Nipple Hill

I passed Wingreen Hill on my return from Devon this afternoon. I'd been on a mercy mission for a chum (or in this case chump) who'd locked his keys in his van at Kozfest. Easily done, especially at a psychedelic rock festival. As I climbed up Zig Zag Hill, up onto downs Wingreen was silhouetted against the sky in the distance. The afternoon sky was azure blue and dappled with light wispy cloud, the ripening downs landscape was bathed in the rich colours afforded by the summer sun. Lovely! So prominent on the horizon, and so clearly visible for miles around, Wingreen has always been a feature to orientate yourself by. Even if a landscape feature already has an established name, still we tend to assign them our own, so it is with Wingreen, known to our family as 'Nipple Hill'. Seeing landscape, as I do, as a physical manifestation of the Goddess, it's curves, it's hills and valleys, 'Nipple Hill' seemed an appropriate name. 

Hoverfly

I initially jumped at the sight of this (Volucella zonaria) Hoverfly, thinking it was something more stingy. (Volucella zonaria) is one of the largest Hoverflies in the UK. This beastie, along with a plethora of over flapping, buzzing, hovering insects was feasting on our buddleia davidii, the garden is alive in the sun.

I hate fairyland! by Skottie Young Vol1: Madly ever after

I enjoy a good graphic novel, and 'Madly ever after', Volume 1 of Skottie Youngs, 'I hate fairyland', is a really good graphic novel, a visual feast of colour and form, wittily written and drawn by Skottie Young. I was drawn in by the brightly coloured cover depicting the psychotic main character Gertrude, a mix of old school comic styles with a touch of the grotesque. Skottie's take on the traditional 'fairyland' story is funny and refreshing, a simple comic story of a girl whose wish to go to fairyland comes true, although having been trapped there now for 27 years, unable to find the key to her return, she's gone a touch mental and has become the feared scourge of that magical land. Something has to be done, and Queen Cloudia of Fairyland has a plan. As I say, a rich brightly coloured visual feast, a brilliant read which I highly recommend. I can't wait for Volume 2!

Honeysuckle

As I walk each season, each has something new and unique to offer, something of its own and something that, for me, punctuates and symbolizes that period of the year. Now is the time of the Honeysuckle (Lonicera periclymenum), also known as 'Woodbine'. During the day you can pass its delicate flowers, hidden amongst the developing verdance, without noticing them, but come evening time and their heavenly scent is unmistakable.  Rich and sweet, to stop and smell a flower or two is a feast for your nose, and sends the mind soaring. For flowers so understated, they really pack a fragrant punch. 

Chase Avenue

Chase Avenue.

Cleft Oak

A cleft Oak we came across on our way across Rotherley Down, it was quite hollow, though still very sturdy, and inside it several juvenile Beef Steak fungi (Fistulina hepatica) were growing. Nice tree.

Out in the Chase

The Chase is beautiful, her exposed hills and secluded wooded valleys, a secret landscape for the intrepid walker to explore. I love this land. When people ask 'do you love your country?' I answer 'of course!', though I'm being disingenuous. I know what they mean, and it's not what I'm answering 'of course' to. They mean the jingoistic ideas of patriotism, which mean little to me beyond a currently prevalent and uncomfortable narrative espoused by many. When I say I love my country, I mean I love the country, the land. I understand it, I know what I'm looking at, I know where to look for things, I feel part of it. When I have explained myself to those asking me 'do you love your country?' they look confused as if I'm speaking in tongues. Weird. 

I digress though, where was I, ah yes, the Chase. Her paths wind through a landscape steeped in history, rich in myth and legend. Our earliest ancestors favoured this landscape, remains of their activities dot the land, some easily spotted, whilst others stay hidden in the long grass and sturdy clumps of shrub. For years archaeologists who explored the prehistoric monuments of the Chase ignored the sensory experiences of ancient people, how they would have related to the landscapes they walked, and how that would have influenced the siting of their monuments. It's an area of archaeology I find fascinating which was first popularized by Christopher Tilley's A Phenomenology of Landscape published in 1994. I like to think they'd have possibly experienced the land in some ways similarly to how I do, although they'd have felt it much more immediately and far deeper that I could, our modern world being so removed from our nature. 

Through the stands of the expansive Chase wood we walked through summers glory, insects buzzed from flower to flower (and there were plenty of flowers), the canopy was alive with birds, things rustled in the undergrowth and occasionally we caught a glimpse of deer deeper in the shade. The fecundity of the land is so apparent, her bounties manifest. It was cooler in the dappled light of the stands, not so when we emerged into the open, where the sun beat down with that weird unnatural intensity common these days.  Outside the woodland in the bright light we could see birds of prey gliding above the canopy, circling for prey, occasionally giving an eerie screech. Majestic birds. We made our way down the hillside, through steep sided valleys and along hard reflective chalk paths, until we reached Tollard Royal, a small hamlet nestled in a valley, with a fine pub, The King John. After a brief stop for apple based refreshment and a spot of boot repair, we returned to our walk and began the climb back up onto the downs. Through ripening fields and past strangely contorted trees, the long tough downland grasses grabbing at our boots, we made our way. It was hard going, especially after the pub, but the views, man, the views were something else. Finally we reached the top of the downs and photo above is what we looked out upon and what we'd walked through. Magnificent. Our return was back through Chase Wood, this time along Chase Avenue, a double avenue of mature beech. Hot and tiring, moving slower now, the shade was welcomed, as was the sight of journeys end. 14 miles of outstanding beauty, you can't beat it. That's the country I love.

Full Moon

Full Moon, I saw you standing alone. The full moon rises in a rainbow hued sky over Mudeford spit. Nice. I never forget how blessed I am to live in an area of such outstanding natural beauty. Full Moon blessing y'all.

Avon causeway

This evenings light gave the River Avon at the causeway a beautiful golden hue. I stopped and stared, transfixed by the sumptuous scene before me, it really was beautiful. We used to swim in this section of the river, the corners were deep, though for the most part the river in shallow here, only waist high. Then people got grumpy with us swimming there, so that was that. What's wrong with folk? We moan and whinge about the unimportant, whilst simultaneously ignoring the glaringly important. I think it comes from feeling powerless to effect the big stuff and a need to feel empowered. Still, lovely evening for a cycle.

Sweet light

Sweet light through the stands at the moment.  Its been nice taking evening walks through the forest, the late light is warm and soft, casting long shadows along the woodland fringes. Beautiful. The interior, mind, where the light fails to penetrate is far cooler and darker. It's quieter too. The quiet coupled with the shoulder high bracken lends itself to an air of mystery, where the occasional rustle or distant screech conjures mental images of childhood fairy tales, or 70's Hammer movies. Best not dwell on imagined horrors though, make your way back out to the fringes and those last warming rays of the day. Ah, that's better. Nice.

Fire sky

There was an intenseness to tonights sunset as seen from Spy Holms, as if a huge fire raged on the horizon. It was brief though, the colours developed quickly, blazed brightly and faded just as quickly. Nature is generous with her sunsets, as she is with other aspects of her bounty, but you need to be observant or you'll miss too often miss them. 

Wood ants

A colony of Wood Ants (Formica ......, I'm not sure which specific type of Wood Ant) appear to have collected the flowing buds of nearby spruce trees and surrounded their nest with them. The purpose of this I'm not sure, if there is one, maybe it's just that the buds were a handy building material and have graded themselves through weathering, whatever, it does make for visually interesting image, particularly in its moss green setting. 

Survivors

It appears my earlier belief that all of the apple blossom had suffered from 'fire blight' or 'Apple blossom weevils' and wouldn't be fruiting, was a a little previous. Only a little, mind. I counted at least a dozen young apples, not enough for my planned cider making, although enough for snack or two whilst out walking the hound.  It may not be many, still, it's nice to see some survivors, I don't like to think of fruit trees failing completely.

Tranquillity

Some evenings everything is just right in the forest, so it was for tonights walk. The sun still shone as we strolled through Brinken Wood, its rays just warming, though starting to fade as it sank towards the horizon, casting long shadows through the stands of ancient Beech. Ponies gathered out in the shade, as did the deer, neither noticed us passing by, or showed they had, both grazing with contentment. It's July but still the ground is soft under foot and areas of standing water persist, particularly through the younger section of Brinken Wood, where the woodland floor is carpeted by thick lush grass.  A large bird alights from one of the older trees and glides towards a denser part of the wood as we approach, it's a bird of prey though I can't make out which type. It's so quiet out here, checking your foot falls you too can move through the stands silently, so not to interrupt the tranquillity.  We cross Highland Water, still flowing well, although now a dark colour like ruby ale, the consequence of the heathland peats. We're now in Great Huntley Bank and a world of ancient Oak and Beech. It's still soft under foot and grassy, though as we move onto slightly higher ground it dries and the grasses are replaced by thick swathes of shoulder high ferns. It's easy to become disorientated, and has an added sense of wild about it. A couple of times in quick succession a solitary deer darts out of the ferns, glances and then swiftly disappears again.  The sun is lower still now, and the layer of tranquillity has thickened and now covers the woodland like the eiderdowns I remember as a kid.  We stand still. It's only when you stop like this and really listen that you hear the song of the forest, particularly at this time of day.  Yes, it's tranquil, but the song never stops and as we listen, our ears tuning in, we hear twilights verse in the forests song. Birds sing their good-nights, the nocturnals waking at the start of their day and distant ponies calling and then the sound of hooves as the dispersed come together for the night.   

Walking is peaceful, the quiet washes over you and through the jumbled thoughts and distractions of the day. Life can be filled with negativity, and it's hard sometimes not to be consumed by by it, or at the least distracted by it. The forest is a counsellor who walks with you and listens as you churn over your problems and worries. And even if those problems and worries persist, which they often do, your walk amongst the stands is respite enough for you to return to them a little bit clearer and with renewed strength. 

Feild Maple

The winged seed pods of the Field Maple (Acer campestre), our only native maple, add a vibrant shot of red to countrysides current verdance.

A rip in the fabric of time.

There was a mysterious rip in the fabric of time which appeared over Cranborne Chase today, the rip allowed a conduit to the Second World War to form, and saw the giant shape of a B17 Flying Fortress soaring over the Wiltshire skies. I wonder if the crew knew they were flying in the future they and theirs served for?  The rip was short lived and soon the B17 returned to its own time and skies over the Chase were quiet again. I made it up, you say! Well, I can't think of any other explanation.

Red sky at night

The red / grey cloud combo is always a favourite of mine. Red sky at night shepherds delight, they say. Well, here's to hoping. Beyond the negative effects on wildlife and vegetation, particularly down at the allotment, I miss the seasons. Sure, I take days as they come, make the most of the good weather when we have it. But it's not right and you know it, this should be summer and the weather should be predictably fair to good, not this grey dank humid shite we're experiencing. We have a clear understanding of how unseasonal weather effects nature adversely, though appear to have a blind spot as to how it effects us (to a point disingenuous I know, we understand about Vitamin D deficiency, but I believe there's more to it), maybe that's because we're British and love to obsess about the weather, but also being British frequently miss the bigger picture. News flash, we are nature too.  Still, tomorrows another day.

Magic Bus @ The King Arthur, Glastonbury

Arthur Conley asked if we liked good music? Well, derrr! Of course Arthur, man! And if it's good music you're looking for then Magic Bus will be right up your street. This is my description Magic Bus from earlier in the year (back in February), I've included it here as when I started describing the band it soon became clear I was repeating myself.

''Well, Magic Bus are a 6 piece psychedelic, proggy, folky, jazz type combo. The band are Jay Darlington whose superb organ (amongst other key based instruments) drives many of the pieces.  Above this soars the magical fluting of Viv Goodwin-Darkes' which dances with the organ like a mischievous sprite (Viv also plays a whole load of other instruments). Paul Evans on guitar, conveys finely crafted songs with great vocals. Terence Waldstadt delivers some masterful lead guitar. Rhythm is supplied by Benny Brooks on bass and Connors' (last name unknown) frenetic drumming. Each band member putting in a highly polished performance on their individual instruments, which when combined together created a incredibly tight performance, a rich and mellow tripped out musical sound-scape with a fantastically uplifting and danceable groove.No doubt influenced and inspired by the sounds of late 60's early 70's from both sides of the Atlantic, Magic Bus are keeping that vibe alive and running with it. Every now and again there’s a nod to the likes of Caravan or  Gong or the echo of west coast harmonies. Don't get me wrong, the Magic Bus are no period tribute band, no sir, Magic Bus are doing their thing very much in the here and now.  You just can't hear organ and flute combined over guitar without being reminded of the early 70's 'Canterbury sound', and that's no bad thing.  I suppose it could be suggested that Magic Bus drink from the same inspirational spring as the afore mentioned, though they've freshened the sound, modernized it, given it a contemporary feel and play it with gusto.''

When we saw them back in February they were bloody marvellous, and tonights gig even surpassed that performance. Along with some favourites off their last two albums ('Magic Bus' and 'Transmission from Sogmore’s Garden' http://magicbusband.co.uk/), some delivered differently, they dropped in some new tracks from their up coming new album (possibly coming out with a vinyl option), which if the quality of the tracks played are anything to go by is going to be another audio treat. The sound at The Arthur, as usually, was very good, which served to emphasise Magic Bus's really clean tight sound. As I've said each member of the band is polished in their art and delivered a masterful performance, which quickly had folk up on their feet. And there were some fantastic dancing stars this evening, no, really, it all adds to the atmosphere of pure joy.  Great projections too. The performance was split into two glorious sets, giving everybody a chance to fill their glasses, and which gave us the opportunity to chat to Connor (the drummer) what a lovely chap, happy to chat with us too and was so full of beans I thought he might actually explode. In fact all the band are lovely and chatty; one of the joys of a small venue like the Arthur is that you're all together, band and audience, creating an inclusive atmosphere often lacking from larger venues. Sadly, all too soon, the performance was over and the bus stopped, and we alighted, although we'd all thoroughly enjoyed our journey, the band looked like they had too, which is always nice. It was another wonderful up lifting gig, which left you feeling much better than you'd been feeling before. I can't recommend a trip on the Magic Bus highly enough...pure uplifting joy.

As for The King Arthur http://thekingarthur.co.uk/wp/, well, you know what I'm going to say...what a magical magical place and superb venue with great sound, a really lovely friendly pub, staffed by great people and filled with friendly welcoming locals. As always 11 out of 10!