Seasonality

I could've easily collected enough Ceps (Boletus edulis) for a good meal on our walk this morning. I didn't though. I don't feel right collecting resources out of their season; I'm quite married to the notion of our seasonal wheel. To pinch a biblical line 'there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity'.  Though I'm concidering whether I may have to reassess that position if the seasons shift proper.

All change

The first 2 miles of our walk this morning was undertaken in glorious sunshine, the following 12 miles were not. Quite the dramatic change of conditions, although the walking remain consistently good throughout, unseasonal weather aside. The first shot is along the main track through Broomy enclosure and the second is over Rakes Brakes Bottom and Dockens Water from Fritham Plain.

Debris

 

Squirrels (Sciurus carolinensis) have been busy.

Blackensford Brook

 

The forest is always full of surprises, take Blackensford Brook here flowing like this during the summer. Not a common sight.

Bufo bufo

 

I disturbed two healthy looking Common Toads (Bufo bufo) whilst moving some membrane on the lotty this afternoon. The membrane had been folded over a couple of times as I'd opened up the bed and the toads were holed up in the folds. The toad pictured was by far the largest of the two, so I'm going to say she was the female of the pair. Toads are always welcome on the plot, the damage control service they provide is invaluable, the slug empire will be defeated. Though I have to say I've seen few slugs or snails about this year; I wonder why that is? Surely toads can't have eaten them all.

The Gatekeeper

 

They say the Gatekeepers' habitat is grass and scrub, so I was chuffed to see them in our garden, as grassy scrub land was the aesthetic we were going for. There's a lot of them too. No doubt attracted by our healthy and numerous clumps marjoram, one of the Gatekeepers' favourite sources of nectar.

Beefsteak

Add Beefsteak mushroom (Fistulina hepatica) to the list of mushrooms out and about.

Welcomed rain

 

The recent rains have given even the smallest of the forest streams their voices back, and the brooks are back to babbling their song as they pass. The forest has enjoyed the rain, looking lush and verdant for it.

Cobnuts

 

The year before last I pollarded (after a fashion) our 10 year old Cob Hazel (Corylus). I'd imagined it would've taken a few years before the tree produced nuts again. I was mistaken. I've spied quite a few good sized nuts so far.

Oysters

Nice find.  An extensive spread of fresh young button Oyster mushroom (Pleurotus ostreatus) clumps on a fallen beech in Mark Ash Wood. The rains have really brought the forests' fungi to life. I've now seen Oyster, Summer Cep, Chanterelle, a variety of Russula and Puffball, and plenty of others whose identities are unknown to me. The forest continues to riff on that autumn vibe. 

Heart of the forest

At the heart of the forest are it's streams, and the heart of those streams are the springs, spreads and collects that feed them.

Black Water

 

Black Water above Gravelly Ford.

Bolete

 

I've seen a few Summer Boletes (Boletus reticulatus) about.

Cone resin

Of late I've seen several of the forests' Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) cones oozing sticky fragrant resin, not just the cones either, their needle like leaves too. As well as being a highly prized and versatile timber with wide ranging use, and its needles making a renowned healing tea, the resin of the Douglas can also be used as an antiseptic to treat wounds, chewed as a gum, or used to treat coughs, colds and sore throats. I just love the smell of it. 

Autumn calling

I can't be the only one feeling it? As if Autumn is here. I know it's July but all my senses are questioning whether it's not autumn already?  Of course I know it can't be, but the forest is doing a bloody good impression. The smells, the sounds, the colour palette, the atmosphere amongst the stands, all suggest that transitional phase between late summer and autumn. It's probably an illusion created by the weather we've been experiencing; though I've long suggested that spring and autumn are extending their ranges, whilst summer and winter are contracted theirs into shorter seasons.

Warwickslade

Once the straightest of straight Victorian forestry drains Warwickslade Cutting was restored to a meandering course back in the noughties, and now both stream and environs are re-established.

Natural engineering

On the floor amongst the stands on the edge of Red Rise, a beautiful small nest probably dislodged by the recent strong winds. A simple combination of horse hair and moss fettled so masterfully as to produce a structure light and strong, insulated and protective, Just perfect for its purpose. Mother nature at her best.

Brinken

It was lovely reconnecting with Brinken Wood this morning. Brinken used to be a regular haunt of ours until the New Forest National Parks Authority closed the lay-by which had always allowed us direct access. Since then we've only skirted it's edge on some of our longer walks, but not had the opportunity to wander its familiar stands as we had. Silly really, it's just that we'd always used that lay-by. There are other ways to access Brinken which only involve short walks.

bee

It's been nice seeing the bees and ting enjoying our garden after what has so far been a rather insect free summer, year in fact. In particular our Lavender (Lavandula) are buzzing with activity, as dozens of frantically probing Bumble Bees (and other bees) winkle out flowery goodness; in the garden in general there's been a noticeable upturn in airborne activity, all sorts. As yet not to the levels one would expect normally though. Still cool.

Ober

Ober Water below Markway Bridge early this morning.

Burley Old

Smell the wet woodland. 

Peak green

With many of it's paths disappearing under a sea of towering growth the Common's reaching peak green.

Quick change

 

We followed this same route through the stands yesterday morning when we walked easily across exposed gravel stream bed; all change this morning though, recent rain saw Black Water posing an obstacle again. Not an insurmountable one though, as a few gravel patches remained.  But still, what a transformation.  

Narrative shmarrative.

 

It's horrible seeing our natural world so stressed, struggling under the pressures of rampant abuses and accelerating erratic change. I've always felt a deep connection to nature. I've been an environmentalist all my adult life, an activist on many occasions too, and grasp the reality of the magnitude of the crises facing us; because lets be honest the climate crisis isn't the end of the world, the world has survived far worse and will inevitably endure this too. No, it's the potential end of us or more precisely it's the end of this iteration of us; humanity may endure but it wont be like this.

So, I'm no denier. But, man, the current climate narratives leave me cold. Why? Primarily because they're all bollocks. Some purposely failing to address the foundational problem of our consumption/behavioural habits, in favour of the idea that 'growing' a 'green economy' where we essentially carry on our destructive behaviours through virtuous 'green' means will save us; a comforting fantasy for the privileged classes. A fantasy that's for the birds. Scrutinize the detail and none of it adds up. And what does the future look like for the growing body of marginalized  disenfranchised folk who aren't privileged with agency and opportunity? It looks at best to me quite like green feudalism and opportunity apartheid; the dystopian societies of scifi novels made manifest. Fuck that. Or you've the wailing doomers with their worst case scenarios, where there's no averting our extinction, we're the walking dead. I don't think fatalism is a motivator; unless the response you desire is 'well fuck it then'. Neither green techno-unicorn-ism or death cult narratives move us towards the change we need to make. I'm bored of hearing them. We need to acknowledge that wide ranging climatic and social change is now baked in; though if we get our heads out of our arses, there's a hope that strategies for our managed decline and survival could be achieved. I wonder though if we've really the desire or stomach for the change required. If the current narratives can't convince me as one who's already on board, how are they going to convince the uninterested, the sceptic or worse the denier?

14 pebbles

 

14 pebbles placed on the hollowed stump of an ancient tree. A good choice of spot. So what's this about then? I think the pebbles must have been brought out to the forest intentionally, that there's motive behind the circle beyond simply spontaneous art for art sake. Yes you could pick up pebbles in the forest, though the majority are dirty sub angular or angular, and those from the streams are frequently stained; no, these look more like selected coastal pebbles of roughly similar size, they're very clean too. Of course I reserve the right to be wrong, though I don't think I am. Burley Old again, there's something about these stands, something magical that compels people to be creative, to leave their mark; art, shelters and graffiti amongst other works great and small. The stands here do have something compelling about them; the magic of old woods maybe.

Mast

 

It's an outstanding year for Beech (Fagus sylvatica) mast (mast being the fruit or nut of the tree), throughout the forest the boughs are loaded with their rough hairy cups, each containing one or two nuts. Of course, we'll have to wait until September to see if they amount to much; quality and quantity of mast production is massively variable, they say you get a good mast season every few years, which is believed to be driven, in part, by weather/climatic factors. At home for the first time our small (20 year old) container (old chimney pot) grown Beech tree has some hairy cases on it.