Gorse

Gorse (Ulex) can be found in flower at all times of the year due to the wide range of species in the thorny evergreen shrubs family. That said, this time of the year they come into their own as their flowers blaze across heathland, forest and headlands. As the weather warms so their coconuty scent fills the air. For all their thorniness they're quite a useful shrub: the flowers can be eaten, used in salads, added to herbal teas and used to flavour wine; gorse burns well and was used to fire bread ovens; the wood is durable and has been used to make forks and spoons. For years when we used to make flower wines, Gorse flower wine was a favourite. This time every year we'd make our way over the ridge above Kimmeridge where we'd collect huge quantities of gorse flowers. Small and fiddly, well protected by long and incredibly sharp thorns, no matter how careful you were your fingers would became painful pin cushions by the end of the forage. The wine was always worthwhile though, a fine flower wine; I must make some again.

Penguin little black classics

Penguin little black classics, at 80p each they're a bargain! And, with 80 titles to choose from you're also spoilt for choice. Each book is about 50, or so, pages long and offers an opportunity to dip into the works of some of the worlds most noted authors from across the ages. I picked up a handful of titles today and can't wait to get reading.

Coppiced Ash

The grown out stools of Ash (Fraxinus excelsior) reminds us that coppicing was once widespread and extended over several varieties of tree. It looks like these stools have been neglected for many years by the size of the trunks coming from them. In the stool hollows Ramsons have taken seed and flourish as they do on the woodland floor.

First flower

We walked through a couple of miles of lush Ramson (Allium ursinum) carpeted woodland today and saw countless tightly closed flower buds developing, though only one opened flower throughout the entire walk. The band of woodland which extends and covers the length of the landward side of the Purbeck Hills between Rollington Farm and the cut through the hill at Ulwell has erupted with Ramsons and the smell of garlic rises wherever you put your foot. I'm uncertain of the rights of way, so we made our way quietly and deftly through the stands, following old foresters tracks were present of well used animal tracks if not. We hurried on our way, always alert, taking in all about us. There's a wild feel about the woods, they were obviously managed at one time and in places are being again, but a lot of them through neglect have returned to a kind of wildish state. Again today was another opportunity to extend my knowledge of the area, adding new places to my mind map. I always love that.

I tried a couple of developing buds whilst walking, being small they haven't reached their full strength yet, but still contained plenty of flavour and the promise of whats to come. Time to look out some recipes, it's shaping up to be a bumper year.

Newts

 

Having only recently emerged from overwintering Palmate Newts (Lissotriton helveticus) bask in the shallow rivulets that criss cross the forest and feed the woodland streams. There were a dozen or so out today, good to see. The main threat to these newts is habitat destruction, so the forest with its reasonably stable ecology represents a safe haven for them in an increasingly threatening world.

Here to help?

It says 'here to help' on the side of this drinks container, help who? Who are they kidding! They're part of our problem. I was at least a mile from the minor-est of made up road, even further from any major roads, on a hollow way and the nearest McDonalds must be 10 miles or more away. So how does this piece of McDonald crap find it's way so deep into the Chase. It's got to be some form of dark arts or something. Or, I suppose it could be that people are just shit thick and ignorant. Whatever, it's both saddening and angering to constantly find corporately labeled crap, even in our most remote roams. I can't understand it though, people must come out to these places because of their beauty, so why dump your crap here and spoil it? It makes no sense!

Bone forests

Back in the bone forests of the Chase.

Equinox

Subdued by mist, a beautiful equinox sunset; Ostara, Alban Eilir, Equinox blessings y'all and my the seeds, of dreams and plans as well as plants, you sow now thrive.

Knowlton

Last night was The Clan of the Pheryllt's equinox ritual out in the forest, and a lovely affair it was too. Now today another lovely ritual with The Dorset Grove. I feel blessed to have found two such open and welcoming groups within easy traveling distance, there was a time back in the day when we had to range far and wide to find rituals to attend. As always at ancient Knowlton, sited on its open rise, the wind scoured, but again as always the warmth of the people in attendance more than compensated for it. Equinox blessing and flags flax fodder and frig to y'all.

Eagle Oak

Tucked away amongst more modern coniferous plantations hides the Eagle Oak, as if ashamed of it's association, an association of which it had no choice.

Burning times

Smoke rising over the forest can only mean one thing. No, not that the careless morons are about, that's not until the summer months. This time of year, when conditions are right, strictly controlled fires are used to clear and reinvigorate the land. The smoke rising today from the heathland comes from burning back the old leggy heather, rough grass, bracken and invasive gorse. The burning period for lowland areas like ours is the 1st of November to the 31st of March, so this is a late burn.

Up and over

A long walk today, over the Purbeck Hills, down and through the river Corfe valley, up onto the coastal ridge and out to Houns Tout. Some walk, nearly 12 miles at a good pace and every step through a wondrous changing landscape. Through Norden wood so lush and verdant, rising up through the trees, lit so beautifully by the growing Sun and out onto the Purbeck Hills. Spoilt for views, it would be easy to lounge here all day. Onward though, down into the Corfe valley, a walk through history; barrows, castles, lime kilns, old mills and ancient field boundaries, the land brims with signs of human pasts. What, another hill already? The slow climb up onto the coastal ridge affords new views, giving new perspectives. Then you're out on the coastal ridge, with the sea out in the distance. This route takes you along the ridge overlooking the Encombe house and the Encombe estate. As we walk I let my mind wander. What if? What a perfect place to live; my perfect place to live. The ridge out towards Houns Tout is long and exposed, I hadn't noticed the wind before. The air at Houns Tout is fresh and invigorating, I breath it in as I take in the spectacular views and a well deserved rest. Again spoilt this time with wild coastal views, it would be easy just to sit and lose myself. But no, we've still got the whole walk in reverse to do, only this time it appears somewhat longer and the hills just a bit steeper; strange. Not that I'm complaining, no, not at all. Every walk in Purbeck is a blessing, a chance to heal the wounds of modern living and lift the spirit.

Corfe Castles

The majestic, even in desolation, Corfe Castle, with the earthen siege castle visible in the foreground. I've mentioned before that Corfe was a royal castle and reckoned one of the strongest in the country, as such, it's seen its fair share of action. The siege castle was first thrown up in 1139, when whilst being held for Matilda, it was put under siege by King Stephen; the castle withstood the siege unslighted. In 1643 the siege castle was put to use again when this time being held by Lady Bankes for the royalists the castle was laid siege to by parliamentarian forces. Again the castle held out, the defenders suffered only 2 casualties, whereas the attackers suffered over 100 deaths, until the castle was betrayed and taken by the parliamentarians. The siege castle was remodeled during this period to accommodate artillery. It's an interesting earthwork.

Ramsons

The Ramsons continue to develop through Norden Wood, spreading to cover huge swathes, carpeting the woodland in lush green; it wont be long before they'll be ready for collecting. So many good foraging opportunities to be had in spring, well, if you enjoy eating greens anyway.

Night walk

Went out for a walk in the dark this evening, creepy, the wind rustled through the naked trees, stirred the shrubs and bushes, awakening ancestral fears of the dark hidden deep in our subconscious. You're never quite sure what it is that you're supposed to be afraid of, after all, it's dark, who's likely to be out. I think it's probably what, rather than who, that we are afraid of. Even with a rational head on, you need to concentrate to stop yourself descending into irrational fear. Fear: it can be a powerfully debilitating emotion. Still, it was nice out.

Down but not out

How long does it take for a fallen tree to disappear back into the earth? Well, quite some time it seems. I remember this tree coming down over 20 years ago, and although weathered and barkless, it still remains a prominent feature and obstacle, having fallen across a track. It's remains solid and I should image it'll still be here for some years to come. In some parts of the forest the rotting hulks of mighty leviathans felled by the infamous 'hurricane' of 87' can still be seen. They're amazing really, trees.

Canopy

Soon all these boughs, from little branch to tiny twig, will sprout with this years new growth, and a verdant canopy will enclose the woodland, creating huge green halls and corridors for us to wonder through.

From the planet Gong they say...

 Above: December 1991 The Fridge Brixton,

From the planet Gong they say.....Daevid has gone home today.  Daevid Allen has passed on. The world is a little darker for his passing, but still a whole lot brighter for him having been here. Thank you Daevid. The Gong family of bands have had a massive influence of me. For me it was the sound track to transformation, a period of change for me in my late teens early twenties which set me on the path on which I continue to tread. And one of the happiest times of my life. Through all the changes of musical styles I embraced, whether the rave scene or hay nonny nay in a crustie stylee, the Gong family have never fallen by the wayside and always remain on the play list. I saw Gong play several times, all memorable, all so full of joy and love. Several gigs though stand out. The first was in 1989, I gone with some younger friends who hadn't seen Gong before, although were well versed in their music having listened to plenty around mine. The band took to the stage, Daevid in full finery, dressed strangely and flamboyantly, the crowd roared.  Daevid got down from the stage and got the crowd to form a circle, which of course we did, then he proceeded to take us through a range of activities designed, I think, to free us from any inhibitions before the gig blasted off. Great stuff. But what sticks in my mind was one of friends there that evening, Squiffy, his face, the smile on it as Daevid properly blew his mind. A couple of years later we saw him again, this time in Floating Anarchy guise, Squif again was blown away when Daevid and Keith (the Bass) sat on the table next to us; Squif had enjoyed a large cup of tea that evening and just beamed at them, something I'm sure they were used to, whilst gibbering at us. Another memorable gig for me was Beautiful Days, where I got to expose my children to the glories of Gong live, they were blown away, I don't think they could take it all in, though they talked about it for ages afterwards. Well, it's not the norm and was miles away from their usual musical landscape, though I'm sure a seed was planted. It was the first time I'd seen Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy back in the band too, magical. Or the time we saw Gong supported by the Steve Hillage Band, or the time............ You know what I mean, all the times I saw Gong were magical times and memorable times. Again, thank you Daevid.

Sleaford Mods @ the Joiners Arms

Ah, the Joiners Arms, Southampton, the type of venue we need more of, especially down this way. A small pub frontage with a back room stage, no seating to speak of, rough, ready and with atmosphere oozing from it.  The type of venue that puts on smaller bands, local bands, you know the type of thing. The ground floor for future stadium bands on their way up....maybe. Tonights delight were the 'Sleaford Mods'. A hiphop combo delivering rye social comment over repetitive beats, stripped down, it's as much art and poetry as it is music. Bloody fantastic! Our media is saturated with idealized representations of whats 'normal', buy this, have that, consume, the economies getting better, although it's all a lie, well at least it is for many who find themselves disenfranchised in one way or another.  The Sleaford Mods give another narrative, one familiar to those disenfranchised. Tracks like 'Jobseeker, McFlurry and Black Monday' paint a truer picture of modern Britain, of division, of inequality, of consumer and celebrity shite, and of people set adrift. The Sleaford Mods stand out in this respect, they shouldn't really, there should be loads of artists decrying the state of things, but there's not. Corporate media rules the airwaves now, reinforcing the corporate message though every track. Good on the Sleaford fellows, all power to their elbows....we need them. Their support were two young fellows, whose name elude me now, though they were good, pumping out some very acceptable rock beats. My bad for forgetting their name. Anyway. We made our way down the front and waited. A man wearing a baseball cap and dufflecoat tapped on the shoulder so he could get by, to my surprise he proceeded to get up on stage; it was Andrew Fearn, the band member responsible for the music, he popped out a laptop and set it on a small coffee style table.....the beats began. Next up on stage was vocalist Jason Williamson and we were off. What followed was a mesmerizing roller-coaster of words or maybe a flow of social consciousness, or maybe a tirade of angry rants, or......, it doesn't really matter, it was fantastic and all backed by hypnotic beats. Fearn bobbed about at the back, checking the beats and beaming smiles, whilst Williamson delivered lyrics and profanity at a blistering rate. I couldn't stop moving nor smiling.  If you've not seen the Sleaford Mods live, do so, they represent something beautiful, they're something real, telling it straight and a much need tonic to counter the bland banality of corporate slush. We are the Mods! We are the mods! We are, we are, we are the Mods!

Terry Pratchett

I'm sure DEATH dreaded this appointment, or maybe not, maybe he's a fan too? Sadly, Terry Pratchett has gone over to the summer lands, though what a legacy he's left us. The first of Terry's books I read was Truckers, way back in 1990. I was at once a fan and over the following years I consumed his works when ever I could. He has a way of writing unlike any other, it's warm and funny, clever and in places poignant, he created a world which, although floating through space carried by elephants standing on a turtle, is wholly believable. It was a world populated by magical, mythical and outlandish characters, all of which you recognized from your everyday life. That is part of his magic. Good Omens, a book he wrote with Neil Gaiman, is a favourite of mine and a book I've read many times and have had to buy several copies of after loaning out and losing; not that I'm moaning, mind, I've several books on my shelves whose origins I'm unsure of, or am sure of.  I met him once at a book signing, his hand resting on a bag of frozen peas; even at such a draining and, what must be, tedious events for writers, he remained a joy. We chatted briefly, I extolled his works in fan boy style, whilst he smiled politely.  Then he looking us up and down, I was carrying one of my children in a papoose at the time, he signed the book above. Nice touch. Pratchett once wrote “Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?” Though his books he'll continue to bring us joy and in that he'll indeed live on.

Highland spring

On Highland water again, this time lower down amongst the majestic stands of Great Huntley Bank. That small narrow stream I walked along a few days back has grown into a proper water course and in a couple of miles will become a river. The forest streams have hardly run high at all this winter and already plenty of gravel banks are exposed. I hope this wont bear ill for the forest, these last few years have the forest swing between extremes of wet and extremes of dry; extremes are never good, they lead damage of one sort or another. Still, to dwell too much on what could be is never good and today a gentle sun shone through the stands as all nature stirs with springs whisper; it's time to wake up. 

Tree stack

I love finding odd stuff out in the woods, it poses questions and allows your mind to wander off into a myriad of possibilities. Here wood has been stacked off the ground in a stunted gnarly tree. I could only imagine that the wood has been placed there in order to keep it off the ground and dry for future burning, although storing it flat, as it is, would mean it would get wetter and stay wetter than if stored upright or at an acute angle. When I create wood caches for fire practices or fuel for the ghillie, mind, they're all smaller than this one, I tend to wrap them in a bark outer, if available, and store at an acute angle. I've found this to be a successful method of keeping the wood store dry, even after episodes of rain. It could be that I'm wrong and that there is another purpose, or maybe there's no purpose at all other than passing the time. I wonder what people think if they come across the things I leave. 

Wooden eddies

Everywhere you look the woods are full of shapes and textures, there's a riot going all about you. It all moves in cycles, big ones, little ones, long and short ones; now's a great time to be out there as a new cycle begins. You can feel nature ramping up.  Though it's not just new life that offers us spectacle; even on decaying trees, whose cycle is coming to an end, who have long since seen summers cloths and whose outer bark has already returned to the earth, wooden eddies flow out of and along their heartwood creating wonderful shapes and textures. Even though long dead, the ancient woodland leviathans still bring wonder the woodland. Isn't nature marvelous!

Lucas Castle

There's no castle at Lucas Castle, it's just a prominent knoll to which the imagination of a past forester attached suggestion of a history that never was. Though running below it is Highland Water, whose origins flow from beneath a real historic site, the Second World War Stoney Cross Airfield. The stretch of water below Lucas castle is about a mile and a half down stream from the airfield and by now is beginning to broaden into a proper stream. Bound by narrow fringes of mixed woodland and scrub, the waters babble and bubble as they meander over gravel beds and blockages of winters wooden detritus. Close your eyes and listen, it's not long before the streams hypnotic song begins to take you; if you were laying down it wouldn't be long before you were in the land of dreams. It maybe sunny, but not warm enough for any of that today, though if it was I couldn't promise I wouldn't take the opportunity to nap. Ponies glance up from the cud and Deer disappear into cover, although we pose no threat, they aren't stupid, they know humans. Though probably don't see them much through here; but that's how I like it, walking where others rarely do, following animal tracks and finding those magical spots.

Frog spawn

I've not seen much frog spawn about this year.

Purbeck Oak

Walking new paths always leads to new discoveries, discoveries like this mature Oak tucked away in woodland a boundary, positioned on the confluence of two hillside streams. I've not come across any trees of this age before in Purbeck, I'm sure there are some, just I've never found them. This gnarly fellow, at about 5.5m in circumference, so, say 350 years old, sprouting from its acorn about the time of the English Civil War. Lovely find.

Filling the gaps

Todays walk continued my ongoing mission to walk all the footpaths in Purbeck and fill in all the gaps in my mental map of the place. Clouds scud across the sky as the battle between winter and spring wends on, but in middling, when the beams of the sun, freed from the cloud, rake the land and you feel the growing warmth, you know it's only a matter of time before the battles won. Another lovely day exploring the hills and valley, along field edges, through woodland and along little traveled paths. So little traveled sometimes, that they're so neglected they're hard to define and follow.  Never a chore though, no.  Every new path illuminates another aspect of the landscape, another view, another secret place is discovered. There is just something about this land. There's a timelessness that transports you. It's a joy to immerse yourself and find yourself outside of time for a while. 

Bottle garden

Walking through the woods, the floor is an almost uniform brown colour, deeply decked in last seasons old clothes.  Lost in thought my eye is suddenly caught by a flash of shiny green which almost shouts at you from amongst the subdued hues. Brushing away the leafs reveals an ad hoc bottle garden, where a plant has taken advantage of the micro climate created by someones thoughtless detritus. Nature's great, and so ingenious, taking advantage of any and all niche opportunities. I cleared back the leafs and cleaned, as well I could, the bottle and will visit again to see how this tiny world is doing.   

Sci fi sky

After a mixed day of bright skies and heavy showers at sundown the sky erupted into vibrant colour in a way which reminded me of sci fi movies of old, and one in-particular, 1977's Damnation Alley. Damnation Alley was also immortalized in a Hawkwind song of the same name, in which is the line 'The sky's on fire from the nuclear flash', I wonder if this is what it would look like? I don't really want to find out though mind, as I fear burning skies would be far from the worst of it.