Psilly season

The psilly season is with us once again and the same familiar faces can be seen riffling through the long grass in search of their favoured mind fruit, the psilocybe semilanceata or more commonly known magic mushroom. Some barefoot hippy types, others well spoken country looking types and of course small groups of inquisitive youths. Frequently over the years I seen people picking everything but what they're looking for and had to advise them to throw their hoards aways; though reluctantly at first, I've always managed to convince them that they really don't want to take the bags of mixed nonsense they picked and if they did they wouldn't get the effect they desired. Never pick mushrooms if you aren't 100% sure of what you've picked. Psilocybe mushrooms have been utilized all over the world since ancient times; archaeologists have identified there use from as far back as the Mesolithic, probably used in a shamanic context, as with the Fly Agaric in Northern Europe.

Pannage season

A pair of small friendly saddle back pigs rooting about Red Rise Brook confirmed that the pannage season has begun.  Not a feared of myself or my hound they hurriedly approached and gratefully snuffled the handfuls of fresh acorns I had picked for them.  It's great to see animals in the forest and it's a shame there's such resistance to the reintroduction of wild species across our land. Yes, we'd have to take more care when out and about in nature, and?  We've become so divorced from nature and the natural world that we no longer see ourselves as part of it, and there in lays the source of so many of our problems. 

The Warriors Call

Although the weather was damp to start, there was a nice turn out of Earth loving types attending the warriors call gathering against fracking at the Knightwood Oak in the forest. There were faces I knew and new ones too. The police popped by, what they expected I'm not sure, but they soon left when it became apparent this was a spiritual gathering and nothing more.  The ritual began promptly at 12.00 in unison with others throughout the country and indeed around the world.  It went well, a positive gathering and an affirmation of our opposition to fracking and of our support for mother nature.  The natural world is coming under sustained attacks from industry and development, fracking, development plans for our national parks; we have to draw a line or risk losing our natural heritage, leaving a desolate legacy for future generations.

When all the trees have been cut down, when all the animals have been hunted, when all the waters are polluted, when all the air is unsafe to breathe, only then will you discover you cannot eat money.
  Cree Prophecy

A sign of things to come?

Country Joe McDonald said, 'hold on it's coming. He said, hold on it's almost here'. I hope he was talking about this years mushroom season, because last years was a complete non starter. The omens could be good. Wandering this evening around my favoured mushroom roam, I picked nearly a dozen perfect Ceps (Boletus edulis), firm and maggot free. A touch more rain required and we could be away.

Parasol

A young parasol mushroom, one of a group bursting out on Spy Holms.

Throop sluices

There has been a water mill at Throop since the 12th century, providing flour to local folk and for trade. Sadly, the mill is no longer working, its wheels coming to a standstill in 1972 and finally becoming uninhabited in 1981 when the last miller Cecil Biles died.  The building is closed up and falling into disrepair, some of the entrances bricked up and it is no longer accessible to the public; a sad state of affairs. The overflow sluices too have now fallen into neglect with lack of use; overgrown and quiet, the area has become a haven for wildlife and a lovely place to wander. 

Acorns

The great quantity and good size of this years acorns are weighing down the mighty Oak boughs throughout the forest.  It's a good year for acorns and no doubt it'll be a good pannage year too.  I've yet to see pigs in the forest this year, although I've heard they're about. This years acorn glut will, I'm sure, lead to an extended pannage season.

Mabon

Mabon

Shining benevolently from high above, 

Arianrhod, Rhiannon, Ceridwen,
the harvest Moon radiates  deep love.

A love that's felt across our land, 

by those who stand in circles,

heart to heart and hand in hand.

In fleeting equilibrium,

we stand before darknesses victory,

it's spoils, the months till Solstice comes. 

Now Mabon's bounties are ours to collect,

the gift of the Goddesses fruits,

we gather gratefully, with due respect.

Though final harvest's still to come,

nows the time to rest, reflect and celebrate,

we thank the Earth, our mother, for all she's done.

Mabon blessing to y'all

A path less trodden

Clutter Wood

Young Beech and Birch trees compete for light, crowded together for security and support they grow straight and tall as they reach for the sky. 

Chapmans Pool

There were two worlds of weather at the coast today.  The upper world, walking along West Hill out towards Houns Tout summit, a world shrouded in moist low cloud and wracked by strong winds and the lower world of clear tranquillity, which you entered as you descended to the shores of Chapmans Pool.  There was a point on the descent were you stepped instantly from one weather experience to the other, a strange sensation.  The tide was out at Chapmans Pool revealing slippery clay ledges, spotted with the exposed and eroded sections of ancient fossils, ledges which stretched some distance out to sea. We sat sat a while on the small stone slipway, surrounded by its gnarly pitched wooden boat houses and remnants of the sea, before making our way up the winding track from Chapmans to Renscombe. Once wide enough to accommodate vehicular access, the track is now little wider than single track after land slips during last winter truncated its course, lowering a 50m section by 2 to 3m. I didn't see another soul walking today. It's always a pleasure walking the Purbeck coast, but more so out of season when you have the place almost to yourself, the sense of freedom and closeness to nature is exhilarating.

September sunset

It's a colourful world

Autumn brings a new colour pallet to the land, rich and yet subdued, a new range of colours appear in never ending increments.

Somewhere over the rainbow

I recently read that you create the rainbow, because the existence of a rainbow depends on the conical photo-receptors in your eyes and that some animals don't have these conical photo-receptors and therefore don't see rainbows. So I created this rainbow, in my mind! On this occasion, no matter how fast I walked the rainbows end eluded me and I returned with no pot of gold.  Undeterred by failure, I will continue the search the next time a rainbow falls to earth. You'd think if I created it, I'd be able to find its end.

Harbour veiw

Morton Pack

Scattered across the Studland peninsular are the remnants of war, or rather the remnants of the preparation for war.  Some monuments are stand out, the hard concrete shapes of pillboxes and emplacements tucked just below the horizon or reinforced blocks which flank a road or chine, there are less visible remains too. Emerging from the side of what is possibly a period crater, created during training, are the remains of a section of wire mesh Sommerfeld track used by the military to cross soft ground, in this case sand dune and wet heath. Used here during the exercises in preparation for the invasion of Normandy. Most people will pass by these remains not knowing their historical importance or relevance to D Day, probably viewing the remains as little more than dumped rubbish.

Little Sea fringes

The environs of Little Sea are a strange land, an area which has always brought to mind foreign plains rather than the South coast. Heather covered dunes give way to low wet grassland, punctuated by the occasional lone or small clump of stunted trees. The heavy grey clouds added a sense of wildness and isolation to the scene today.

Autumn

Autumn light in Great Huntley Bank.

Lose yourself

Lose yourself in natures embrace. Still green, lush and welcoming, the forest beckons those who require its peace and tranquillity, those who feel its call.  Lose yourself amongst the stands, wonder at it all, from the tallest tree of mighty boughs to tiniest flower, invisible unless sought and all living things in between.  Soon most of the forest life will retreat for the winter, bare trees and opened spaces, not that that doesn't have its own beauty, no, we should cherish the moments we share with nature in every season. Come lose yourself and find so much more.

Autumn Morning

The leafs are turning golden brown, giving the impression of autumn fall, although I heard that this isn't the case, in fact what we're experiencing is known as a 'fool autumn' a consequence of the dry August just past and that fall proper will come in at its normal time. Still, the changing colours combined with the early morning Sun gives a beautiful effect.

Ash

They say you don't miss something until its gone, or at least is threatened; how true.  Although I spend much of my time in the woods, the Ash had never really stuck out. That maybe because the Ash is not so common in the forest, not compared with the Oak, Beech or Chestnut. It's still the case that I don't see it much in the forest, but now  I appear so see it where ever I journey beyond the forest bounds. Another of our indigenous deciduous species threatened with decimation by disease, sad times. I remember the demise of the mighty Elms which once graced our woodlands, whose silhouette have now vanished from our skylines. The Oak too is threatened. Through less than scrupulous monitoring of imports, driven by reckless profit our forests, our natural heritage is threatened with extinction.  Will we ever learn?

Gate

A redundant gate, neglected, stands alone with no attached fence on either post, although forgotten and decaying, void of the purpose it once served, it still remains firm and determined to endure. For many years to come it will remain as a clue to past human activities.

Cobwebs

Who'd imagine there were so many spiders about?  In the increasingly chilly early mornings the gorse bushes are covered in a myriad of jewelled cobwebs, the result of their long nights labours. The competition for resources must be intense.

Summer Barrows

The ground is parched along the chalk ridge of Nine Barrow Down, on the barrows themselves the dried grass is cropped low by sheep who have taken any last remnants of nutrition and green growth that they could.  The Sun still beams from an azure sky populated by occasional swathes of bubbling white cloud and there's still plenty of heat to be felt, but you know you're in the last days of summer.  Something inside you wants to suck as much in as possible, you almost feel a subtle sense of desperation, knowing soon the winds will rise and with them scudding showers; you need to store as many memories of summer as you can to keep you going through the dark half of the year. I imagine those buried in the barrows would understand. In fact, I imagine those buried in the barrows would have felt the seasons far more acutely than we do, closeted by our modern luxuries. Maybe it's an echo of those far off times that stirs our feelings as seasons change.

Church Moor