onwards. No longer satisfied with its newly made course it's sent small fingers of water out to find new ways to circumnavigate the dam which is blocking it's path. These skirmishes between the elements are occurring all over the forest; trees falling to the winds, fallen trees blocking brooks and streams, waters scouring the earth in search of a new passage. Mutability is the seasonal game of choice.

That's got to smart!

Do you think the horse knows the tree has fallen on her. As we passed she remained perfectly still, as if thinking....they can't see me, they can't see me. :o)

Rest in peace Robert Holdstock

I am very sad to hear that Robert Holdstock died this morning. Robert Holdstock was a giant of British fantasy writing, who had a unique insight in to mythology and landscape of our land. I am only familiar with his 'Mythago Cycle' of books; after reading the first of these 'Mythago Wood' the woods appeared changed or maybe I merely accessed them and experienced them differently; I certainly saw and heard them differently. The books of the 'Mythago Cycle' are master pieces of the genre and master pieces of the written word. He has written many many other fine novels and stories; all of these will continue to amaze and enthral people. A fine legacy.

Our sympathies are with his family and friends, he will be greatly missed.

Water we going to do now?

The heavy rains, prevalent over the last few days, continue to inundate the low parts of the forest; the ground there is beyond saturation point and even higher ground is becoming wet and spongy under foot. Brooks and creeks having risen further, regularly scoure thin poor soils to expose the gravel sub soils. A few years ago they began the process of returning some of the brooks and streams to their pre Victorian (straightened)courses in order to reduce drainage and re establish 'Bog Woodland'; they're certainly succeeding. The brook side woodland looks akin to the Everglades with trees pooping up through areas of standing and running water; the course of the brook hard to define (in the picture the river is running 10m or so to the left edge of frame). The paths I'd been using for months have disappeared and new routes need identifying; all ad hock crossing points are gone, only the 2 small foot bridges provide access to the other banks. This is a natural and in no way a bad thing, as you're encouraged to find alternative paths and in the process see the land a new. It's incredible how different a walk can look merely by altering your course by a few meters. Trees you'd seen a hundred times take on a wholly new appearance with new shapes and forms; new vistas open up stunningly new views of what was thought familiar. You see things in places you've you'd not seen before. Top buzz.

Dam, the stream's a changin!

It's amazing how quickly the rivers, streams and brooks remould themselves after rain; their courses, forms and natures really are as fluid as the liquid that flows along them. The frequent and heavy rain we've experienced lately, after the overcast although dry summer, has swelled the streams sweeping over the land adjoining the watercourses scouring and sweeping any loose woodland detritus that had accumulated since last winter. This detritus, large and small, has assembled amongst the overhanging branches of bank side trees and shrubs or wedged betwixt fallen trees (having fallen across a waterway)forming dams, some quiet considerable. Following the meandering course of Highland water between Milliford Bridge and Roman Bridge, I could hear it long before I could see it, the sound of rushing, bubbling water filled the woods; a dam, so substantial it had caused the water to pursue a different course. This change of course is creating an oxbow lake, helped by a further effective dam at the other end of the meander. The water being forced to conform to this new route gushes over a quickly eroding waterfall cutting backwards up stream; next to it a large Oak , taken by suprise, has succumbed to the erosion caused by these changes and has fallen. This place will be in flux for some time and I shall visit again periodically to witness the transformation.

Eucalyptus!

Eucalyptus, here in the forest? Well, yes, we visited one of those special woodland places; special because of its uniqueness. Nearby once stood Holm Hill Cottage, long gone but for a few bricks; all around in what must have been a once well kept garden are exotic non indigenous plants, evil rhododendrons and such like. Then your eyes are drawn to a stand of exotic trees, smooth greyish bark, tall and straight with crowns of waxy looking light green leaves; a stand of mature eucalyptus. Who'd have thought it? As you walked between them you became aware of an unusual odour caused by us trampling the fallen leaves and bark strips which hung from the trunks and branches, subtle like soft cloves but sweet and clean smelling. Between some of these fabulous trees small saplings were growing with leaves at an accessible height; we picked some and crushed them, they let off a stronger smell, pungent, harder to identify the subtle stands that made it up. Lovely piece of forest, must have been something living here.

Berries

The forest was sunny and wet, with the trees, on the whole, all nearly bare the woods have taken on new appearance; depth of view now rules. All is much quieter now. Where the trees/shrubs/plants are now naked, their remaining fruits are clear to see. It must have been a good year for fruits as there are still loads left on the plants; rose hips, sloes and haws remain in abundance. All of these have uses and are edible; I made some sloe vodka last year and previously rose hip wine, both nice. I've not used haws. Of course the naked plants aren't the only ones to shine out, the prickly evergreen holly too retains a profusion of bright red berries. They say that a good crop of nuts and berries is an indication of a hard winter to come, well, we've had a bounty of both, so here's hoping for cold winter.

Oi! Oi!

Kasabian and Reverend and the Makers, BIC Bournemouth

Didn't get to see Reverend and the Makers, but wasn't too bothered. Kasabian though, I was looking forward to. Kasabian built the crowd up with two 60 second countdowns that came to nothing before storming the stage and unleashing the rich rock sound they're known for. Their set was long, well thought out and strong, with anthemic tunes to raise the audience and make them part of the show. The stage was framed with an interactive frame which appeared as picture frames, static or lights, whilst periodically projecting messages; the light show was great as were the screens on either side of the stage and behind the band showing the band performing and other images. The band finished with a spectacular show of lights, confetti and a giant ball roaming over the audience; reminded me of the Flaming Lips, great stuff. The crowd were a strange mix, mainly shaven headed thug looking types giving the impression a group of skinheads or football hooligans; although when in the hall the atmosphere was good natured other than the people throwing pints of beer over the audience. I'd read on a variety of forums that the band's performances were fantastic, although there were too often too many 'tools' in their audiences; a sound observation. So, I'd recommend seeing Kasabian live and unfortunately agree about the crowd; still didn't detract from a top shelf show.

Sonic Attack

The Leveller and Sonic Boom Six, O2 Academy, Boscombe

It's not the academy as I knew it; the new O2 academy has no feeling and no Central staircase, it's got horrible light and décor, over the top security and most importantly no soul. That said, we weren't there for the décor, although removing the staircase was a huge mistake, we were there to see bands...The Leveller supported by Sonic Boom Six and neither disappointed.

Sonic Boom Six are a young 5 piece from Manchester (I'd missed them at Beautiful Days), Loud, brash and bassy, smiling widely they delivered a mix of rock and ska at a blistering place. An excellent dance band and no mistake.

After a short change over on stage, the lights dimmed and the stage filled with dry ice, then one at a time the members of the Levellers appeared, to rapturous applause from the spectators. From the start the Levellers let forth with some of their harder jumping up and down tracks and the crowd replied by jumping about in frenzied joy. Old favourites like, Dirty Davy, Carry me, Liberty and Battle of the Beanfeild ensured the crowd was kept happy, hot and sweaty but happy. There was respite with some mellower more folky orientated tracks before they rocked off again, culminating in 3 or 4 tracks of furious dancing, if you can call being buffeted around whilst jumping about dancing. The band returned to the stage for a powerful encore including One way and Riverflow, then just as it started the gig finished to rapturous applause. An all round good show, filled with favourites, performed well by a band who remain true to their beliefs.

Made me think, I must get my ticket Beautiful Days sooner rather than later ;o)

Tree goggles

What's through the oddly shaped windows? It looks like I'm peering through a Hobbits windows out on to the woods, in fact it's all that remains of the hulk of a formidable tree, hollowed by time and nature. Walking in the old enclosure I searched for some carved graffiti on ancient Beech's that I remember seeing, probably, some 20 years ago. What stuck with me at the time was the period from which this graffiti came, world war 2 and that both British and Americans were represented. The forest was extensively used by the military during both world wars; a small group of trenches, representing a section up to possibly a platoon, can be found on the edge of a plantation about 1km west and frequently vehicle tracks dating to the period can still be seen on some landscapes around the forest. 20 years has changed the face of many trees, some large leviathans (which I know had graffiti carved on them) had fallen and perished, while others had become covered in moss obscuring any detail. Growing despondent I finally found a tree with a hint of carving mostly hidden by moss.All that remained visible were two 4's, although after peeling a small section of moss back you could just make out 1944, 65 years old; as I remember, there was more information to this carving. I'm reluctant to peel off too much moss as I try to have as little impact on the woods as I can, but my investigative streak is strong, so who knows. Sites like this, and I've found many around the county, get me wondering, what happened to these people? Did they survive the war? What were they doing there in the woods? Who are/were they? Always I hope they survived the war years and went on to have long and happy life's; here's hoping they've out lived their graffiti :o)

White Horses

The sea was boiling today, all greys covered in white foam from the waves, fierce, forceful and determined to make shore. White horses galloped headlong to the shore, crashing on the roughly hewn limestone boulders that creating the front piece of the Canute like coastal defences; Canute like as all along the this stretch of coast you can see evidence foiled defences over run by both landslide and sea. Where no defences exist the sea scoured away at the clay faces of the fossil rich Barton bed landslides characteristic of this section of coast. You can't beat nature. The skies were clear other than an ominous bank of bark grey cloud that hugged and bubbled on the horizon. Above all this action the moon rose early and by 1600 was high in the clear winter blue sky. As I left the beach and darkness fell a lone surfer bobbed off the shore in the bubbling mass of sea, waiting for 'that' wave.......nutter :o)

Life's a beach

How stormy was it last night? Throughout the night, the wind blew, sending anything not nailed down or under a few kilos spinning off around the garden; and the rain, the rain belted down and the ratta tat tat on the lean too roof became deafening at times. This continued until midday when the weather suddenly broke for a short while leaving a bright afternoon, which encouraged me to leave the house for a walk along the beach. Strangely the sky was blue and clear of clouds (other than on the horizon), the wind although softer now still made itself known, the swiftness of this change was startling. The waves rode high up the beach, a beach now scoured of much of its sand revealing the pebbles below. Flocks of birds (what type I know not) played in the surf of the intertidal, whilst the flotsam and jetsam from the recent storms piled up just out of reach of the waves. Did you know that jetsam refers to something that has been voluntarily cast into the sea (jettisoned) traditionally in order to lighten a sea craft in an emergency; while flotsam describes items that have found their way in to the water without having been thrown in deliberately. Either way it all looks like crap to me.

This respite in the weather was short lived, for as quickly as it began an hour later the skies were leaden again and the rain returned as did the strong winds.

Blown on the moor

After spending a blustery night in the camper, pitched up in our stream side car park on the Mortenhampsted to Princetown road, we drove further on to Dartmoor stopping at Post Bridge from where our walk up to Sittaford Tor would begin. The sky was leaden and the rain, which had been merely missal when we woke, had intensified into something more substantial.

As we began along the track up on to the moor it intensified further. The ground already at saturation point wouldn't take any more rain, leaving the track wet and slippery with moisture coating the ground and frequently forming a filigree of moving water. We crossed small brooks running through gullies that led in to the valley through which the East Dart river ran. That was our route towards Sittaford Tor. We followed the contours of the valley for some distance, tracing the path of a disused leat, before descending to cross the river; only to find the river swollen and impossible to cross. After a while walking up stream we tried again, and again the river was swollen; this time though we persevered and getting wet in the process, we were across. We now climbed a steep hillside, by this time the weather had worsened, the wind increased and rain intensified further, now being delivered horizontally and with force by the lashing winds.

It was shortly after, considering the weather had deteriorated so rapidly and so badly, we decided to turn back, about 1500m from our goal. The decision was the right one. We took a different route back, this time avoiding any stream crossings. The weather by now had become intense, the rain lashed at you stinging your face while the winds buffeted you often stopping you temporarily in your tracks. The ground took on the qualities of a sponge, a sponge covered in running water. Walking became awkward, more of a determined stagger than a walk as the ground frequently gave way and you found yourself up to your ankles in mud and water. By now though we didn't care as water had permeated every layer. After about 40 Min's of this we neared our destination. The East Dart river had risen about 0.4m or so since we started back and in places the water running of the hills formed fleeting brooks feeding the river, helping it grow. These brooklets would disappear as quickly as they were created.

Soaked to the skin we now returned to the camper for a change of cloths and welcome cup of tea. By the time we began our journey home the river had risen again and all around running water was clearly visible; running down the hills, across the roads, everywhere. A top walk with good friends and being immersed in natures wilds and exposed to the elements, so extreme, was exhilarating and rewarding. A beautiful day.

Bing Bong

Gong & the Steve Hillage band, Exeter Lemon Grove

Exeter University I remember you well, well that's not quite true as they'd expanded the university considerably in the 11 years since I left. Arriving too early at the venue we were given a pre show treat by way of a loud and lengthy sound check...which was nice. The Steve Hillage band were first to perform, a real treat for a Hillage fan such as myself and something I didn't think I'd ever experience; after Hillage moved into top shelf dance with system 7. From the start you couldn't mistake that Hillage guitar sound, rich and off worldly, gliss to bliss with Miquette twiddling her knobs to perfect effect, while Mike Howlett expertly plucked the bass. It wasn't a long set but every note was pure gold combined with a good choice of tracks including favourites like the 'Salmon Song' making the set memorable.

After a short break the members of Gong, one by one, availed themselves of the stage. Hillage, back on board after leaving Gong in 1975, and other Gong members Gilli Smyth, Miquette Giraudy, Mike Howlett, Chris Taylor and Theo Travis trooped on stage building to the appearance on stage of Daevid Allen adorned in a pair of groovy pyjamas and the hat and trappings of a wizard. And so it began. The set well chosen, with both old and new track seamlessly joined in one long stream of Gong consciousness and the sound was note perfect; leading to smiles all round, on stage and off. Daevid had couple of costume changes climaxing in a strange white Elvis style suit decorated in Cd's and topped with what looked like a cross between a white curly quiff and a rooster crest morphing into a bizarre pixie hat. All the musicians played their parts perfectly creating a very memorable evening, Mike Howlett particularly rocked on bass.

We left the show with our Gong itch well and truly satisfied and made our way back to the camper, from where we proceeded towards Dartmoor and our home for the night. The roads are narrow and rarely straight, requiring constant concentration but finally we rose up on to the high moor, where as tradition would decree, it began to rain. Still, we were in a camper so no biggy. Parking up in a pull off next to small brook we chilled for a while with a couple of Jagers before retiring for the night.

Fecklessness

What is wrong with people? Where ever you walk in the forest you find litter, cans, bottles and all manner of human detritus. Some things have arrived in the forest brought on the winds, not purposely deposited; the birthday balloons, frequently found tangled in undergrowth. Others though, others are left by feckless morons operating in a way I can't comprehend. Much of the litter you come across, if not all, would have been heavier when carried into the forest, contents full, than when they're used and empty. So, then why are they left? Laziness? possibly. Stupidity? definitely. But above all ignorance. They obviously visit the forest out of choice, they must like it, but can't see anything wrong in leaving their litter after enjoying their visit.

The package from the well known fast food multinational could only have been purchased over 10 miles from it's current abode in the woods.

No, don't get it.

Epona

The horses are getting their winter coats, it's most noticeable on the younger ones. They look quite downy. As they lazily grazed bathed in autumn sun, millimg through the open woodland, I thought how peaceful and contented they always looked in their woodland world. Who wouldn't be, out there in the forest on a day like today; the horses though, have to endure the harshest of weathers too.

The stream had receded, revealing the frequently, and less frequently, used crossing places; and the water, the water is crystal clear. The stream flowed swiftly, racing and bubbling over the gravel clearly visible laying a couple of inches below; then through one of the deep pools commonly found in the woodland streams. Here the clear waters took on brown hue from the surrounding heathland peats that filtered the water; tangled logs, bits of branches and other detritus could just be made out in their depths.

The few high bores we've had so far this autumn have already begun to alter the faces of the stream; banks have moved or disappeared, small dams have formed and features you'd become familiar with through the year are gone. There was a log, left by last years wet season, used to cross the stream in a section some distance from a crossing place in either direction; I used this log on every occasion I walked this way, now it lays 20m down stream logded in the branches of a group of trees/shrubs surrounding a deep pool.

Eternal Battle

As the song goes, what a difference a day makes; from the balmy sunshine of a warm tee shirt wearing day yesterday to the cold, grey and blustery landscape of today. Strolled through the old enclosure today, a favourite place of mine that stimulates all the senses. If, as its name may imply, it was an internationally planted enclosure, all traces of those intentions have long disappeared; I'm not sure it wasn't natural woodland enclosed; it has a wild wood feel about it. No sign of uniformity remains. The wood's filled with towering mature Oaks and Beeches, grown on the whole straight and strong with massive limbs, and an under story of Holly, Yew and Birch supported by a cast of other shrubs and small trees. The floor, deep leaf litter from a hundred autumn and more. It's airy and open, increasingly so as the canopy hastily disappears. The woodland floor is littered with the remains of trees as if an eternal battle between the trees has been on going for generations, or perhaps the eternal struggle between the forces of nature. Whole trees, part trees, limbs and branches lay discarded all around; like casualties on a battle ground. It's impossible to walk in straight line for more than a few meters without needing to climb over or circumnavigate tree remains. The older trees, some who only barely cling on as a half trunk sporting a few small branches, are weary of the fight, many others have fallen. The fallen still have a presence in the woods, their story is not yet over, not for a long while. Slowly over years they fade and degrade to then become the stuff of sustenance for new life and the next generation to step up and take on the eternal fight, the wheel turns.

Listen to some fantastic 1978 Here and Now.

leviathans lose limbs

The forest today was warm and bright, the air was clean and fresh and although still moist under foot, had the feel of a balmy spring or late summer day. Walking through the woodland the damage caused by the recent winds were obvious to see; broken branches, from small to large, lay scattered over the woodland floor, occasionally you come to leviathan of a tree who has lost a limb or the tree that has been toppled completely and now lays down amongst the leaf litter, as if resting from a lengthy or arduous activity or both. More often this wont be the end of these trees. Trees missing limbs will survive for many many years, readjusting their weight to accommodate their new shape; whilst frequently those fallen trees will turn up towards the light keep going for as long as they can, sending fresh shoots upward in spring, often remaining for years. Even when a tree no longer grows it still retains a presence in the wood, in its skeletal form, it continues to be part of the woodland landscape, until after years it eventually does literally become part of the land and the wheel turns and the cycle continues on.

Passed the larch stand again today; what a difference a week makes. The greens, yellows and oranges which flamed last week have gone, replaced by rusty brown as the needles begin to fall. The canopies are beginning to thin out and conversely, the views are beginning to open up; glimpses through the trees of those views that only exist for a couple of months a year, when the forest has no roof on. The distance you can see through the woods extends dramatically.

There had been some Skulduggery a foot as the horse skull I found last week had been dis articulated again and the two parts put behind some grass tussocks; the two part reconnected the skull was left in peace..again.

Solstice card

It's time to prepare this years winter solstice card. As always I should have got this together earlier but as always I'm a feckless lay about and if I'm not careful this years card will end up like many before...being finished to late to post. Here's last years card.

Make room for the mushrooms!

It's certainly fungi weather out there today; there are mushrooms where ever one looks, in the grass, around the trees, in amongst the leafs and on the stumps and trees. I found this large lingering Cep down by Highland water nestling against a tree for comfort,the Hedgehogs nearby in the deep lush moss amongst the roots of a tree and the Fly Agaric, which remained perfect, as yet un nibbled by woodland creatures deeper in the woods. These are but a few of the varieties of shapes, colours and types.

Lots of deer out today too, we saw a white one, not a good camouflage choice although not as un common as you'd think.

Sunday

Blown in the woods

We're experiencing the tail end of an anti cyclone or some such and the wind was blowing fiercely today with strong gusts sending the landscape into chaos. On the way out to the woods telegraph poles and trees, all victims of cyclonic winds, laid splintered and smashed, it had been one hell of a wind last night. Walking through the old inclosure of mature Beech and Oak the sound created by the wind through the trees was intense as was the awareness of danger as the tree tops rocked back and forth and branches,large(ish) and small crashed to the ground through a rain of falling leafs. The fallen leafs didn't stay down though, oh no, they were whisked into leaf devil which swirls across the woodland floor. I hastily moved out of the towering trees onto one of the tracks. Across the track a plantation of tightly planted tall slender Larch; with only small clumps of small feathery branches the appeared like grasses or reeds as they swayed vigorously in the gusts of wind. The woods were alive with movement. Made our way out of the woodland down to the swollen stream, now topping it's banks in several places. On the way we must have disturbed a fox eating a pigeon, the pigeon laid freshly caught amongst a flurry of feathers and Norris stared into the nearby woods knowing Mr fox was close at hand; we moved swiftly on and homeward not wanting to spoil a probably much needed dinner.

I'm aware that this blog did not deliver possibly what might have been imagined by its title.

Star Death and the White Dwarfs

Hot Lips

Flaming Lips, Portsmouth Guildhall:
Wonderful wonderful Flaming Lips, they never fail to entertain, enthuse and astound. Oklahoma's finest furnished us with another stunning show; the intimate surroundings of the Guildhall lent themselves to the extravaganza which is a Lips show. Wayne was on fine form and began the show by entering his inflatable ball and proceeding to travel around the crowd on peoples hands. The set was great containing new tracks and of course old favourites, such as Yoshimi and WAND. The crowd were the usual eclectic mix of folk and all had a fantastic time at a stunning gig. Sean drove which meant I could have a drink or two or so.....huzzah! They were supported by 'Star death and the white dwarfs' who were good, unfortunately the fire alarm went off and we had to troop outside until the all clear which shortened their set. Still top night all round. If you've not seen the Flaming Lips, do so, you don't know what you're missing.

Aqua Silva

And they most certainly were; the rain over the last couple of days have brought extreme moistness to the woods and heathland. The usual stream crossings are underwater, areas of woodland are underwater and in some places the water has already re sculpted islands and banks. When trying to cross what is usually a (jumpable) small, and in places narrow, stream I was today faced by a flooding lowland valley, the small grassy mounds and tussocks had become spongy stepping stones and just I thought I'd navigated a relatively safe path I took one step forward and was up to my knees in mud and water...oh how I laughed, I hadn't reached the stream yet! It wasn't only your choice of path that could lead you to dampness today, no, there was the seasonal 'do I get wet from the rain' or 'wet from sweating in all this wet weather gear whilst traversing arduous terrain'; either way you get damp. Contrary to what said before, the leaf falling appear to have slowed down as if the trees are reluctant to release them; even with the wind and the rain we've had they're holding on. Arriving at the forest the sky was heavily clouded, grey but dry, then as I walked there were suddenly a few moments when all the colours in the landscape appeared really vivid and sharp, I drank in the views; then just as quickly the clouds opened and landscape was shrouded in rain, quite heavy and very wet rain. Lucky people are waterproof :o)

Gong 2032

40 years ongoing, Gongs new album 2032 is a tour de force of tea pot flying pixie driven loveliness, with Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy back on board the magic returns, not to say that the other Gong albums aren't good because they are. I received my vinyl copies of this beautiful double album and was overjoyed to find find that as well as being high quality vinyl it came with a CD version, a poster and a booklet; and ore over the music is sublime. I saw them at Beautiful Days earlier this year and they shone. Daevid Allen (who is now 71) and crew are an inspiration to us all and shows that you can continue to be yourself and not give in to the social norms on age if you believe in what you're doing and/or saying. I'm hoping to get to see them in Exeter next week, fingers crossed.

Ragged Boys

Skull duggery

Found a horse skull near to the mushroom wood, there didn't appear to be any other skeletal parts nearby, just a dis articulated skull with it's lower jaw a couple of feet away; Weird though, you'd have thought there'd have been evidence of the rest of the horse around and about; a horse is a big creature. I replaced the lower jaw and left it be.

Ex 'CEP' tional

Who'd have thought it, whilst out walking today I stumbled across a small stand of about two dozen pines lying just outside one of the large plantation enclosures; the floor was mossy grass and was home to a wide range of mushrooms growing amongst the detritus of broken branch and twig which littered the floor. To my surprise as I looked down, there, amongst the weird and wonderful parade of fungi were Ceps! About 400g or so I reckon and signs of plenty more gone over. I'd of never thought of looking there or anywhere like there. Just goes to show that nature isn't always definites and you'll find things in the most unlikely of places. Didn't pick any of them though, thought about it, although if I had it would have been out of greed rather than necessity or genuine desire; I've had a really good year and have eaten my fill of Ceps more frequently than any year previously. I hadn't come equipped to pick either, I hadn't brought a bag, so any mushrooms I had picked would have been carried in some make shift way, which from experience would have led to calamity and ended in a badly bashed, smashed and wholly inedible mess; that would have been a all round waste.

You hav'in a larch?

Wet out again today, no rain, missal or drizzle, just wet; wet underfoot, wet shrubs and ferns, the valley bottoms and woodland hung with mist. Walked in the North forest today, in an area of heathland and plantations with stands of wildwood. As we crossed some wet heathland you could hear the busy song of flocks of birds rousting in the wildwood trees that covered the rise we travelled towards. We got closer and the volume increased until we got too close, when the singing stopped abruptly; I wanted it to continue but I understood why it stopped. The grass on the slope of the rise was strangely viscus; it was the type of moorland / heathland grass which is short and made up of as much moss and lichens as grass; it was as if it had a bit of fairy liquid (or for balance any other washing up liquid) on it. Hard to get any traction and was more akin to skating than walking in places. Wierd. Some lovely trees though, all the usual suspects but in different proportions more Yew and Holly in this wood, with big Oaks . Then through the increasingly bare branches of the trees was a blaze of colour, from lime green to orange and everything in between...it was a large stand of Larch, showing their final colours before bedtime. I like the Larch, it has a Monty Python sound to it..Larch! You could also imagine the Prince of Wales in Black Adder 3 saying it. Makes me smile either way...simple things. Anyways, the sun soon dispersed the earlier mists to leave a lovely day; just what was wanted.

Pigs on the wing

Well, not really pigs on the wing, but pigs in the wood at least. The forest today was moist under foot, drizzly and damp, but with the calm of a earned rest after a job well done as the trees continue to discard their leafs. The oaks are stubbornly holding on to their leafs and the pines are of course remain reluctant to show change and are beginning to stand out from the crowd. The pigs were out and around the woods as it's pannage time, where the pigs grub around for acorns, although today they were feasting on chestnuts which have been particularly good this season. They followed the dog and I, which was nice and created a minor Moses feel, leading a tiny band of snorters to new nut rich lands, until the follow became a chase and we made for the nearest fence and safety.

Autumn falls

Well, I returned from the forest today with enough mushrooms (Ceps) for a small canape. Someone had been picking a day or so before (by the condition of the stems), although they didn't look to had that much success and had obviously had to heavily trim (lots of maggots about) what they had picked. There's change afoot, the wheel is turning and the door on Cep time is closing; we might, after more rain, get another flush of Ceps, although I'm feeling a down turn, the increasingly cold wind of change in the woods. Other mushrooms are awakening for their time to shine; Hedgehogs are becoming more frequent (although they have a long way to go yet), silly simons are about, as are Oysters, Wood Blewits and all manner of groovy looking but inedible shrooms. The forest itself is lovely and quietly busy with lots of deer and other wildlife preparing; the tree top are filled with often quite loud bird song.  The rich colours, golds, rusts, oranges and bronzes which abounded over the last couple of weeks are fading to duller hues as more leaves fall covering the woodland floor in it's seasonal quilt and the trees adopt their skeletal winter appearance. You can feel the change out there. The forest is giving a big yawn before a well earned rest; this year the land has been particularly abundant with bumper crops of nuts, berries and mushrooms.