Winter Slostice

The dawn of the shortest day heralds the beginning of our journey back into the light; Winter Solstice is upon us. Celebrate as hope is rekindled, the Sun is reborn, and another cycle begins. The forest is always beautiful, though this morning it was particularly so. It so often is. Even so, it still never fails wow you. Muffled by the mists which hung heavily in the valleys and clung to the stands, the forest was bathed in an air of tranquillity; fitting for such an auspicious morning. Solstice Blessings /|\

Below Wilverely plain

Another bright start to the day, the sun was really trying, though it was too cold for him to make much of an impact, everything remained dusted white, an icy glaze crowned puddles and pools, and as a consequence mists lingered over the mires and in the hollows below Wilverely plain. You know, beyond the heather canvas of the photo all the flora present are deemed 'invasive', mostly native though not in keeping with the chocolate box image created of the forest. Personally I'd love to see nature recolonize the landscapes it's been previously evicted from.

Frosty out.

Lost in the blinding whiteness of the tundra. Well, not exactly, through the forest was dusted throughout with ice, and its' puddles well glazed. Jack Frosts' last huzzah as spring fast approaches maybe. I read that the temperatures over Europe have been a degree or so higher than average, that surprised me. I'd felt that it had been colder than in recent years, more frosty mornings and all; turns out England has been enjoying cooler temperatures that average, and that of Europe. Apparently it's all to do with La Nina. I'm not complaining I enjoy a cold winter. Feels proper.

Pre sunrise

 

A mauve and gold pre-dawn sky over Wilverley Plain.

Wilverely Plain sunrise

 

Our walk at sunrise this morning was magical.

Another red sky

 

Over the years whenever I'd risen early to greet a sunrise marking a spoke on the wheel, I'd always say 'I must catch more sunrises', though of course I never did. I do now, and we've enjoyed a fair few gloriously hued sunrises as a consequence.

Another snowy walk

 

I was surprised to see how much snow had survived out in the forest. I wasn't expecting anything like this, snow still covers much of the open ground. The day is clear and cold, it feels colder than yesterday, and the snow is dry and crisp. Where there's not snow there's ice, it's horrible under foot, difficult walking. Worth it though, another day of snow.

Greater Butterfly Orchid

Another orchid that appears to be doing well this year out in the forest is the Greater Butterfly Orchid (Platanthera chlorantha), they're well represented over Wilverley Plain.

Coniferous invasion

 

You wouldn't believe how quickly the forests' open heathland would disappear if it weren't constantly manicured and curated by man. Only a handful of years ago this valley was nought but heather and grasses, just look at the number of conifers that have sprouted up. Imagine in another 5 years or so left unchecked. I shouldn't imagine these will go unchecked for long though; but you never know. I remember the forest back in the 70's having swathes of these colonizing conifers woods. I've said it before, the forest we see as natural for the most part couldn't be more contrived. I'd love to see some areas of the forest left to re-wild themselves naturally, I imagine it would be wonderful top watch. And walk.    

Tracks in time

A broad loosely linear ribbon of innumerable ruts running from Whitefield Moor on the outskirts of Brockenhurst up onto Hincheslea Moor and Wilverely Plain before snaking off towards either Holm Hill and Ober Water in one direction and Long Slades Bottom in the other; in some sections they're much more noticeable than others, in some sections they're so ephemeral as to be near invisible. You might reasonably think they're natural features caused by erosion or so such, maybe they could be signs of forestry works, or it's quite possible you'd overlook them all together amongst the heather and gorse. In fact they're an interesting archaeological feature from World War Two. Throughout the war the forest was used by various branches of the military, and these are the 80 year old tracks left by Churchill tanks of the 33rd Army Tank Brigade/43rd Bat Royal Tank Regiment on exercise hereabouts in 1942. One of the more recent layers of history etched onto the forests' landscape, joining numerous archaeological features reaching back thousands of years. My photo doesn't do the tracks or their scale justice, if you're interested check them out on a satellite map or LIDAR.

Holmhill Bog

 

Our walk this morning was out on the exposed open heath of Wilverley Plain and Holm Hill and adjacent wet heath and bog valleys of Holmhill and Duck Hole bogs. Through Holmhill Bog there's a raised path at a point where a pond has developed; the pond is about half a mile from Ober Water into which the bog eventually empties; the water here is clean and clear, the colour of strong black tea.

Hives of activity

Signs warn 'Caution Bees at work'. It's that time of year in the forest when the bees do their thing. The heathland is radiant, her purple cloak in full bloom, flowers all brimming with nectar, and clusters of hives now hide amongst the scattered clumps of gorse set to exploit natures bounty in the pursuit of glorious bee gold.

Winter Solstice sunrise

Geoff and I set out in the dark this morning in order to reach a good vantage point to see the Winter Solstice sun rise. Our chosen spot was Holm Hill on the edge of Wilverley Plain with good clear views eastwards. Holm Hill's a nice vantage point on the edge of a promontory of higher heathland plain surrounded by on three sides by low bogland (Duck Hole, Crab Tree and Holm Hill), which I feel gives it an added something, our ancestors favoured wetland, and it's adjacent dry land. Sound carries in the early morning forest, I could hear walkers chatting on a track-way across Holm Hill Bog, and for a moment I was cowed from running through some Awen's, then I thought...what the hey.  As the sun rose I chanted, I beathed in the fresh clean morning air and it felt good. What a glorious sunrise, clear enough to see the sun itself rise above the horizon, though with enough cloud to make the sky interesting. And the light, man, the gorgeous orange hued morning light, it bathed the sparse stands and open heathland in gold. A cycle ends, a cycle begins, lets hope this one is better than the last, which, for me at least, was utterly shite. Solstice Blessings y'all.