Primrose

A bit tattered and worn, but these are first Primroses I've seen this year.

St Andrews Church

Nestled up in a slight wooded valley above Church Ope Cove, and under the gaze of the 15th century ruins of Rufus Castle (whose origins lie much earlier in the 12th century) are the ruins St Andrews Church, itself 12th century built on the site of an earlier Saxon church. There are lots of interesting features to see: the footprint of the churches walls, all standing about a meter of so high and a variety of old grave stones and tombs, although the most striking is the 15th arch which was a feature of the churches tower.  Even at this time of the year it disappears amongst the encroaching undergrowth, in the summer it must look quite magical, all a bit Lords of the Ringsy really.

Up above the streets and houses...

Up above the streets and houses rainbow climbing high, everyone can see it smiling over the sky, paint the whole world with a rainbow.  Who remembers 'Rainbow'?  Todays rainbow climbed up above the redundant King Barrow quarry stone heaps. As the sun sunk behind the clouds in the west, a rainbow appeared in the east. Nice.

Modern stone setting

High on the Isle of Portland is this stone setting, in nature and appearance it looks not dissimilar to the stone rows and circles found on the Scottish Isles, although it's of no antiquity at all. This stone row is a modern art installation, part of Tout Quarry, a disused stone quarry turned into a sculpture park.  Modern or not, I like it.  I'm very much in favour of creating more contemporary stone and earth settings and features, be they for memorial/monumental use (as with the new long barrow build in Wiltshire) or for contemporary ritual/ceremonial practice or whatever, to party in/at. Things with some meaning. I follow a pagan path and as much as I cherish our connection with the ancestors and their associated monuments, I feel that if we are to move forward we have to start creating our own sites, or we exist, in some ways, only as a shadow of the past.  Don't get me wrong, I love our archaeological site, but you can't 'use' them any more, can't experience them as our ancestors did,  sites must be tiptoed around and revered/respected. What we understand from many archaeological sites is that as well as ritual, there was partying, there was life and the sites were alive. We can respect our past, and live wholly in the now, whilst building for future folk to use. What would be ideal is, as our ancestors did, re-use/re-model the sites of our forebears; with respect, of course.  Sites need to be used, or they become hollowed out museum pieces, devoid of life and spirit. But that wont happen, for many reasons I can well appreciate.  So we need to build new sites and fill them with life. I'd be interested to know whether these stones share any significant alignments or are merely decorative.  Either way very cool.

Tout Quarry Park

Tout Quarry covers an area of about 40 acres, an old stone quarry originating from 1750, it was last quarried in 1982; in some parts you can still see the cart/tram marks in the rock, where stone was transported from the site. Since 1983 Tout Quarry has been a sculpture park and nature reserve. I believe there are over 70 sculptures and carvings scattered amongst its labyrinth of ravines and winding gullies. I've only spent a short time exploring and have yet to find many of the pieces. In the summer I may have to bring supplies and spend a whole day exploring to see if I can't find them all.  The works range from small line carvings, rough faces which emerge out of the rocks, shapes, textures and all manner of oddities, to much larger pieces like the rebuilt 'Lanos' Arch'.  Some of the quarry is easily accessible, a broad path winds through, with smaller paths and sets of concrete/stone steps leading off it. Although beyond the paths it becomes arduous to say the least.  Still, if you're in the area it's worth a gander.

Gnawed Beech

The New Forest ponies have been hungry this winter as this gnawed Beech stands testament to. Normally a tree will survive a little gnawing, but on this level, I'm not so sure. I can't remember seeing so much extensive gnawing as I've seen this winter. Yeah, I regularly see it, but this year I've seen several trees like this one, a sight that in previous years I was unfamiliar with. I wonder if this is just natural, you know, some years they chew more than others, or is there something else happening and is it connected with our wider environmental changes. 

American graffiti

More American graffiti amongst the stands of Cranborne Chase, the nature of which leads me to believe it to have been cut during the war years 1941-1945 and is testament to US service personnel being stationed in the region, probably in the lead up to the D-Day invasion. 

January Moon

This evening the first full moon of 2016 showed herself periodically from behind the shifting blanket of damp cloud. I'd wondered whether I'd get to have a fire this evening or not, but at the last minute the elements gave their blessing and the rains stopped. Sitting out under the moon with a glass of brown liquor, fire blazing and listening to Todd Rundgrens' 'Healing', I let my mind drift and found it soon bubbling with ideas; the Awen really flowed tonight. An inspiring evening was had.

If I could only have album (on my desert island or some such) then it would be Todd Rundgrens 'Healing', and if I could only listen to one side it would be side two, there's something magical and moving about those three tracks and the journey they take you on. I find it does what its name suggests, facilitates and promotes healing.

Here's a link to side two of Todd Rundgrens' 'Healing', sit back and enjoy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUk1CTLeuLE

Return of the mack

Well, that didn't last long. Our frosty reprieve was short lived and the forest is once again returned to dank. Dank, the worst of weather. Even the resolute forest ponies, appeared to have a forlorn look on the faces. It starts to rain again; oh, joy.  Hey, I don't mind the rain really, and know it's essential to green and pleasant land, although when it's set in, it can be a bit of a bummer. The filigree of rivulets that extend into the upland headwaters of the forest streams flow vigorously again and the clay soils beneath the leaf litter suck at your boots, so saturated is the land. It's at times like these in the forest when you're reminded how the wilderness of bogs, thick woodlands and heaths in the forest must have represented a foreboding landscape in past times, and what a task it would have been to traverse it.

The old man of the woods

I went to check on one of my favourite trees today, 'The Old Man of Pinnick Wood', also known as the 'Illustrated Tree'. Old and gnarled, I always approach with trepidation, worried that he wont of survived the last storm and will be found humbled on the ground. Not so today though. A little the worse for wear as time takes its toll and the natural course of entropy marches on. Still, he's a wonder to behold, and time spent inspecting him is always worth while as his gnarled surfaces are a myriad of shapes and patterns it's easy to loose yourself in.

The lonesome Pine

The Sun sinks slowly in the west cast an orange hue across the land as to the east a nearly full Moon rises in the clear blue sky over open forest, open all but for the occasional isolated tree. In this case the tree in question, is a lonesome Pine.

Gorse

I used to worry when I saw Gorse flowering in the winter, worried that it was a sign of impending climate doom. And, although the climate may be doomed, gorse flowering isn't a sign of it. Then I discovered that there are several species of subtly different Gorse, and that Gorse can be found in flower somewhere at any time of the year.  Gorse (Ulex) is a spiky evergreen shrub, very common across most British environments and is a useful plant in many ways. In harsh winters livestock will forage for Gorse, the forest ponies particularly enjoy the regrowth from forestry Gorse burning. Humans too can enjoy the flowers in salads, or as Hobbit and I used to do, make a very palatable white flower wine of it. Best picked for wine in Spring, when as the sun begins to warm the land the heady aroma of coconut created by the Gorse flowers fills the air. Beautiful. Just thinking about it reminds me of the joys of foraging and wine making, and drinking. If you've ever burnt Gorse you'll know it burns fast and fierce and in many regions it was utilized to heat bread ovens, being very sustainable and being invasive, easy to cultivate. It's wood is durable and weather resistant, and being tight grained and non toxic is good for spoon whittling.  All round a useful plant, although I'd imagine now much overlooked.  

Mudeford sunset #6

I thought I may have caught a more dramatic sunset this evening, the skies had given me that impression. Although, just as the crucial moment approached cloud appeared on the horizon and stole the sunset. It seems it is their way at this time of year, as they appear to do it with some frequency. Still, you know how I cherish every sunsets uniqueness, and tonight had its own beauty. The muted coloured sky silhouetting Hengistbury Head and the harbour birds. All good. 

Yellow Brain Fungus

Yellow Brain Fungus (Tremella mesenterica).  Yellow Brain Fungus can be yellow as its name suggests, although often you'll find it this rich tangerine orange colour and does remind you of the folds in a brain. I commonly see it growing on mature, even old/dying gorse trunks. It's not edible. Though does add colour to drab shrub, especially when growing in numbers.

Is that you Jack?

This is more like it. After what seems an eternity of dankness, over cast skies filled with threatening clouds who've frequently carried out their threats, the sky today is clear. A clear blue sky and air so clean and fresh, it's a joy to breath in.  And it looks like Jacks been about, the leaf litter and the blades of taller grasses all bejewelled with his icy sprinklings. This is what you want from winter, crisp air, clear skies and a crispness under foot. Long may it continue.

I support the NHS

The British NHS is amazing and the envy of much of the world, although successive governments have sought to undermine it, underfund it and implemented policies of creeping privatization to completely destroy it. We talk a lot here in Britain about our national pride, rule Britannia and all that guff. But when looked at it in a cold light there are very few things to be proud of: rising child poverty, spiraling homelessness, growing inequality, social care cutbacks, attacks on the poor and disabled. Are we 'really' proud of that? Of illegal conflicts, dodgey arms deals, corporate excess and exploitation, or our support for numerous despots. I'm not. But I am proud of our NHS, of a cradle to grave assurance of high quality free healthcare for all. The government want to take this from us, sell it off in chunks, just as they have our other public services and national assets. We're faced with a stark choice. The NHS, verses, the American style commercialized horror story of health care? Millions exluded from medical care. An NHS free at the point of use for everyone, inclusive and beautiful or a privatized system where if you can't pay you suffer or die, and even if you can pay, you'll be in hock for the rest of your lives. If you have to think about it there's something wrong with you. Support the NHS and its staff!

One to beam up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqHsJ3Xu5cg

I wasn't a David Bowie mega fan or aficionado by any stretch, though his music has always been there in the soundtrack to my life, with the album above being in my 10 albums to take to my desert island or off into space.  Bowie first came to my attention in the late 70's (although I was vaguely aware of him prior, not for his music more for his image) as the mum of a school friend (Greg) had an extensive album collection of his, she was an aficionado. I remember Gregs house was not to far from school and we'd frequently skive off, return to his and listen to Bowie amongst others. I remember being taken by the imagery on the covers as well as the music, I didn't understand why, but I understood that Bowie was different. I love his voice and his lyrical artistry, and that ability to exist just beyond the bleeding edge, ever evolving, changing and to do so with such confidence and finesse; puts me in mind of these Todd lyrics ''Some people don't seem real at all. Unafraid of any mountain. Sure that the gods won't let him fall. Should he fall, he will always get up again.'', seems rather appropriate for an artist so willing to explore and embrace change. Listening to 6music today, it was amazing how many outstanding songs he wrote, in so many different styles and how influential he and his work are. As well as how many snippets of his lyrics I know.  Music will always be richer for him and his contribution.

Down and out

 And the hills they are hollow and home to the Fey, 

Who dance on Midsummer's Eve, 

Some people don't understand when I say, 

These are the things I believe.

Damh the Bard

Well these hill, whether still home to the Fey or not are certainly hollow. Like so many Bronze Age burial mounds these two on Martin Down near Bokerley Dyke show the scars of having been robbed out, historically. Many of these ancient monuments have legends associated with them, and many of those legends would have included stories of items of great wealth buried within. It could have been looters of any period, although more likely it was early antiquarians, and though the latter may have been the precursor to modern archaeologists their motivations shared more than a passing similarity to those of the the looters. Just described in more noble terms. Look at the collections in the British museums, a lot of that stuff wasn't donated, if you get my drift. And the moral of this I thought? Well, that nothing is sacred, nothing magical, nothing taboo and that all believes go out the window when there's capital, monetary or cultural involved. We can be quite shallow animals really.

Hengistbury sunset

As the colour drained from the day, it took with it what little warmth had been afforded by the young sun. The young suns rays were enough though to ward off the chill breeze that swirled the notion of winters presence around Hengistbury Head. For that I was grateful, as was I for the clear sky and fresh air after what seems like weeks of mainly grey, weirdly warm, dankness. Although, with the sun gone it felt like winter proper now, which cold as it was, was as it should be, I know; but that didn't stop me making haste off the head as twilight fell.

Hawkwing

It's funny how your mind works. I came across this naked oak reflected in one of the pools of water which have turned Camel Green into a poor mans Everglades, immediately I was put in mind of the Hawkwind logo. Just something about it

Barton clouds

I never get tired of clouds. Well, that's not strictly true, the blankets of grey which cover us with dank and misery, I get tired of them. But more frequently on the occasions when the sky becomes a canvas for a fluid installation of colour, light and form, then I can always find the time to take in the show. I love a bit of cloud, me. 

Resilience

Well hard!

Sponge

Everything in nature is by design, if left to her own devices there's balance, everything works as it should. Topically, the forest today was a good example of how when land is allowed to fulfill it's nature and purpose flood risk to urban areas could be greatly reduced. In a recent article George Monbiot highlighted how a project to re-wild upland areas in Cumbria had been pulled, at the time with much applause from the local MP's, the same MP's who are currently wringing the hands over their flooded constituencies. Ah, the irony. Research and evidence clearly illustrate that re-wilding, planting trees, restoring the meanders in streams and letting land behave naturally, allow upland headwaters (and other green areas) and their environs to hold on to water; that water is then released slowly without the same levels of erosion and flooding down river. As I say 'by design'. Over the last 20 years a program to reintroduce bog woodland has been operating in the New Forest. Restoring the meandering streams to their pre-Victorian state (the Victorians straightened and dredged the forest streams to aid timber production), reducing their depth and blocking or filling many of the drains that fed them. The consequence being that the forest is now considerably wetter and holds on to its water for far longer.  In wet periods acres of heath and woodland are inundated.  Everywhere is water, and you can never be sure what you'll walk into. Only where you see movement can you identify  the course of a small stream or rivulet. At one point during our 'walk' today I saw an interesting sight.  The bottom photo shows what is usually a small meandering rivulet (a former straight dredged drain), no more that a metre wide and maybe 30cm deep. What was interesting was that it usually flows in the opposite direction out of the forest, although today it was flowing back into the forest and not out in the headwaters and streams. Theory in practice, I thought.  Rather that fighting nature, building futile defences or dredging, we need to look to nature and work with her. Step back in, and know our place.

The scream

Shout, shout, let it all out. I think this Beech is trying to tell us something.

Wet

It's a wet start to the new year.