Blackensford Brook mindfulness

On our walk this morning we took the opportunity to chill awhile aside a quiet stretch of Blackensford Brook. I'd only intended a brief rest stop, some breathing, a quick chant, and a treat or two for Geoff; although the spot held us for longer. After the afore mentioned I adopted a malasana (squat) pose on the gravel close the babbling stream, closed my eyes and began to slow and deepen my breath; I found myself tuning into the sound of the water as it passed over nearby stones, then I became aware of the myriad sounds of water navigating myriad obstacles all around me, and one by one I focused on those sounds adding each unique sound to what was becoming a watery aural tapestry; eventually I found myself in a place of effortless and blissful mindfulness. Of course, after a few minutes, and all too quickly, my mind interrupted, and my meditation was over, still lovely whilst it lasted. I can't recall my awareness of a moment being so focused and complete. 

Sun reborn

Oh yeah! The new Sun is born, the new cycle begins and with it the slow march towards longer days. And what a corker of a sunrise it was; well worth enduring the blisteringly cold wind that raked Barton Cliffs. Elbow's lyric 'One day like this a year would see me right' rolled around my head as I took in the majestic beauty of this morning's sunrise; just stunning! Flags, flax, fodder and frigg to y'all for the coming cycle. /|\

Winter Solstice

Solstice Blessing y'all.

When the wheel turns and we come to one of the eightfold festivals I miss my friends in druid/pagan community. Solo rituals are well and good, and don't misunderstand me, I feel the connection and give/get what I need, though they don't compare with the warmth and feeling of connection you get standing in a circle with familiar faces, or unfamiliar faces for that matter, there's something special about a group ritual; there's nothing like it. 

Samhain extended

 

I remember garnering from the writings of Ross Nicholls that once Samhain, which we now celebrate on just one day, covered the period from October 31st through to the Winter Solstice on the 21st of December. This year as Samhain approached I'd been mulling that idea over, considering it's applications, and when I heard Phillip Carr-Gomm mention that Samhain had once been more of a season, I took it as a sign. I'd been riffing on the idea of extending the themes of Samhain, of endings and of letting things go, of cleaning out and preparing for the beginning of a new cycle; and as we approach the Winter Solstice that period is coming to a close. How did it go? Well, I think. There was the practical cleaning out; finding jars of dried mushrooms, nuts and herbs dated 2013/2014 at the back of a cupboard (I wont be eating them); then with the end of the growing year in the garden there was, pruning shrubs and trees, clearing beds to be done; and beyond that generally tidying my home was positive. Those were the simple bits. Harder the mental clearing; spending time considering and discarding the negative intellectual habits, reductive attitudes, beliefs and ideas I'd adopted over time, which I'm going to attribute mainly to the influence of the intellectually stifling/regressive and divisive echo chambers/silos of social media (it's a shame that social media never lived up to what it could've been).  Finally, I spend a great deal of time meditating on the mental baggage I needed to let go of for my emotional well-being; it's been a tumultuous and unsettling few years and the acquired baggage continues to drag me down like Marley's chains. The latter was the difficult one, especially with many of the contributing factors unresolved. Still, overall the exercise felt beneficial; it's certainly one I'll develop next year. 

Another misty morning

Out in the forest this morning it was the mistiest of mornings; the stands of Bratley enclosure were shrouded and near silent. I love the forest when it's like this, the landscape of fairy tales, a landscape in which you might spy mythagos. Magical. Out on the exposed plains the mists were even thicker, with visibility greatly reduced to the point where I found myself off course on a route I've undertaken many many times. The lyrics of Goldfrapp's Utopia came to mind 'It's a strange day, no colours or shapes, no sound in my head, I forget who I am'. Not wishing to overly big myself up, but unintentionally going off course is rare for me; intentionally going off course, well, that's another matter. Today's divergence was a good lesson, a reminder that I'm not infallible.

Thwarted by procrastination

Ah, once again thwarted by my mastery of procrastination, how damn predictable; I was quite happy with my design too. Three days to go and this years Winter Solstice card hasn't even made it the inking stage. When finished the moon and sun would have been behind the Awen, and the whole drawing rendered in either pen or pencil, or a combo of both. Still, on a positive note; I'm well ahead of schedule on my 2022 Winter Solstice card, so, huzzah!

Yule wreath

 This years front door Yule adornment.

Repairs

I spend 20 minutes or so on this morning's walk undertaking some remedial repairs to Burley Old's 'Hermitage'. I'd noticed over walks of late that it had become more of a sieve than a shelter and thought I'd do something about that. Recent winds ensured that there was plenty of canopy detritus of all sizes littering the woodland floor, plenty of leaf litter too. I was pleased with my efforts, by the time I'd finished many of the gaps and holes were filled, returning the shelter to darkness; one thing I noticed though during my maintenance was that in the near future more substantial structural work would be required if the hermitage was to endure. I have to say, even at my age, I really enjoyed 'playing' in the woods and was totally absorbed by the activity, the weights on my mind temporarily fading into the background. And you wouldn't believe it, but in that twenty minutes or so, in that small area, I walked just over a mile!    

 

Holly wranglers

A sight you'll see annually in the forest, and one that's probably as old as Yule celebrations themselves; folk collecting holly. The holly will be crafted in to wreaths which will be subsequently taken to markets and sold. The guys told me it was the last day of collection and that it had been a very good year; I suppose it depends on where you look, yeah, in some areas I've seen trees covered in bight red berries, whilst in others I've struggled to find more than a couple of berries...I walked all through Red Rise the other day and saw 4 berries, total. Some folklore suggests that an abundance of berries foretells of a harsh winter, a sign that the Goddess is ensuring food for the woodland/hedgerow birds; in which case, I don't know what to make of the patchy nature of berries this year...maybe a sign that our climate f*ckery has left mother nature uncertain of how to proceed.

Preserved in aspic

 

There are two faces to landscape conservation: the restoration of natural environments and the maintenance of historic environments. The re-channelling of sections of the forest streams to their pre Victorian courses are an example of the former; and I'd suggest the removal of conifers from the fringes of the Knowles is the latter. I've often said that to a great degree the New Forest is far from a natural environment, the creation of layers of human activity spanning millennia; left to it's own devices the forest would be a very different place. These pines have probably been removed as part of the ongoing 'Conifer removal on Ancient Woodland sites' plan. Without continuous management the growth of pine, birch and carr species would swallow the managed woodland mosaic hundreds of years in the making via human interventions; in reality the forest is a smorgasbord of historic landscapes/environments we desperately try to hold in aspic.

Reluctant to leave

Oaks; always late to the party, and always the last to leave.

 

After the storm

All through Great Huntley Bank and Camel Green signs of storm Barra were apparent; branches and boughs litter the woodland floor, the canopy is all but empty beyond the usual culprits and I lost count of the trees I saw slighted. I see the aspect of the forest changing in light of the increased winds and weird weather we've experience over recent years, and I can't help but wonder/worry what the forest will look like as climate change continues to bed in. I'm assuming there that the changes are man made or that nature fluctuations are being amplified and exaggerated by human behaviours; behaviours I genuinely don't see changing in the foreseeable future...no matter what the comforting green-washed narratives suggest. I feel these changes viscerally. Still, the forest was lovely today as was our walk; and as with so much in life, you've got to take solace where you can.

Studland sunrise

Bastard weather wizards! It'll be sunny they predicted, then, it'll be sunny with a scattering of clouds, and throughout they claimed less than 5% chance of rain. So after our recent visit to Studland I resolved to return this morning to catch the sunrise and take a walk; what with it going to be such a good day. I mumbled curses as just before dawn, having risen ridiculously early to get here, we wandered up the coast towards the wall of grey cloud which hugged the horizon, through cold raking winds and mizzle...bastard weather wizards! To be fair, it must be increasingly hard to accurately predict weather as our climate deteriorates, and, they did suggest cloud and rain, even if it was only 5%, and, if I was honest I protested too much as I didn't really care, just being here was good enough. That said, the morning predicted would've been preferable. Anyway. The beach was ours, not another soul in sight as we made our way along the shore. Then, as is often the way, nature rewards your endeavours and the sun rose through a break in the clouds, bathing the beach in the most wonderful light. As Geoff explored, I stood and marvelled at nature's glory, lost in the moment I was taken by a mild euphoria at the beauty of everything; my photos really don't do the light justice. Facing the sun I took three breathes and chanted the Awen; I love that fleeting heightened clarity you experience after chanting. The moment was perfect.  I declared that if this was the best the day could offer and the rest of the day returned to grey, I'd gratefully take that. The sun shone it's golden light for 10 minutes or so before again disappearing beyond the grey veil which by now was obscuring virtually any hint of blue; and it was indeed the best, sunniest, moment the day offered...and I continued to be grateful for it. We did 13.8 miles today too; Shell Bay, Studland Beach, inland at North Beach, across Godlingston Heath to Rempstone, up onto Nine Barrow Down, before descending again to retrace our route back to Shell Bay. On the way back I thought a guy approaching me along the beach was wearing a pink tracksuit or similar, until he got closer and I realised he was a cooked lobster coloured naturist; that's dedication to your path, man. Great day.

Regeneration

Nature's resilience is an unceasing wonder to me; take the view above, a few years back this area of Chewton Common was all scorched earth and charred trunks after 'another' common fire, yet look at it now, you'd never know; the regeneration is a marvel.

Studland

I'd been wanting to visit Studland for awhile; I knew it had been a while since we'd roamed these ways, though hadn't realised our last walk here was back in early March 2020. The long sweeping bay with it's broad sandy beach and Couch/Lyme/Marram grass colonized dunes were as beautiful and wind swept as I remembered them; as behind the dunes were the willow and phragmites fringed ponds and lakes of brackish water which pock the peninsular creating rare niche habitats. I've mentioned before, Purbeck, including Studland, appear miraculous in their apparent wild timelessness when their immediate vicinity to BCP, which must be the biggest urban sprawl and the south coast is considered.  A wonderful place. Studland that is, BCP not so much.