Here comes the rain again

The rain ran down the forest's trees in streams this morning, a testament to it's intensity. The video's on it's side (I couldn't work out how to reorientate it), but you can see the persistent flow.

Hot pants

The forest's graffiti comes in all shapes and sizes, here the shape is comely if not somewhat exaggerated, and the size is quarter scale-ish. It's a weird one for sure. No doubt a fantasy image of a woman, although the way the carver has proportioned the body and something in the stance lends the graffiti a strange masculinity. It's notoriously difficult to age tree carved graffiti, so many factors at play, though I'm going to suggest 70's/80's by the style of hot pants. Another carving I'll never know the story behind and another addition to what's becoming quite a collection of images.

Southern discomfort

 

When the forest's like this it always puts me in minds of the film 'Southern Comfort', a thriller set in the swampy woodlands of Louisiana; of course difference being Hampshire's New Forest is colder, and doesn't have any alligators or angry Cajuns with guns. Unless you stay on the main paths and forestry tracks moving cross country when the forest is like this would be more aptly described as Southern discomfort.

Rhinefield Bridge

Rhinefield Bridge

Black Water

For years since our boys were young we've enjoyed our Christmas feast on Christmas Eve, continental stylee; logistically it made sense, I couldn't cook a Christmas dinner and put together three children's toys at the same time; it became our family tradition. Another tradition is our short Christmas day walk, which in recent years has been along the stretch of Black Water between Black Water Bridge and Gravelly Ford; it's a nice stretch of stream with a high meander ratio, picturesque and easy walking, set amongst the open mature Oaks in Vinny Ridge enclosure (1859). As you'd imagine, the forest was very quiet this morning. 

Wet wilderness

Winter's inclement weather changes the forest, turning it into a totally different beast from it's usual welcoming environment. It's at times like this, with swathes of the forest inundated and impassible or at least unnavigable, I imagine the forest of yesteryear; less formal or managed, a real wilderness where keeping to a route or travelling at a reasonable pace is near impossible. Year on year since the stream restoration project began over 20 years ago you've seen the forest's stream environs regain some of that wildness; its not just the streams themselves either, all the rivulets that feed them back up too, filling the surrounding woodland, creating an even more extensive obstacle. It makes for interesting walks.

Solstice blessings

Well, the wheel's turned, and the promised new Sun was born; another cycle has begun as we initiate our slow march towards the warmer longer days of summer. Although I was up and out well before dawn this morning there was no sunrise to be seen; though the horizon was obscured by clouds, I'm sure it was there. Solstice blessing to y'all; let's toast our forthcoming trip around the Sun and may it see us bountifully blessed with flags, flax, fodder and Frigg, and all we'd wish for ourselves. /|\

Winter Solstice

Being deeply connected to the natural world our ancestors knew the importance of the Winter Solstice and it's pivotal point in the turning of the seasonal wheel, as a consequence many of their prehistoric monuments have alignments which mark the midwinter sunset; most notable locally being the 10km long Dorset Cursus. Today many pagans favour the following morning's sunrise to celebrate their Solstice and the birth of the new Sun. I used to only observe the latter though for some years now I've observed both. So today I did my bit for the ancestors by observing what I could of the shortest day's sundown over the harbour. Personally, the winter Solstice has always been one of my most important celebrations, it marks the end of a period of refection begun at Samhain; whilst tomorrow's sunrise marks the chance of new beginnings. Over the period since Samhain I've reflected on how the year's gone, where I'm at, what I've achieved (all very meh if I'm honest), and what I want for the coming year. My conclusion has been that after the last few very thin years in isolation I really need to reconnect; reconnect with valued people/communities, with activities/interests and especially with creativity. I'm sure it's going to be easier said than done, stuck in a deep rut as I am, but I fear myself disappearing into the long grass permanently if I don't.

Murky

Overnight the weather changed, this morning gone was the icy crispness and dry cold which defined the last week or so, and today could best be described as damp, dank and dull. That said, we still enjoyed a good walk in an empty forest. 

Wood eddies

 Wood eddies.

Forest ride

Some of the broad paths through the forest's woodland are known as 'rides', typically as they've traditionally been used for horse riding. Although established routes these are often less formal (unmade, natural surface, not gravelled) than some of the other tracks in the forest, and always have lovely aspects to them.

Ice flow

Ice flow nowhere to go, lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra (Boosh 2004). Well, it's not actually that bad, though still at -4 degrees and with many of the forest's smaller tributaries, even stretches of the bigger streams frozen, the ground solid under foot and walking through the frozen leaf litter sounding like walking through corn flakes, it feels very Baltic...to a soft Southerner's sensibilities anyway.  That's not to say it's not nice out, because it is; the Sun, although shedding little discernible warmer, shines in a clear blue sky and the forest's wonderful walking. Just bloody cold.

Oh happy day

 

Have you ever had a much loved/listen to album that's either given up the ghost or disappeared? I'm sure you have, it's a bummer. Back in the mid 80's a friend did me a recording of an album someone had done him a recording of (as was the way of the times), proggy as f*ck, I loved it, and it became a regular listen. Over the years the tape, as tapes often do, degraded until it became unplayable. The cassette just had 'Gandalf' scribbled on it; I'd always thought Gandalf had been the name of a band, and searched for it as such, always coming up with either a 60's American psyche rock band or on later searches a Finnish death metal band; I'd also searched 'Gandalf' as album title, again no joy. Roll on the years, whilst yoga-ing this morning listening to 'Veterans of the psych wars' a favourite Youtube channel, my ears pricked, I looked up from downward dog and to my surprise saw 'Gandalf', another album but certainly drawn from the same well. My mistake was it turns out Gandalf wasn't the name of a band, nor of an album, but rather the pseudonym of Austrian musician/composer Heinz Strobl. Who'd have thought! Short of it is, I've found a much loved and thought lost album, along with a whole library by the same artist. Oh happy day.

Knight Wood - Warwick Slade

Knight Wood - Warwick Slade

Ringed pine

Something new, I've not seen this practice in the forest before; a loose spread of just over a dozen conifers set amongst the mixed deciduous stands of the lower reaches of James's Hill have had their trunks broadly ringed by the forestry. Known as 'ring barking' or 'girdling', the aim of ringing a tree is to kill it, or sometimes to stimulate coppice growth, it this case I'm saying the former; removing the band of living bark stops the essential movement of fluids around the tree causing stress, promoting dieback and/or disease. I'm imagining the reasons for using this method are the difficulty moving machinery over/through this terrain without causing damage, or maybe the desire to create dead upstanding wood - once dead these trees could remain standing for years. Whatever, an interesting and unusual sight.

Brass monkeys

I thought it was cold yesterday morning, though I hadn't considered that that was at 0930 after the Sun had risen and taken the edge off, dawn this morning was so much colder. Dusted in frost the forest was quiet and still, little stirred; there were very few animals about, I imagined them hunkered down somewhere out of the worst of the chill; very few people about too, also probably avoiding the chill. Nice out though, worth the effort. A bracing walk was had; 13 miles of bracing walk in fact.

Old Ford to long gone wood

 

You'd be forgiven for not recognizing it, though this was once the site of a well used track from Red Rise into Red Rise Furze Brake; at this point the track crossed what was the old course of Red Rise Brook (now the restored course) and was the site of seasonal ford. Now open heathland back in the early 90's Red Rise Furze Brake was all tightly packed conifers, a dark claustrophobic companion to the open and airy deciduous stands of Red Rise. Even though nearly 30 years have passed, the stream's been restored and the conifers have gone, when ever we pass by my minds eye still sees the spot as it was all those years ago, and I'm looking into a woodland that's no longer there; it's funny how vividly images can stick in your mind.

Frosty Scrape Bottom

This morning, with an icy frosting under a clear blue sky, Scrape Bottom was the epitome of a winter landscape. It was bloody cold too! You'd better be wrapped up warm, Jack's frigid fingers are probing for any exposed spots; don't be misunderstanding me, this is what winter's supposed to feel like and I for one embrace it. Well, outside I embrace it; this cold snap poses a challenge for those of us doing our best to keep the heating off.

Harbour sunset

 Harbour sunset

First proper frost

The wheel's turned and autumn's given way to winter, and winter's leaned into it's duties with relish; this morning saw the first proper frost of the year, and Jack's dusting endured throughout the day.

Berry Wood quarry

The forest's underlying geology is sand, gravel and clays, all useful resources and as a consequence the landscape is pitted with redundant quarries from a variety of historic periods and of all sizes. Many of these hollows will seasonally fill with water creating reflective pools that'll endure into early summer the following year.

Burley Old

 I never tire of visiting Burley Old.

A hard winter ahead?

I've seen a lot of heavily berry laden Holly (Ilex aquifolium) trees on our recent walks; folklore says that a glut of berries is a sign of a harsh winter to come, and that the Mother Goddess is ensuring ample foods are available for her winged charges. Time will tell. Separately, Holly's a traditional staple of Yule/Christmas decorations, commonly wreaths and table centrepieces, and those licensed to harvest the forest's Holly are out at the moment filling giant sacks with it.

Park Hill Heathland restoration

As part of this morning's long roam we walked through Park Hill enclosure; we'd last passed this way back in January when signs proclaimed that the area was to undergo Heathland restoration. Well, that project appears well under way; cleared mainly coniferous timber lays neatly stacked on the sides of the enclosure's tracks; the landscape beyond cleared except for the occasional clump of or solitary deciduous tree; felling debris litters the cleared land, ready to be raked and burnt. It all looks a bit disruptive and messed up at the moment, though it wont be too many years before the restored heathland will be teeming with diverse flora, birds, reptiles and insects; and you'd never know it had ever been any different.

Heads up

Depending on who's teaching, there are either 5 or 7 S's of successful camouflage and concealment, our friend the deer here broke 3 of them; with a sudden movement she caught my eye, the shape and colour pattern of her head were incongruous with the surrounding heather and coupled with the silhouette she created popping her head above the flora she stuck out like a sore thumb.

Over there

Throughout our walk this morning the Sun always appeared to be shining somewhere else, somewhere over there, through the stands over there, across the open ground over there, never quite where we were walking. I don't know what I'd done wrong, or why the Sun refused to shine on me. But it didn't.