Toad (frog) in the hole

Amongst the mainly Oak and Yew on woodland Sloden Hill is a small stand of mature Beech, one, in the centre, of colossal size. This towering beauty is home to a myriad of life, caterpillars of various colour and form traverse its trunk and bough, a hover fly sits motionless, surveying, while bugs, beetles, ants and a whole group of other weird stuff mill around the trunk. The tree is a world in itself. I walk around the base exploring this wondrous world, when my eyes meet small golden eyes peering from within a water filled hollow in the tree; a common frog. The frog, escaping the sun in its moist hollow, seeing me it retreats in to the dark shade of the tree, until only one eye is visible.

Big Bough

you're having a calf

Ober Water

The shallow valley through which Ober Water flows is particularly alive, the clear water, the moist fresh grasses and its open nature all combine to make it a focus for wildlife activity.  A valley of unique quality, where several geological and natural factors have conspired to create an area of wild beauty; the interface of wood and heathland, fed with the waters of life by a small steam originating in the central high plateau and later to become the Lymington River.  

Bluebell Woods

Bottom

Long Slade Bottom from Hincheslea Wood

Azalea

The woodland around Fletchers Hill is filled with an exotic scent, searching for the source of the intense aroma I spy bursts of golden flowers nestled amidst trees. The vibrant yellow flowers are those of escaped Azaleas from the nearby gardens of Rhinefield House.  

Coming soon

Linford Bottom

The view from Pinnick Wood across Linford Bottom and over into Great Linford Enclosure. 

Lotty

Great Huntley Bank

It never ceases to amaze me how an area walked regularly over years can still reveal new vistas with such frequency. Great Huntley Bank runs along the eastern bank of Highland Water below Roman Bridge, a mix of mature Oaks and Beech with an emerging under story of Holly and other small trees. We don't come this side of the stream very often and although walked frequently over the years, the woodland remains fresh. The sounds of human activity disappeared, to be replaced by beautiful bird song, unlike the frantic sounding calls of recent, this song sounded relaxed, as if the birds were kicking back with some Barry White. We walked with wonder through this wonderland of the new, broad green paths transect the woodland, then thin single track until we arrive at Highland Water.  

Highland Water, like other forest streams, is flowing at a greatly reduced rate, its nature being between deep dark pools, some over 1m deep, where the water passes slow and silently and fast and shallow, no more than a few centimeters noisily babbling and bubbling over the gravel bed; a gravel bed exposed in some quantity along this

section of stream.  In places the newly leaf burdened stream side trees cast dappled shadows on the dark waters in the low soft light of early evening. 

Beyond the stream was Brinken Wood; this part of the wood is loosely clustered Silver Birch, the floor covered in a green carpet.  The colours are striking.  After a period taking in the soft Birch wood we became aware of a new sound, the combined humming of thousands of Mosquitoes; soon to begin feasting on us, they hovered surveying any exposed flesh.  Time to move on.  Close Birch woodland gives way to open mature deciduous woodland, grass floored, with beautiful views in all directions.  Nice. 

Brinken

Rooks Bridge

Like a shallow moat defending a woodland fortress enclave, Mill Lawn brook surrounds a fat finger of dense woodland at Rooks Bridge. The brook now greatly reduced in flow still bubbles along happily; it looks clean, alive, the life blood of the land. The woodland at the down stream end is filled with debris, fallen branches, toppled trees and the detritus of the wet winter forest laid strewn about, chaos, amongst this maelstrom of wood, shrubs, some in flower, filled the under story; the result was a dense, close and intense wood, which appears to have depth beyond itself.  Amongst the trunks and debris a clump of bright green leafs stands out as unusual, it's the Western Skunk Cabbage, the bight yellow flower has been replaced by large leafs. As we walked along animal paths that dodged and weaved between the obstacles, the woods opened up slightly and the debris subsided, until the wood opened enough to create spaces, the peripheries still dense; in the center of the largest space a old Oak, 250 years or more. There is no sign of human presence here in this wood, no foot prints, no paths other than those of the woodland inhabitants, few would walk here and I felt lucky to be one who did. Beyond the wood the brook runs through Mill Lawn valley, shallow as it is, through deeply cut meanders. The sun is getting low, the ponies are active, individuals and pairs joined together forming small groups, then merging to a herd which galloped through the valley towards Red Rise Hill, like a cavalry column minus their mounts; we saw them later, their numbers swollen, they headed for the Old Enclosure as night crept in from the East.  

Pinnick

Dandy

Resting on a grassy knoll, I spied a Dandelion seed spinning gently on the light breeze which graced the day; as it spun passed me and I watched it land with precision and control, I wondered if the seed would succeed. I thought, 'I'll remember this and check back in a while', knowing instantly the words came out, that I would forget.

Ghost Box

Astonishing X Men continues to astound, Elliss' writing is top shelve as usual, whilst Bianchis' art is sublime.

Red Rise Brook

The former route of Red Rise Brook, now running a previous course, the brook meander along the edge of the shade leaving the former course a green grassy road through the trees.

Pony

A very young Pony kept close to its mother, mimicking the adults moves and postures; the two were lazily grazing the thick new green glass that flanks the banks Red Rise Brook; as if  offended by our presence, they reluctantly meandered away towards the stand of mature Oaks which nestle together on the rise above the shade, abutting the open wet heath.  The leafs are becoming dense on many trees, although some trees are slow to cover, noticeably the Oaks.  

sunset

Warwickslade

The evening forest is flooded with the warmth and light of a low sun, orange hues are projected on to the majestic trees, tall and bold, happy in the positions they have held for hundreds of years. Brinken Wood was full of unseen movement, noise of that movement frequently heard and yet nothing; constantly drawn to scan by noises distant and nearby, although never identifying the perpetrator. Warwickslade Cutting, a small waterway, formally ran through Brinken Wood parallel to Warwick Slade, an open area of heather and grass, heretofore a straight cut drain  is now returned to its older meandering route; 100 year plus Oak trees through one area drastically thinned, to continue the open area of the Slade, create a beautiful grass covered space.  The area of Brinken Wood between the current and old courses of the cutting is returning to wet woodland and remains waterlogged in places. Warwickslade cutting will soon join Highland Water and travel on to the sea through Lymington. 

Ober Deer

Ober Water was a hive of activity; Ponies lazily grazed the lush grass while nervous Deer scanned for threats, a pair of Canada Geese rested, until disturbed by our presence when they strode away and a Heron surveyed the babbling stream for tasty morsels; above pairs of birds swooped and swirled through the damp grey skys, noisily going about their business.  Amongst the  fallow Deer herds a few white Deer are clear to see; there numbers appear to have greatly increased over the last few years.  The recent rain has fed the burgeoning forest and everywhere is vivid green, lush and fresh; the seasonal water courses still flowing with water, retreating but still there.

Cow

Under current management plans Cows graze the open deciduous woodland again maintaining the woodland floor and its unique flora.

Pinnick Plants

Bluebells
Wood Anemones
Wood Spurge

Pinnick again

Linford Brook is teaming with fry of various sizes, darting through the shallow waters and disappearing into the deeper pools if anything approaches; it's good to see the brook looking so healthy and full of life. Pinnick is an old wood, a wild wood, a jumble of self seeded trees and shrubs vying for the dappled sun which floods through the open canopy. Several of the older trees are losing their bark as they slowly return to the earth; the missing bark reveals intricate patterns and strange shapes. Sitting under one of the mature Oaks I drifted in the woods, lost in the sounds and smells. Unlike many of the enclosures, old or new, where the tightly packed trees create an impenetrable shield to the sun, leaving the floor bare but for last seasons leaves, other than where a leviathan has fallen; Pinnicks floor is covered with plant life. Amongst the trees, Bluebells, Wood Sorrel, Wood Spurge, Wood Anemones and others carpet the ground with lush green punctuated with spots of colour; Pinnick is a wood at peace with itself, mature and well seasoned, a special and a magical place.

Green

Today the woods (Burley Old 1700) appeared furtive and mysterious, possibly through the introduction of new shadows and shapes cast by the newly clothed trees or maybe the abundance of life that floods the glades and groves. The green of the freshly opened Beech leafs is intense, a vivid light green, almost fluorescent in the bright spring light. Out of the corner of your eye, movement everywhere, undefined, ephemeral, strange and beautiful, all over the landscape; the woods are alive. A small group of unaware Deer run towards us, not seeing us until they were merely meters away, stopping, a lengthy Mexican stand off ensued before the Deer could take no more and broke for the cover of the deeper wood; more Deer where seen throughout the walk, their abundance noticeable. An Owl took flight from a nearby sheltered branch and swooped gracefully through the broad leaf maze, disappearing into a sea of fresh green to a noisy chorus from the other birds perched high amongst the boughs. It was one of those walks when you can't help be smile, beautiful.

Rooty

Returning to Anderwood today the sun shone brightly and the woods had a inviting feel to them. Anderwood Enclosure (1811) a strange wood, at once open, airy and closed; the mature Oaks have thinned through lose, stumps and trunks are frequent, the spaces created now occupied by birch, holly, naturalised young Oaks and others. I had come to collect a piece of wood for a teacher doing a topic on nature, the ideal piece was spotted last evening, a 2m mass of Ivy which once smothered a young tree; the tree had all but disappeared, leaving the skeleton of Ivy. The side branches were removed to leave a piece of natural art. The ends needed to be lashed to stop the Ivy mass unravelling. I made for nearby coniferous woods; on the way, picking up a stick, I fashioned a digging stick and on arrival at the conifers, grubbed away in the soft peaty soil searching for stringy roots. I tried a couple of different tree types and the Pine came out best, providing two meter length roots of near continuous gauge. Returning to the Ivy, washing the roots on the way, I set about splitting the roots to produce flexible binding material; bound the ends of the Ivy and was off.

Gnarly trunk

This gnarly old tree is frequented by an Owl, ideal perching for a hunting mission.

Chucky

The first Chicken of the woods I've seen this year. This small clump of mushroom magic is growing on a stump on the boundary bank of Anderwood Enclosure (1811); a couple more days and it'll be ready for collection.

Blossom

The old enclosure (1700) is greening quickly, closing in, creating spaces in between; if there was sun the light would now be dappled, although since May arrived the sun has become shy, hiding behind clouds, furtively appearing infrequently. Even without the suns golden beams, the old enclosure appears regal dressed in it's new cloths; deer hiding amongst the fallen boughs, leave the security of their hides as we approach and disappear quickly now that the woods afford them shade and shelter. The Oaks still hold back, buds visible yet nowhere near fully formed; when the Oaks come into full leaf the transformation of the woods will be complete. A beautiful blossoming tree shines on the bank of Red Rise Brook, as the only colourful blooms amongst the fresh greens of new leafs its impact is immediate; what tree it is I am unsure, although the colour of the blooms is apple like.

Burley Old

Beltaine Glastonbury Tor

Leaving this morning at 0245 the sky was dark, the stars hidden by thick clouds through which occasionally the glow of the moon could be glimpse;  it remained dry, that is until I reached the base of Glastonbury Tor and it began to rain.  The rain stopped after 30 mins and I began my assent.  Around the base of Glastonbury Tor, the fields are filled with the colours of spring; whites, yellows and blues contrasting against the vibrant green of lush new grass; blossoming trees of many types spread colour along the hedgerows and stream banks. In contrast, above the wind blew through heavy grey skys as below on the Tor Beltaine was celebrated with ceremony and morris men dancing, whilst the curious looked on. It's a time of fertility, the planting of seeds, of hope as the sun returns; although the sun stayed shrouded today. The May Queens time, the Goddess in form of a maiden adorned by white hawthorn flowers, a symbol of purity, growth and renewal. Here's hoping all our seeds and hopes for the coming months come to fruition.