Brockis Hill

Today is a perfect end of autumn day. The air is chill and clean, but for occasional whiffs of wood smoke which drifted though the stands, cementing the sense of autumns end and winters swift approach. It's not too cold, mind, frequently old Sol is free of cloud, and still has enough strength to cast out a warming glow. It's quiet too. Jobs done, and shop closed for the winter break, for the most part the forests critters are resting. Not the squirrels though, they're still darting about. The canopies to are also quiet, with their leaves now grounded, the tree tops sway in silence. It's lovely walking, difficult under foot, though lovely. This part of the forest is wet, even the leaf carpeted woodland is wet under foot, and you'll be walking 3 or 4 inches below what looks like the surface. It makes for a lot of slipping and sliding. The sun is nearing the horizon as I walk back, a dirty looking cloud drops it's load lightly. 'A fox's riddle, and a monkey's dance' is what my mother used to say when the sun shone and it was raining at the same time. I've always remembered it, and wondered about it's meaning. Metaphors for the juxtaposition of conditions, and the mischief it suggests, I'd imagine. 

Summer of '67

Every now and again I come across a really stunning piece of graffiti, today was one of those days. Amongst the invasive Holly thicket, on a mature Beech, I found this beautifully executed and dated piece the 'Summer of Love 1967'. There's real skill on show here, an eye for detail and neatness which (in my experience) is rarely found with carved graffiti after the middle years of the last century and most often associated with carvings of the late 1800's. Lovely work. Though I still wrestle with whether I'm for or against carving trees, usually it's the nature of the carving which decides which side I fall on; is it done with love, is it done cleanly with as little damage as possible, has it a message. I wonder how the tree would feel about it, being tattooed, carrying a humans message way way beyond the life of that human, allowing them and their message longevity. I like to think the trees don't mind doing that for people, compared with the other things that effect them a piece of graffiti (usually) has little to no negative effect on them. They're bloody good to us trees.

Horseshoe Beech

One of the forests mighty ancient Beeches, formally a pollarded tree it was probably left to grow out when pollarding and coppicing were outlawed in the forest in the pursuit of naval timber. Although this is a lovely example of a tree from that period, there are many similar trees spread through the forests woodlands, though what singled this one out for me was the up turned horseshoe affixed high up its broad trunk.  The up turned horseshoe in folklore is associated with luck, but why it should be here on this tree on Brockis Hill is a mystery to me. The horseshoe looks quite old, but as with so many things like this dating by appearance only is hit and miss at best. The hill top exhibits signs of quarrying at some time in the past, maybe the good luck charm is associated with them. I wonder if anybody still knows who or why is was put up. Another forest mystery.