Bench

Set on the exposed chalk grassland hillside of Martin Down is this memorial bench to a Dawn V Beedle on which are carved some fine words. 'Tread softly now the downland paths and let your spirit soar', Dawn V Beedle must have loved these downs. And why wouldn't you. Fine words indeed. It would surely be rude or disrespectful not to heed them.  So, I walked the downland paths, and indeed my spirit soared.  Autumn is turning to winter and with it the weather, chill winds raked the down over which the carrion birds hovered and crowed their songs, grey clouds threatened rain and even dropped a drip or two, and there was ever present that treat of worse weather lurking, that said, occasionally the Sun did brake through illuminating the landscape like a benevolently roaming Eye of Sauron, momentarily turning back time to late summer. Which was nice.  The land looks so bare, the woodlands skeletal. At this time of year every thing's opened up, you can see into those places, across and through those vistas which were shielded and shrouded at springs verdant growth. The last leaves are falling, as are any remaining fruits and you can feel that the land is taking a well deserved rest. There's beauty in all the seasons if you look.

Art for arts sake; Winter Solstice Card pt 2

I know it doesn't look that different from the previous sketch, but I've inked the all the outlines for this years winter solstice card and I'm quite pleased. I've kept with a familiar theme that I've used in previous years, although obviously a new interpretation, that being the new Sun born from the horns of the Moon. Now to begin the shading and filling in.

Golden Eye

A golden eye at sundown.

Art for arts sake; Winter Solstice Card pt 1

I am king of the procrastinators, master of the undone and lord of the left unfinished, and all round useless sod. I do a bit of drawing (I've posted some pieces before), I'm no master but I've always enjoyed it, though I've dozens of preliminary sketches, half drawn, un-inked pieces, not to mention the half painted pieces; one that's been left unfinished for maybe 10 years!  I thought I'd start posting some of the art I do, from sketch to finished work, in the hope that it would encourage me to work harder on completing the pieces I start.  So to start with here's the final pencil sketch for this years Solstice card (I try to do a Winter Solstice card each year) before inking.

Sterile

The sterile nature of the coniferous plantation.

Late parasol

A late Parasol mushroom (Macrolepiota procera), their season being July to November this will no doubt be one of the last, especially with the arrival of frost. Good specimen though. 

St Aldhelm's pastel sunset

And the day ended with a pastel sunset. Which was nice.

Memorial

As I've previously mentioned the decent and ascent from the under-cliff of St Aldhelm's Head is somewhat sketchy, though someone has undertaken it to create this quite striking memorial to 'TMKB 1942 -2014'. Simple, but effective. A nice gesture from someone for someone, in a nice place too. I wonder who they were?

St Aldhelm's Head

The under cliff at St Aldhelm's Head is a strange and unique landscape of boulders and blocks, scree slopes and gnarly  windswept shrubs (many of which have razor sharp thorns) brambles and grasses. A mixture of natural processes and quarry workings, now long deserted and being retaken slowly by nature. It's a rugged and unforgiving piece of land, exposed to all that the elements can through at it and the sea off it the scene of many a shipwreck, although on a sunny day, even a cold one as today, it can appear mysterious and exotic, and quite captivating. Amongst the jumble the works of man can be found; a carved Purbeck stone ball, thick rusting cables trail from the workings down towards the shore like the remains of a giant spiders web, old water tanks, fragments of brickwork and concrete, all manner of human detritus is scattered about. Over the years I've seen these pieces of human pasts decay, disappear or be consumed by the undergrowth. It makes for an arduous walk, with plenty of scrambling about and a sketchy decent/ascent, but one which is well worth the effort. You'll often see deer wending one of the numerous animal tracks, but I don't remember ever seeing any other people there (although there's some evidence of other adventurous walkers) and you'd usually have the place to yourself. St Aldhelm's Head is a special place, for sure.

Ominous clouds on the horizon

As the day draws to a close, ominous dark clouds play on the horizon. This is the first view of proper sky in a few days and the first proper chance for a walk, though it doesn't look like it's going to last. Still, it's good to be out and getting some fresh air, and it's dry, the past few days have been grey, dank and wet enough to keep one inside, other than the obligatory constitutional.  That said, dark clouds have swept in behind me, is that spots of rain I feel?  

Eric 44

So, what can we surmise from 'Eric 44'? Well. The nature and scaring of the graffiti would suggest that '44' is the year in which it was cut, this I think is supported by the name 'Eric', common in the period, though rare when I was a child and non existent nowadays. Also 'Eric' suggests a male. In 1944 Steamer Point was under military control as a satellite site of Christchurch Airfield and Air Defence Research Establishment (later SRDE), evidence of some of the pillboxes defending the coastline of the area can still be seen just above the inter-tidal and others long removed. So we could assume that Eric was a soldier, either regular Army or conceivably Homeguard, maybe he was in the RAF or a member of ADRE, or even USAAF maybe. Eric was quite a common American name too and the 405th Fighter Group of the USAAF was station at Christchurch in 1944 and had their headquarters at Bure Homage House which was very nearby.  So, Eric was an allied male soldier/airman station her during the Second World War.

I'm feeling an American airman/aircrew of the 405th. The style of the '44' reminds me of other American graffiti I've come across left by American throughout the forest. I wonder how right or wrong, I am.  

Disappointment

The events in Paris are terrible, indiscriminate killings, lives truncated without warning, fear and hate manifest. That cannot be doubted or questioned.  Though the reaction of some people could be, and I've found it wanting. Disappointing. I'd say there's a 40/60 split. 40 percent of what I read on social media was compassionate, caring messages of regret, love and support. Although sadly about 60 percent of posts I read were knee jerk, xenophobic, right-wing or jingoistic.  People baying for blood and revenge, as misguided and delusional as the terrorists, both motivated by the base instincts, the only difference is one group have made good on their words to the extreme. Some posted both. And so the cycle continues, even spirals down a touch further as acts of hate feed and are used to justify acts of hate.  Always the innocents will suffer more than the guilty, and resolution remain distant.

We forget that this was, thankfully, a rare occurrence for the West, although this is life for much of the Middle East and North Africa, and has been for decades, in fact it's life for many around the world. That same day hundreds died in the Middle East and we said nothing, no out pourings, no one changed their profile picture. We looked away, we always look away; well that's not entirely fair, our corporatized media left us ignorant; willfully ignorant? Or is that too far.  And that's how it is and how it's always been, we are fed a highly editorialized, myopic, western centric view of world events. We are told that events 'over there' have nothing to do with us, that the weapons and the money which fuel terrorism just materializes out of the ether.  Far from the truth, but that's a whole can of worms on own. And I see that as the root cause of our empathic deficiency and plurality.

People can't seem to equate their shock, anger, fear and a gut need for retribution and revenge, with the very same emotional responses which fuel terrorism and are used by the terrorist recruiting sergeant. We have no empathy for 'others'. What happened in Paris was appalling, and the loss of life devastating, and that was one event, whereas in terms of loss and destruction, it pales in comparison with the daily loss of life to terrorism, or the war on terrorism, which occurs throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Only recently Western forces bombed a hospital, by mistake granted (although that will be cold comfort to the families of those who died in what to them is terrorism) and we just brushed it away, collateral damage, no justice. Just like the memes circulating in the West blaming refugees or migrants or Muslims on mass, for the death and destruction, those in the ravaged Middle East and North Africa blame the West on mass; of course neither are accurate, I and many others don't support the actions of the western military industrial complex, just as the majority of those in the Middle East and North Africa don't support extremism or acts of terrorism.  Really most are just ordinary people just like us who want none of it. But increasingly people don't want to or wont hear that, and that frightens me, people on all over the world are becoming entrenched.

I've noticed a growing polarization when you try and point these things out or call for unity, empathy and compassion rather than an escalation of hate you're subject to personal attack and accusations of being a terrorist sympathizer by those who already on the road to a form of radicalization themselves by far right extremism, whether they know it or not. There's little space for debate, you're either with us or against us, there's no place for anyone deploring terrorism and rejecting escalating military action. It's black and white, and we're the white...obviously. I'm sure it's similar in the Middle East and North Africa too for those who don't see everybody in the West as culpable enemies as described by those radicalized by extremism, just in reverse. I despise and deplore terrorism of all types, against anybody/thing, be individual, group or state sponsored, but blaming and stigmatizing or demonizing whole swathes of innocent people is not the answer and only serves the fuel hate, fear and division. Say that though and , as I've said, you're shouted down as either a sympathist, a traitor or just plain weak.  How many innocents will die or suffer as a consequence of the innocents who died and suffered in Paris? Horror will beget horror, ad infinitum.

I don't know the answer or even the path to the answer, but I do know that if we want a better world, a good start would be to ensure that liberté, égalité, fraternité are global and manifest for ALL in more than just words.

Old Hazel stool

I'm guessing that this old grown out Hazel stool was last coppiced around 75 years ago, it's one of several in the copse behind Knoll beach. They're fairly large and I suspect they'd have been managed for some years before the war, though, the war would have put an end to that management. The area was closed off at the beginning of the war, then due to exercises too dangerous to access through the war and beyond for years after until the dangers of unexploded ordinance had been removed. By then the land use had changed as had the need for coppiced materials, and the area became one of recreation rather than production. They're find old trees and I'm certain that re-cut they would once again become productive, a sustainable resource too. 

Harbour sunset

A gentle sunset over the exposed sand and mudflats of low tide Poole harbour, although the weather wizards suggest bad weather is on its way.

Compare and contrast

Compare and contrast the condition of these two Second World War coastal gun battery sites at Studland; two of several I'd add, although there is no trace of the others.  The top one is up on Redend Point, in front of Fort Henry, still in very good condition, even sporting evidence its original camouflage. Whereas the second photo is all the remains of an identical (I assume, as the army usually worked from standard Ministry of Works designs, unless tactical or geographical considerations necessitated otherwise) Second World War coastal gun battery situated amongst the back of the dunes beyond Knoll Beach. The former is where on April 18th 1944 military, political and royal dignitaries including Winston Churchill, King George VI and General Dwight D. Eisenhower watched life fire exercise 'Smash' the largest live fire exercise of the whole war. Whereas the later was 'in' the area of the largest life fire exercise of the whole war. Enough said.

Wartime detritus

Following on from Wednesdays post regarding remembering and forgetting, there is of course another dimension to this, and that's, not knowing in the first place. Often, unless curious, people only know the editorialized abridged version of events and times, and that can make events appear distant and impersonal. Take the Second World War, we all know about the Second World War, don't we. Or do we? It's our history, that one we hark on about at times of national insecurity or jingoistic need. Though, on the whole, we really know very little about it especially the local war. As with history in general, we're told about the big events and personalities, but not the myriad of smaller events and masses of people behind them. Take Studland Beach for example. A beautiful dune backed beach stretching west from Poole harbour up to the Purbeck Hills and the beginnings of the Jurassic coast; a haven for wildlife, holiday makers and naturalists, a couple of miles of tranquil sands and a pleasure to walk in any season. Though during the Second World War Studland was a restricted area, heavily defended against invasion, and later a weapons testing and training area;  hosting a life fire exercise as big as, possibly bigger than, the well known one a Slapton Sands in Devon. You'd never know the area saw years of frenetic military action. Well, you will if look a bit harder. Amongst the dunes concrete scatters and crumbling remains indicate pillboxes, gun emplacements and anti tank obstacles; barbed wire pickets and trench-works litter the landscape along with Sommerfeld track and all manner of wartime oddities. Look harder again and you see some areas are covered in small fragments of shell, rocket, barbed wire, or as in the picture .303cal metal jacketed projectiles (other calibers too, I've found .303, 9mm and 45cal cartridges). Studland was the site of vital and unique wartime activities (about I will post more another time), but as I say, to the casual walker it would just appear a beautiful natural landscape. I wonder how many people walking there know any of that; that said, in recent years some info has been put up at Fort Henry overlooking middle beach. Though, I'm sure in years to come Studlands wartime service will be all but forgotten. It is the nature of things I suppose.

Have we forgotten?

Have we forgotten? I think we have. No, I know we have. We've forgotten about their sacrifice and what was built on that sacrifice, we've forgotten the better fairer world and life for which people hoped, which people died for. All about us the edifices of that better world, built on sacrifice, are being torn down by the ideological ambitions of the establishment which still sends people to fight and die in their wars of commerce and conquest. After WW2 the establishment only conceded to the ambitions of the people through fear of the unity of the people forged in the war. The welfare state, social housing, education, the NHS, all the public services which make life in this country were built and are the living legacy of the fallen.  Sadly they too are being forgotten.

Remembrance of sacrifice has been replaced by jingoism, national obedience, a reduction in liberty and freedom and of course war, there's always war; what happened to 'lest we forget' and 'never again'. That better world bought in blood, where was was a thing of the past, where the vulnerable were to be supported, a job meant security, a secure affordable home was available to everyone who needed one, free education and free health for all is being sold to the detriment of the people, who are being thrown to the wolves.

Still we're supposed to wear our poppies with pride, and keep our mouths shut.

We see remembrance sponsored by arms manufacturers, children wearing 'future soldier' t shirts and remembrance used by the establishment and their media mouthpieces to solicit support for current and future conflicts. Is this what the fallen would want? To be used to propagate more war dead. I think not. Our public services are their monuments, 365 days a year they serve to remind us and we remember, not one day a year for the cameras at the cenotaph followed by a slap up VIP lunch. The hypocrisy and bullshit of it all stinks so high I'm surprised we've not all got pegs on our noses. Why do people still buy into this corrupted paradigm of peace, it symbolizes nothing of the sort; and if you challenge it, man, people have a mental and accuse you of disrespect.  Every one must wear a poppy, anyone on TV MUST wear a poppy or face pillory from the media, the extreme right use the poppy in memes to bolster their hate campaigns and rampant nationalism of the worst kind is encouraged.

Is that what the fallen would want? Is it fuck!

If we want to remember the fallen, remember them, by all means give money to support veterans charities (I certainly do), buy a homeless veteran a meal (remember, there's certainly enough of them at about 10,000), keep the war graves of the fallen tended, but most important of all don't let their sacrifice be for nothing, fight to protect their true legacy.  Remember them every day through that.

Wrong

It's nearly midnight in November and I've just walked the dog comfortably in T shirt and shorts. Wrong, just wrong.

Skeletal stands

Skeletal stands in the mist.

Resignation

The ponies of the forest always appear so resigned to their lot. They are a dignified beast.

Jelly bellies

There were about 3 dozen or so Barrel Jellyfish (Rhizostoma pulmo) of varying sizes washed ashore along Studland Beach and Shell Bay. They look like jelly filled plastic carrier bags with jelly tentacles and are said to have a sting similar to stinging nettles. Normally these plankton feeders would be found far off shore, though they can be encouraged in shore by warm weather and plankton blooms or forced by storms. But we're nearly in to winter and there haven't been any significant storms. Of course, although as I say we're in November and on the cusp of winter, it is unseasonably warm, so must I assume that these Barrel Jellyfish are another anomaly caused by climate change.

Look and you can find

Wander off the designated path, look beyond and through the undergrowth and it's amazing the secret tucked away spots you can find.  A small stream, a rivulet really, empties across the sands at Middle beach, it doesn't look much and soon disappears into a mass of nettle, bramble and thorn. You pass by and it's soon forgotten, if you noticed it at all.  But if you're prepared to find away through or around the jumbled spiky obstacles you'll find the stream runs through an interesting valley and this groovy gorge cut through the local sandstone. It's quite impressive for where it is, made more so as it's so unexpected. It's always worth making that little extra effort. You never know what you'll find.

Tanglewood wetland

I always think this type of tangled carr woodland hold an eerie air of mystery and is tinged with fear. Navigating expanses of carr woodland without a compass or clear skies must be near impossible; disorientating mentally and physically. Terrifying. It's the type of landscape you find in fantasy novels or the location for a horror film. A landscape often populated by beasts and monsters, through which heroic bands inevitable need to travel and you're always warned to stay clear of, you know, the 'there be dragons' type place. A landscape you'd find yourself in if you'd taken the wrong turning, then it began to rain, you're car broke down and you were sure you saw something move out there amongst the twisted stands.

First Sunset

The first sunset of the new year (Celtic new year that is) that I've seen. Of course it's the 7th today, so there have been previous sunsets, although all have been obscured by clouds.

Pigs

The clouds broke today, so I grabbed the opportunity to get out for a walk; I'm so used to getting out regularly that being cooped up for too long does me in. In the forest Pannage continues and for some reason the pigs were a touch skittish this afternoon. At first the pigs ran off on mass (making quite a racket) at my approach, when previously they'd reacted with interest or nonchalance, and then all of a sudden they became feisty and ran on mass at me, chasing me through the stands. Maybe they're drunk on acorns.

The road to Wigan pier

I felt reading The road to Wigan pier by George Orwell that I was simultaneously looking backwards and forwards in time. Looking backwards as Orwell describes a 1930's Britain so unlike our stereotype images of a Britain populated by Mr Chumbly-Warners, cucumber sandwiches and fair play; the idealized Britain of which the establishment dream of returning. Orwell describes 1930's Britain as divided between the the poverty stricken working class masses, living in poor housing, suffering the effects of inadequate employment and unemployment and those employed working hard for little; and the middle and upper classes who on the whole looked down on the working class and poor, seeing them (if they saw them at all) as the architects of their own situations and cause of many national or social woes. In many respects little has changed, the Daily Mail was full of hateful shite, the more fortunate looked down on the less fortunate, though for most part people looked away. There were of course still communities back them, which was a bonus and on the whole things were slowly on the move up, the working classes were getting organized, there was diversity in media and people had their eye on a better future (which would arrive after the Second World War). If you like, the antithesis of Britain now as we slide into the past. It's a frightening that Orwells depiction of poor 1930's Britain is the Britain to which the establishment will have us return.

It has become clear to me that the hard won social justices bought by the suffering of the First World War and the realizations of the depression (the dole, allotments gardens and corporation housing) and those of the Second World War (like the NHS and other public services; of which of course Orwell would have known nothing of) were merely a temporary concession by the ruling establishment, a reaction to the rise of socialism, of unionization and a more aware working class; now the memories have faded, union membership is dwindling and the ruling elites are stripping our public services and preparing to return their boots to the necks of the less fortunate. I challenge anyone reading The road to Wigan pier to say that they didn't feel the fear rising up in them as they turned the pages, and realization that this is where the establishments right wing ideological policies are leading us. 

Misty

Mists muffled the damp stands of Brinken Wood this morning and every thing felt subdued. On a morning like this, with the forest all closed down and still, you can feel Winter stalking, waiting to lay claim to the naked land. With every walk the forest becomes increasingly bare as the canopies begin to thin and the carpet of fallen leaves deepens. Damp clings to everything, the trees, the grass, the ponies, me, everything; that said, there's a fresh, clean quality to the air.  Throughout Brinken the seasonal channels and pools are beginning to fill, the streams flow fuller and walking a straight path is becoming more interesting. Not that I'm complaining. Each season has their own purpose, their own beauty. Or rather each season should have its own identity, although increasingly they are being lost in the chaos of climate change. And that is Sad. But when it's right you seem to feel it and knowing it's right you instinctively embrace it. That's how it was today.