December sunset

The sunsets this December have been something else.  Blessed with mostly clear skies, just enough cloud to add structure to the sky, and the colours! Man, the colours.  The colours have been something else. Most evenings have more than warranted a moment or two spent in slack jawed smiling wonder, totally absorbed in nature and the moment.

Harbour sky

It's always worth looking behind you at Sunset, yeah, the main show is happening out front to the West (usually, with luck that is), but a subtler display of colour is frequently to be found adorning the sky in the East. You've got to love the salmon pink clouds common at this time of year, they go so well with the clear pale blue skies of winter.

Gold Down

A golden Sun sinks slowly through the Tynham Valley and below Gold Down; in to the sea. The Sun appears so large in those last moments before it vanishes. A perfect end to a lovely day.

Kimmeridge

Looking East from Tynham Cap, just below Towny Shelton's seat 'he liked this view', on over Kimmeridge, quiet now though through different historical periods a hive of industrial activity and across to St Aldhelms Head crowning the horizon. Lovely day.

Wrack and ruin

One of the buildings at North Egliston in the Tynham valley. Once it must have been a near idyllic place to live, set in the midsts of rural and coastal beauty; now isolated behind the wire and warning signs of the Tynham Ranges. It appears to have been one of the few that was commandeered during the war years, though did not suffer the destruction others did; maybe as it's far up the valley, near the edge of the ranges. I know old pictures don't tell the whole story, they don't show the hardship of rural life or the other tribulations which have always have afflicted folk, but what they do show, I like, or maybe I see as an antidote to the pressures of modernity, or maybe it's just that the grass always appears greener in an old black and white photo.  Whatever. It's sad to see such a lovely building die through lack of occupation and neglect. It looks like 2/3's of the building has sunken over the years by a good 2 foot, the entrance and front door attest to this.  The stress this has put on the building as a whole has caused the internal floors to collapse, weakening and finally leading to a section of the rear wall going over.  Now with wall missing and the interior open to the elements, I shouldn't imagine it will be long before the roof goes and that will be that. Sad. 

The Giants toothpick

The Giants toothpick. Well, it might not be a giant toothpick, but it put me in mind of one. If Giants used toothpicks. With a couple of feet wedged firmly and deeply into the memory of Old Burley enclosure, its years of rich detritus, this pick shaped shard of Beech still stands 5ft or so high.  Again I'm wowed by the power of the forces exerted through nature; it must have some storm to splinter and project this substantial piece of tree.

The promise

The Holly King is soundly defeated and the Oak begins his reign.  Although cloud has carpeted the sky from horizon to horizon all day, as the night draws in and the last light fades, the new Sun shows himself with the promise of his return to full strength and of longer, warmer days.

Winter Solstice

Happy Solstice and a cool Yule y'all, wishing you flags, flax, fodder and frigg for the coming year.

Knowlton Winter Solstice

Another lovely ritual with the Dorset Grove, the time the Winter Solstice open ritual out at Knowlton Henge; set in the archaeologically important Cranborne Chase, Knowlton was an important ritual complex throughout prehistory, later the sites must have continued their draw on the local populous as one of the henges (the only one which remains visible) was 'Christianized' withe addition of a church, a church that itself now lay abandoned and in ruins. Still the site is important to both pagan and Christian alike. Today, the weather may have been wintry, but the warmth of the circle easily made up for it. Thanks to the Grove for another lovely ritual.

Sunset

Just made it the beach to see the Sun sinking out over Poole Bay and through the bank of cloud which was rising behind the distant Purbeck Hills. Lovely view of some lovely hills.

Reflections

Like the streams which drain through the forest, time moves on, as does life; still, we should all take time for reflection, not on what could have been, as that path leads nowhere, but on what was, what we've learnt (if anything), what we need to do and which paths we should follow and to what ends.

Old Bones

Last Autumn a dead horse lay, tucked away, hidden amongst the thicket which boarders Red Rise Brook; it looked old and I imagined, probably to make me feel better, that it had chosen this secluded sport for a final resting place, dying in peace amongst the stands and sound it had known during its life. A year later virtually nothing is left, beyond a few scattered old bones. The land has reclaimed her own, the physical remains absorbed, consumed and used by the living, whilst the spirit runs free joining the spectral herds of the worlds beyond.  Nature wastes nothing, a great and most efficient recycler.

Out of season

Now here's a thing you don't see every day, in fact I can't ever remember seeing Magic Mushrooms (psilocybe semilanceata) in December. Usually seen about mainly during September/October, they disappear, like many other fungi, as the frosts arrive. I saw maybe, 50, 60 or so and I imagine I'd have seen more if I persevered. Interestingly (to me anyway) they were in an area which, during the season, is usually prolific, although this year was all but barren, also most these were at the top end of the size scale for Magic Mushrooms and very uncommon for this specific site, which normally hosts smaller examples. Strange days.

Hengistbury Head

The headland of Hengistbury Head has seen human activity since the Paleolithic, when reindeer hunters camped overlooking what was river deltas and plain, and is now the Solent. Later, Mesolithic, mobile hunter gathers, seasonly passed through exploiting the local resources; they were followed by local Bronze Age communities who buried their dead in mounds on the head.  As the Bronze Age gave way to the Iron Age, the double dyke defences were constructed and as the Iron Age progress the head became an important trading port. The head continued as important trading port throughout the Roman period. Little evidence remains of all these activities, other than the double dykes. Through the following centuries stone and iron loded stones were regularly quarried, leaving a deep scar across the headland.  During the Second World War the headland was taken over by the military; guns, radar and other defences turned the head into an important military installation, also extensive mines were deployed; clearance took some time and wasn't until the 1950's that most of the Second World War features were removed or destroyed, again leaving very little evidence. There are though the occasional signs of wartime activity, on the shoreline on the harbour side of the head are shattered remains of, what looks like, a defencive pillbox. On this piece above, one of the larger, you can easily make out one of the firing embrasures. Used for recreation now, it's impossible to know what the future holds for this well used headland.

Stonehenge

I've been to Stonehenge many many times, I've attended rituals there many times, though this is only the second time that I can remember being amongst the mighty ancient stones at midday. Usually, the equinox and solstice rituals I attend are performed at dawn, whereas todays winter solstice ritual with the Dorset Grove was midday. The last time I was here at midday was 30 years ago at the summer solstice, when along with friends I was lucky enough to attend the last Stonehenge Free Festival; something for which I feel blessed, as it changed my life in many ways. Though, that is another story. Today the sun shone on our ritual within the stones, as it had all those years before, although this time rather than watching on at the ritual activity in wonder, I was participating. The Dorset Grove are lovely bunch of people, open and welcoming, you feel included and valued from the first time you share a circle with them. I've attended their open rituals at Knowlton for a couple of years now, always a joy, and had been invited to their Stonehenge ritual, although had never attended as English Heritage states that the wearing ritual apparel is obligatory for private group rituals and I don't usually wear robes. Kindly, Ian, Arch Druid of the Dorset Grove had gifted me a cloak after hearing that was the reason I didn't attend their Stonehenge rituals. So, off I went. The Sun shone brightly, mitigating the frosty air which hung in the hollows and scoured the open plain and a beautiful ritual was had to welcome the birth of the new Sun and the promised return of longer days. There was ritual, music, poetry, new initiates, blessings, meditation, shamanism and humour; what more could you want. Ian and the other grove members approach to modern Druidism and it's relationship to the druids of old is honest and refreshing. We make it up as we go along, he said. And that doesn't really matter, I'm happy with that, it should be a reenactment, it should be real and relevant to the now.  I feel it's the intent that is important and the continuity. That folk have celebrated, venerated or marked the seasons since the dawn of humanity, all in different ways, all calling on different deities, in groups and alone, though all understanding their shared and equal connection with all other life on our flying rock. A top day with good folk. Thank you Dorset Grove.

Frosty

Jacks about. Even in the middle of the day, after the Sun has poked his head periodically through the racing clouds, you can see where he's passed.

Mossy

Renewed moisture out in the woods has reinvigorated the mosses, returning them to a lush vibrant green, which coats trunks, branches and carpets woodland debris and floor.

Anyone for cricket?

You wouldn't believe people used to play cricket here, not centuries ago either, but only a few decades back. I'd never have imagined it, but talking to local residents who've lived here for years, annually two parallel roads, both ending at our common, would engage in a friendly cricket match. The ground was treeless, flat and open then; a favourite place for local kids to have a kick about and well used recreational space. Amazing how fast nature will re-wild herself if given the opportunity, but it hints at something far more interesting (to me anyway), that is social change. The area only re-wilded because all the people stopped using it, the question is, why? What social factors brought about these changes, more than one I'd guess. Was it the shift in social statuses that brought about the end of the annual cricket? One road being privately owned, the other council housing; around this time a conservative government set the beginnings of the demonization and division between those from 'council estates' and homeowners, suggesting and encouraging that home ownership made you socially superior. Thatcher is famously credited with saying there was no such thing as society; a self fore filling prophecy? That may account for the street on street cricket matches, but what abouts the kids? There were still plenty of children in the area, why did they stop using the common? The emergence of games consoles maybe? Or was the increased fear of stranger danger and the beginnings of childrens disenfranchisement from 'outside' a cause?  Are there other factors haven't I identified? I asked a local type and they merely shrugged and said 'dunknow'. Sad that community events fade and die; I think our lives are somehow lesser for it and division certainly makes us weaker, collectively I mean. So many questions and never enough answers. Things like this get me thinking; I think, I think too much.

Endurance

It's quite amazing how wood can endure in the most hostile of conditions. Bathed in the last of the days rays, this groyne build of sturdy timbers shows the scars of countless tides and numerous storms, and yet still holds firm. The uprights have been sculpted into smoothed irregular shapes, the horizontal beam surface, scalloped, as if by ancient tools; all a combination of wave and sand and pebble. You wouldn't think that wood could be so strong under such adverse conditions, you'd think the constant shift from aerobic to anaerobic would lead to speedy decomposition. But, not so. The ironwork which binds the timbers on the other hand, the plates, nuts and bolts, have not fared so well, rusted and corroded by the salty brine, they remain only as increasingly formless masses.

New Forest Coast

Clouds at sunset off the New Forest coast this evening. Far out.

Bindon Hill Sunset

Climbing back up from Mupe Bay, the Sun was was starting to set and a glorious warming orange hue coated the land. As we climbed higher up Bindon Hill, the sun sank lower, shining its last rays into the open mouth of Lulworth Cove, before finally sinking behind the horizon hugging clouds and disappearing beyond Portland. Another beautiful day in Purbeck.

Mupe Rocks

Mupe rocks, so often out of reach beyond the fences and warning signs of the Lulworth ranges, were bathed in cool winter sunshine today, with a powder blue sky which was only occasionally broken by passing cloud. Although just east along the coast from Lulworth cove, a local 'honey pot', Mupe feels wild and isolated, helped, no doubt, by all routes to Mupe requiring some exertion, either around a long pebble cove or over a steep Bindon Hill.  Mupe never fails to stir you. The rocky bay has changed in places since my last visit, the 'broken beds' have collapsed in several places, reshaping the higher reaches of the inter-tidal. Beyond that though Mupe appeared timeless as always. The tide was out exposing fingers of freestone, the ledges, extending out into Mupe Bay and allowed rare access out on to some of the bays bigger rocks. Your eyes are darting around, everywhere you're spoilt for for wonders. Beyond any doubt one of the most beautiful sections of coast in purbeck. There's wild history in this place too, of nature and of men, and you feel it, it's a very special place.

Tentacles

Tension

A sign of our times?

Sunset downt quay

The sun descends in the west, as it has always done, and we stand watching, as folk always have.

Hambledon Hill

I know in the scale of things, the hills in Northwest Dorset aren't that grand, but they still hold a magic, the way they appear to burst up through the surrounding virtually flat landscape, most capped by ancient monuments. At a steep sided 192m, Hambledon Hill enjoys commanding views in all direction across Blackmore Vale. The air was so fresh, so clean and so bloody cold, driven by a strong wind, it raked the exposed hill top and reminded you that even though the day was bright, it's still winter. The hill has attracted the attention of people for millennia, with the earliest monuments being created in the Neolithic and representing some of the earliest in the country. Three causewayed enclosures, at least one believed to be used in ex-carnation practices and chambered long barrows where the cleaned bones would have been deposited, lay across the summit. Large quantities of Neolithic artifacts have been recovered during excavation, suggesting repeated episodes of occupation, whether permanent or seasonal/ritual is unknown. Although regularly placed human skulls in one of the causewayed enclosure ditches suggests the site held significant ritual importance. Later evidence suggests a Bronze Age settlement. There is little to see of this occupation, all that remains are the round barrows, home to their dead. During the Iron Age the hill top was developed into a substantial hillfort, which consumed and truncated much of the earlier phases of occupation and use. Occupied for about 300 years it would appear that the hillfort was abandoned in about 300BC in favour of the roomier and better sited adjacent Hod Hill. Throughout prehistory the activities played out high on Hambledon hill would have been visible for miles around, reinforcing the hills importance to the surrounding tribes; those activities echo through time in the overlaying monuments which crowd the summit.  It's quite a site.

Jelly ear

Jelly Ears (Auricularia auricula-judae) are doing well. Jelly Ears stand out amongst our native mushrooms as they can endure hard frosts and so can be found throughout the year.

Graffiti tree

Found this graffiti on a Beech alongside Highland Water near Bolderford Bridge and it could be useful. The letters are all clearly defined, although they're very ephemeral in nature only cutting into, not through, the phloem layer. There's a date too, 7/14; so I know when it was carved. I've often wonder about the age of the graffiti I come across, and how graffiti scars heal and age. With some it's clear by the date, with others the names sometimes offer a clue, most though are a mystery. I'm hoping that watching these scars heal may shine some light on the process.