Whitsbury Castle Hillfort

We were back over Whitsbury Hill this morning, it's a glorious landscape of mixed farmland, grassland and woodland, criss crossed by shaded tracks and secluded paths. It's on the border of Cranborne Chase, Sumner country, and a landscape incredibly rich in archaeological heritage and monuments. Above the village of  Whitsbury is Whitsbury Castle, a good sized multivallate hillfort dating from the Iron Age. I've visited most of the hillforts in the region over the years, though never this one, and was surprised by it's size and the impressive nature of its ramparts and ditches, which remain (for the most part) in wonderful condition. Here's a link to its Historic England listing. Sadly it's in private hands and public access is only around the periphery, though I'm wondering if it might not be worth my while putting my archaeological hat on and seeking permission from the land owner to have a wander about.  I'd love to have an explore.

Turning the wheel

I was out in Burley Old this morning, and thought with Beltane approaching I would leave another note at the site I believe to be used by pagans to celebrate the turning wheel of the year. I'd seen seed left as an offering back at Imbolc, and I'd left a note below their wooden offering platter just before the Spring Equinox, wishing them blessings. The Equinox passed, and there was no sign of activity, the enclosure had become dishevelled, and my note remained unread. I'd thought to leave a note of Beltane blessings today, though on my approach I could see the site had been renewed and fresh offerings of seed had been left. I'd missed them again. I imagine as I was attending the Clan of the Pheryllt's ritual, about a mile away, this site saw a ritual too. I  noted that Imbolc and Beltane were marked, though not the Equinox, it'll be interesting to see if the Summer Solstice is marked, or whether it's just the greater Sabbats. I'm going to leave another note for Solstice, and got to wondering how many other groups or individuals are out in the woods, communing with the spirits of nature and our ancestors in this church not made by hands. Anyway, I looked under the platter to find my note had gone, and had been replaced by a pound coin. Bless them, my blessings come for free though, and I now feel awkward and in a quandary as whether to take the coin or leave it.

Beltane open ritual

Beltane approaches and tonight I joined with others in an open Beltane ritual out in the New Forest hosted by the Clan of the Pheryllt. I've attended Pheryllt rituals, and the occasional moot, for some years now, though recently one thing and another had meant that I'd missed more than one or two. I've missed these gatherings. It was lovely to be back in the circle with so many familiar faces, as well as several new, it was as if no time has passed at all. Solitary practice is all well and good, and something I'm used to after years of shying away from groups having met some right chumps. The Clan of the Pheryllt and the people who congregate at their open rituals couldn't be more different though, good folk, friendly and open. The clans rituals are a joy, there was appropriate solemnity, though plenty of humour, a phallic Maypole, dancing, singing, and bardic offerings by way of music and poetry too. A lovely evening, a lovely ritual, with lovely people, in a lovely setting...lovely.

Birch Flowers

One of our young Silver Birches (Betula pendula) is in full flower at the moment, the female flowers put on quite a show.

Custard Flux's Helium album gets a viynl release

Last years album of the year, Custard Flux's Helium, is getting a vinyl release, oh the joy! The brainchild of the Luck of Eden Hall's Gregory Curvey, Helium is focused around a harmonium Curvey found and restored, subsequently creating an album for which he wrote all songs and played all the instruments. I raved about Helium when it was released, and with good reason, it's a tour de force of musician and artist Gregory Curvey's manifest talents. You must check it out. To mark the announcement came the release of the bonus material found in the sumptuous Custard Flux Helium box edition, of which there are only a couple left. Five wonderful tracks, each one highlighting different aspects of Curvey's musical palette and creative ear. I've said it before, he's a musical magpie, sipping at infinite wells, an alchemist crafter of the unique.  A stand out track for me is Curvey's interpretation of Reed's 'Satatlite of Love', it's gentle tempo and marvellous harmonium conjures up an image of a wandering minstrel serenading someone slowly floating away from Earth. It's an inspired rendition, the harmonium is simply wonderful. This is going to be an excellent release, ''two Raspberry coloured 180g LPs featuring all 16 songs included on both the Helium and Box Set Bonus CDs, housed in a jacket with a 1/4” spine, and kept neat in a reusable plastic bag, plus a lyric sheet and a 6” x 8” postcard''. Doesn't that sound good. And it's available to pre-order now.

Dandelion

Spring exploding through a Dandelion.

Whitsbury

We were walking in the beautiful borderland between the New Forest and Cranborne Chase today, proper Sumner country, around Whitsbury exactly. A wonderful rolling landscape, a tapestry of fields and woodlands, connected by a network of shaded paths and droves. It's a real rural landscape. The canopy of the woodland running along Whitsbury Hill is filling out casting dappled shadows over a mass of flowers, the floor is a carpet of bluebells dotted with clusters of Yellow Archangel, Greater Stitchwort, Red Campion, to name but a few. There's so much energy in the land it's infectious, there's literally a spring in your step and a smile on your face, as we walked that scene from 'Spaced' where Tim and Bilbo are walking came to mind, and my smile broadened  further. I stood for a while in secluded woodland, wholly immersed in spring, the heady scent of woodland flowers fills the warm air and the sun kisses my face, it's pure bliss, man. I took three breaths, breathing in the woodland as I did. Stood there amongst the stands I felt really connected to everything, and it felt good. In fact, the whole walk felt good, I must come this way more often. For the most part, and apart from the local inhabitants, of course, this is a forgotten landscape, or more a landscape few know about. We regularly walk these paths for hours without seeing a soul. Hey, I'm not complaining, mind.

Great Huntley Oak

All over the forest the trees are getting dressed, tentatively, a few leaves at a time, like a slow striptease in reverse. The Great Huntley Oak has stood right here for hundreds of years, its gnarled old trunk now a mass of folds, hollows and crevices, homes to a multitude of woodland creatures, it's boughs still reaching for the sky. Even though this ancient oak is old, wizened and worldly, the young leaves unfurling all over it's boughs and branches are tender and delicate, as for a short period each year these venerable trees are flushed with youth. As throughout the forest the green world returns.

Full Moon

Aprils full Moon.

Burley Old

These views from the gate show you how the forest is changing, top one's the 30th March, the one below is today. Bit by bit the canopy unfurls, ushering the season of dappled light, by far the best kind of light. The enclosure's gates are all now fixed open to allow the ponies seasonal access to the woodland. I do love this woodland, it's the one I've visited the most, for 30 years or so, and I still visit it most frequently. It's wonderfully rewarding visiting a place so frequently, you get to have a deeper relationship with it, understand it more, know it more, you notice the subtle changes as well as the bigger events, and know when others have been there. You know the wood and the wood knows you. I was thinking how it's like a living memory album, I see a tree and it holds a memory, another holds another, and so on, of times and people which come to life in my minds eye. It's not just my memories stored here either, others roam these woods, and to them it's theirs, just like to me it's mine. I get to glimpse their memories too. I see their shelters and dens, I see their art, I've scoured the trees for graffiti, and there's plenty to be found, from the Admiralty marks of old, through a cluster of American wartime graffiti made by those on their way to the beaches in 44', to the usual initials, declarations of love, band names and miscellanea. The wood is steeped in histories. I do love this woodland.

Brenscombe Bluebells

Out in Purbeck this morning, it was lovely to see the bluebells coming out in Brenscombe Wood.

Alder

Sat by Red Rise Brook this morning I noticed a young Alder (Alnus glutinosa) sapling clinging to the bank. Alder is fairly common amongst the forests carr woodland communities, in the bogs and stream environs, more so in some places than others, it has to be said. It's a very useful wood, it was commonly coppiced and is often recognized by its stool. Along Avon Water below Wootton Bridge years of Alder coppicing have created huge stools with multiple stems. It's a water tolerant hardwood, used in furniture making and Fender guitars, you get dyes from the bark, it has medicinal properties too and it's said that you can eat its catkins, though I'm not that hungry. In recent history New Forest Alder charcoal was produced and used in huge quantities in gas mask production during World War Two. I always think it's a tree which I overlook in the woods, others popping to mind more readily, that maybe as I tend to avoid the wetter parts of the forest as a rule (as if such a thing is possible) and don't meet up with them as much as I should.

Townley's view

A harsh wind raked the ridge around the Kimmeridge bowl this morning as we made our way along it towards Tyneham Cap, and although the sun shore brightly, it was no match. A bright cold day indeed, great for walking, and we did at quite a pace. On reaching the Cap one of the Jurassic Coasts many spectacular vistas comes into view; in the foreground Gad Cliffes, beyond, a sweeping view across the Tyneham Valley and Worbarrow Bay, over the ramparts of Flowers Barrow Iron Age hillfort, across to Mupe, and Portland on the horizon. Quite something. The Jurassic Coast at it best. No wonder Townley Shenton loved this view.

Foal

First foal I've seen this year.

Geoff's one

Our little fellow is growing into a young man, a year old today. When not seeking out mud holes or skanky puddles to immerse himself in, he's continually attempting a new land speed record, one of my nicknames for him is 'Boomer', the speed at which he passes me. Another nickname's 'Bastard' for the afore mentioned mud holes, and his ability to position his post swim shakes perfectly to transfer the maximum amount of water/mud on to me. He's shaping up to be a great hound though, friendly and loving, loads of personality, quite the memory for mischief and a boundless love of everything, and anybody, needs to work on his listening at times...a lot of times. Still, he's a good boy really, a very good boy. Happy birthday Geoff.

Sun Graffiti

Facing exactly south-east this stylized Sun motif is in the 'strange' graffiti category. Not a name or date, no words or single letters, all of which represent the bulk of tree graffiti I come across.  I don't think it's a forestry mark, they're usually simpler affairs. No, as I say, a solid contender for the strange graffiti category. The previous groups are often easy to interpret, whereas with symbols, unless you recognize the symbol, it's hard to understand motive or what the scribe is trying to convey.  I'm calling it a 'sun' when it could represent something else entirely, I'm also assuming it's directional position was through choice, not chance, although my compass says it's spot on south-east. It looks as if it's quite old, and was possibly cut with some sort of tool rather than a knife, the rays appear paired. Who knows. Cool though. 

Ramson Flower

Ramson flowers are bursting forth, a sure sign of Beltane's approach.

Circling

Three birds of prey glided slowly and effortlessly across the sky, performing a circling dance and occasionally screeching loudly as they duelled for supremacy. Although a serious matter for them, I found it strangely relaxing to watch. 

Bloomin' nice

The blossom's out all over, though none more so than along the banks of Red Rise Brook. It's a riot of bright white flower blossom along there at the moment, swathes of blackthorn are putting on a proper show. It's a really good year for blossom in the forest too. Amongst the sea of white a beautiful apple tree coming into blossom, there's something special about the the scent of apple blossom, something heady and magical; I can't pass apple blossom without taking a moment or two to breath it in. It smelt lovely too. Just one of springs little pleasures.

Into the green

For a long time I neglected the forests coniferous plantations, shunned them as artificial, man made, wrongly thinking of them as homogeneous, dark and impenetrable or a least hard going. Of course, coniferous plantations are mostly like that when young, although when they mature they become something else. They become a whole worlds. Take the big coniferous block in the middle of Wilverely (a mosaic of deciduous and coniferous blocks), it's a world of mixed aged conifers with a well developed under-story, woodland you can get disorientated in, where you glimpse views through the stands only to lose them with your next step, you're not allowed to see too much at one time. One minute you're in relatively open stands, tall mature trunks reaching for the sky, next you disappear into a densely planted section, only to emerge in a secret secluded grove. The whole block is like that, magical. It's strangely peaceful too, whilst simultaneously so very much alive. Another beautiful thing about this world is that you can move through it almost silently, years of needles and dense moss have created a cushioned carpet, and you can just slide through the low hanging boughs. It's a wonderful sensation moving through like that. The smell too, that clean fresh conifer scent, and where parts remain continually shaded, there's always a petrichor-esque smell. You feel earthed, and grounded in their evergreen confines. Over the last few years I've become attached to the coniferous world. I see it very differently now, or rather I see it as I do the deciduous woods, many of which are also in part or entirely the consequence of human agency. More and more I seek out these less walked areas, criss crossed only by animal tracks (the only paths to travel), you feel alone with the trees and their woodland inhabitants. I find them areas where I can better connect, places where the tranquillity better facilitates contemplation and meditation.   

Covert ops

Whilst out walking in Brinken Wood this morning I came across something you shouldn't, clear signs of someone wild camping/having a fire.  It's something that frustrates me, folk leaving signs of their activity, it's just not the thing, it brings the rest of us on top. To their credit, not a single piece of rubbish, and the fire had been properly extinguished which suggests good practice, and maybe the visible remains were a result of a lack of bushcraft knowledge. It took me only five minutes to disperse the remains, camouflage the site and leave no trace that there had been a fire.  That's all it takes, and it makes all the difference. If people see the site of a fire they report it, the rangers or landowners check that area out more, and another wild camping opportunity is lost.  We wild camped a site on Dartmoor (on Dartmoor you can wild camp, though can't have a fire) up to 10 times a year for ten years before being rumbled by a ranger.  Even then we were only caught because we'd hung about too long in the morning.  The ranger told us that for years they'd regularly had reports of fires in the woodland beyond the river at night, although every time they went to investigate they could see or find no evidence, no trace of fire nor camp. That's how it should be.  He went on to commend us, before casually reminding us that fires were prohibited. Through good practice we'd got away with it. Even afterwards we continued to use the site, less though still regularly, and were never bothered again. The lack of bushcraft knowledge is a consequence of our culture in which increasingly folk aren't socialized to the outside and nature, nor are they encouraged to practice wild camping skills. To contrary, there are few areas where wild camping, and fewer still where wild camping with fires, is even permitted. Our countryside and wild places are all sown up, owned or controlled, with camping legislated against.  Lost to our detriment are the basic and fundamental survival skills of the ancestors.

Norden Wood

Although the sun was just beginning to burn through the mists, the Corfe Valley remained veiled in gossamer...there were to be no views of the coast this morning. That didn't matter though, what was on offer was more than enough to satisfy the senses. The land's coming alive. You can see the trees and shrubs straining, they're champing at the bit ready to unfurl their glories. Whilst below them the race has already begun, the path sides are thronged with competing spring greens. In Norden  Wood the Ash buds are fit to burst, under them the ramsons and dog mercury (both ancient woodland indicators) have formed a lush dense green carpet, a fragrant carpet spotted with primrose and the beginnings of bluebells. The energy in the land is tangible, the birds shout natures on the clock, and that wheel keeps turning. This landscape has always been a landscape rich in resources of all kinds, and subsequently has seen human activity for millennia, amongst the lush carpet we pass by an ancient prehistoric boundary which can be traced, highlighted in green. Green would certainly be the word of the day.

Post Brexit national flag

Not well advertised (which may have explained the poor turnout), and without any pomp or ceremony, our post brexit national flag was unveiled in Purbeck this morning.  Up on the Purbeck Ridge, overlooking Corfe Castle, a castle, you don't get a better symbol of sovereignty than that, the apt new red, white and blue symbol of British sovereignty fluttered proudly. It hung on a barbered wire fence, another symbol maybe, this time of a nation imprisoned by a narrative built on a false premiss, that of a Britain that never was. Still, nice to see we've kept the red, white and blue. 

Custard alert!

The Luck of Eden Hall's Gregory Curvey has been whipping up second helpings of delicious and aurally nutritious Custard flux in way of a further album. He's left some on a spoon cooling for us to have a taste...and it's bloody good stuff! I thoroughly enjoyed last years first helping of Custard Flux, the fabulous 'Helium', and so was overjoyed to hear there'd be seconds (here's my review of Helium). The taster track's 'America'. 'Freedom and democracy, a place to raise a family, America' goes the chorus, although sounding like a celebration of the American dream, there's irony at play here which is confirmed by the following line 'a capitalist fantasy, insatiable reality, America'. It may also have a lovely perky upbeat melody to it, though it also has a hint of a melancholy running through it, and maybe an element of gentle sarcasm in Curvey's lyrical delivery too, which along with the lyrics themselves speak of a dream turning or turned sour...America. Wonderful and well observed, it's a beautiful sounding track too. If this is representative then, man, Custard Flux's forthcoming album release is going to be something else. If you don't know Gregory Curvey's work, firstly, you're missing out, and secondly, he's a writer and musician of enormous talent, proficient on many instruments and musically eloquent, he has an eye for detail and is a master of creative alchemy. As is customary with Gregory's sound it's wonderfully rich and resonant with fantastic flourishes, in short he's a purveyor of contemporary psychedelia at it's very best. And, this is an example of it. If I were a fish and this were bait, then I've taken it hook, line and sinker, just reel me in. Go on, give it a listen.

Stuck in the middle, confused.

Sunshine to the left of me, hail stones on the right, here I am stuck in the middle confused. Strange day indeed, though one of the joys of periods of seasonal transition are strange days, when weather wise anything can happen. I sat breathing in the forest under a favourite Oak on the edge of Red Rise Shade, in front of me an expanse of heathland stretching up to Rock Hills and Spy Holms, glorious sunshine warming my face, I'm lost in the sounds of the forest. When suddenly hail begins to fall, though the sun still shone warmly, and for a while both states continued in unison. It was quite an strange sensation, two diametrically opposed weather types simultaneously doing their things, magical.  A take on, 'a foxes riddle and a monkey's dance', something my mum used to say, when it rained whilst the sun shone. Seeing how things were going, we moved off back down towards the brook and the less exposed stands of Burley Old. As we hurried, the sky slowly darkened and the hail intensified until it dominated, and the sun, sensing the futility of struggling, retreated. Intense would describe the rate of fall, ans although the downpour was relatively short lived, by the time the hail had stopped the ground was carpeted in small icy balls. It's never dull walking in the forest. Elements of spring, hail and welcome.

Eel

Walking along Mill Lawn Brook this morning I spotted an Eel, a European Eel (Anguilla anguilla) which is apparently on the critically endangered list, how wonderful to see one here in the forest. A testament to the vitality of the forest streams, and maybe the benefits of the forest's stream restoration program (aptly 40% funded by the EU). I've previously mentioned how the stream restorations have born wonderful fruits, and so quickly, revitalizing rich environments, creating an increased the number of habitats, including niche ones, and hugely increasing biodiversity overall. The streams and their environs are much healthier and more vibrant, as well as the eel, fry darted through the stream, ponies grazed it's banks, deer in the wider environs, whilst a Heron and a Egret looked for dinner from their riverside vantage points amongst thriving wetland plant communities.  As I say, the restoration project is part funded by the EU under the Life 3 scheme, and I have to wonder whether after our departure from the EU such projects will fall by the wayside. I can't imagine our government see environmental projects such as these as a priority. It would be a great shame if the restoration of the forest streams and bog woodland faltered, and the achievements so far neglected. To paraphrase the People's Front of Judea, What have the EU ever done for us? In truth nobody knew how integrated we are in Europe and how much our communities, people, environment, wildlife, our whole nation in fact, has benefited from our unique relationship with the EU. 

Red Rise Brook

Red Rise Brook