Beltaine

The wheel, forever turning, now arrives at Beltaine, the sacred union of earth and sky, joining the bright one and the maiden; cleansing fires will purify the night and prepare the land. For where our May Queen, our Flower Bride passes stem, bud and flower burst forth with youthful vigor, symbols of purity, new growth and annual renewal; she is abroad and new life burgeons.The eternal race has begun and all life eagerly takes part, fertility floods our lands. Plans and dreams hatched through the dark half of the year are now energetically undertaken, goals pursued. Run swift, keep keen senses, be true to your dreams and yourself, and may all your aspirations see fruition.

Pinnick Spring

The forest air displays the unusual paradox of being both thick and thin; thick, heavy and muggy and at the same time so thin in oxygen that a deep breath hardly satisfies the lungs. All change. A welcome cool breeze rushes through the stands, swirls of fresh, invigorating air flood the forest, stirring the dense silent carpets of Blue Bells which fill Pinnick Wood. As we breath in the refreshed air a Cuckoo begins a lengthy repetitive call from high in the crown of a nearby ancient Oak, the upper boughs of which extend upwards towards the sky above. Glancing aloft sees a myriad of caterpillars repelling from the branches via invisible silken threads or taking the plunge and giving themselves to gravity. Their arrival on the leaf litter below is marked by a quiet cacophony, akin to a distant rain stick slowly turned. It's raining caterpillars and on inspection I find myself covered in frantically wriggling greens, browns and black cm long larva. Natures great.

Fletchers Water cleared

Where Fletchers Water breaks from the shade of the enclosure of the same name it takes on the straight course of an altered waterway. The water was flanked by a dense thicket of young trees and hedgerow shrubs; was past tense, for now 9 out of every 10 tree and shrub have been removed during forest maintenance. The vista is completely altered. I must confess that in one cropped section in particular, the views are much improved. My usual reaction to such cutting would be to resent the interference and change in the forest, although I didn't feel that here; maybe it was the shock of such wholesale destruction, or that the water course was unnatural anyway, or maybe I'll return to my senses and be filled with nostalga pangs for what was.

Rhinefield

A strong spring sun retreats below the tree tops silloetting Rhinefield bridge, the point where Black Water becomes Fletchers Water, spreading golden light through the stands of Fletchers Thorns and Vinney Ridge Enclosures.

Stour above Iford Bridge

Green

Burley Old dressed in the resplendant greens of fresh spring burgeoning.

Hurst revisted

Hurst Castle

Highland Water

I still fear that the forest streams are showing too much gravel bed for so early in the season; a bad portent for the season to come, maybe a hard time to come and certainly if the drought continues a dangerous time ahead

Return to Handfast

Mondays mission to Handfast Point and Old Harry was cut short by the tides, which as we're all aware 'wait for no man' and rescue by the coastguard could be embarrassing. Today though the tides were with us as we undertook our unsteady ramble over the rock strewn, seaweed covered shoreline out the Point and our rewards were manifest.

Burley sprung

Naked no more, the canopy of Burley Old Enclosure is slowly developing its verdant spring cloak, bit by bit the unhindered vistas through the bare stands retreat as the woodland withdraws from view; born a new in hues of green to be enjoyed by the traveller, in singular seclusion the secret pockets and shaded groves. The crisp leaf litter under foot loudly announces our approach. Deer now spy us from a far, on a rise a white doe watches our passage; white deer are strikingly visible at any time of year, but on closer inspection one, two, four or more regularly coloured companions become visible. Ready to bolt at a moments notice, they're off, concerned at our presence they disappear into the dusk. As evening fills the stands the dusk chorus sings last post for an egg yolk orange sun glimpsed through ancient Beech and Oak retreating below the horizon; all around is movement and noise as the night shift prepares.

Handfast Point

Burley spring

Invader!

The Harlequin ladybird is a recent invader to our shores, first recorded in the east of England in 2004.

Free at last

Nearby is an apple tree, an apple tree which still yearly offers up fruit and yet over the last few years we've watched it become encroached upon, under siege and finally conquered by aggressive brambles, as thick as your thumb with thorns like razor wire. No more could be taken and after a couple of hours chopping and cutting, with its damaged limbs trimmed and invasive ivy removed the apple tree is free at last. There should be a 'before' photo, yet enthusiasm for the task at hand meant there is only an 'after' photo.

Lotty

This is the 2011 before photo, still visible are the remaining crops from last season, leeks and celeriac; this years herbs are all shooting up and tonight it's rhubarb crumble. Sweet.

7 Spot Ladybird

Old School

It's funny how ideas get 'recycled'. We're all encouraged, cajoled and in some cases bullied to recycle what we can, dutifully separating our waste items ready for collection. Finding an old bottle along Red Rise Brook , I was transported way back in to the 1970's, when I can remember enthusiastically collecting returnable bottles. We didn't know we were recycling, we didn't know much about the environment, in fact, back them it was just known as 'outside'. We liked outside, it was cool, and we knew that if we could get my hands on a Corona bottle or two and return them safely to our local corner shop, we'd be rewarded with hard cash; I say hard cash as it were only pennies, yet pennies could buy you plenty when you're 8. This bottle must have been languishing, unreturned in the forest for 40 years, as its reward is 3d, old money, and so must date from before 1971 and decimalization. It's survived well.

Holidays Hill

It's raining in Holidays Hill Enclosure 1681, it would appear that my recent comments regarding the dry nature of the forest may have been a bit previous. April showers, a quintessentially English thing. The forest is subdued, shrouded; although still the moisture filled air and grey leaden skies can't suppress the riot of bird song which continues to swell through the high tops of ancient trees or the frequent groups of deer processing through the stands, as all nature waits restlessly on springs starting blocks.

Burley Old

Spring

A bright warm light which is periodically released from behind the ominous grey clouds racing over head, is enough to envibe, the still naked for the most part, wood and heath. Masked once again by the fleeting clouds, bereft of sun rays, the woodland returns to somber hues, while the air chills and dampens. Throughout these frequent elemental changes the joyous songs of a myriad of birds endures and remains constant, filling the majestic crowns of 300 year trees with activity and dense sound. The trees have seen and heard it all before; soon it will be their time to join the march. Some trees can't wait and tentatively vibrant green young leafs begin to unfurl; a glimps of what's to come.

Spring Morning in Ober Valley

Marker?

Where the plateau of Wilverly Plain gives way to the low boggy heathland flanks of Ober Water, amongst the undulating slopes and huddles of gorse, where several paths transect as they traverse the land, is a small clump of Daffodils. These Daffodils aren't our small native variety, rather the commercial strain. You can't but think that their positioning is purposeful. The chosen location is an open natural hollow, a spot where paths from every direction cross; being the only blooming flowers amidst seas of myriad shades of orange and brown hues which mark the previous season, their bright nodding heads naturally draw the eye. No matter from which path or direction you approach this tiny stand of gold is clearly visible. If they where planted with purpose, what was the motivation, what were the circumstances? Why? Or, maybe it's purely a random natural occurrence and I think too much.

Markway

Hawkhill

It's a damp grey day, light rain blow through the forest. Smoke drifts silently off amongst the remaining trees of Hawkhill Enclosure (1870) a substantial pyre of woodland detritus crackles and pops as the flames take hold; flames lick out driven by swirling gusts. The dense woodland now reduced to neatly piled trunks lining the nearby gravel track. This section of Hawkhill is being stripped bare, returned to a semblance of its past self, open heathland; there are several massive heaps waiting to be ignited and in two or three years, if undertaken well, no sign of plantation will remain.

Burley Old Enclosure

Corfe Castle

Birken

The forest is radiant this morning, as a rider put it 'the best morning of the year so far' and you can't argue with that; the light is clean and the air fresh, the juxtaposition between the warm spring sun and the light chill hanging amongst the trunks and along the stream all combined to create an atmosphere of serene beauty. It feels like spring proper. The forest wildlife know it too; the tree tops ring with myriad bird calls, whilst nearby large herds of Fallow Deer graze in numerous sunlit glades. Winter has been drier than usual and the streams reflect this; Highland Water burbles over exposed gravel banks, a more common sight in late spring / early summer. Still, the gentle sound of water winding its way through woodland is therapeutic in itself and never fails to move one.

Hunting lodge

Buried in wet woodland on the fringe of Fletchers Green and truncated by the straightened 18th century course of Fletchers Water are the banked and ditched remains of one of several medieval royal hunting lodges scattered over the forest. Situated shortly before the confluence of Fletchers Water and Highland Water, this lodge is considerably bigger in area than others such as Studley Castle or Church Place. These sites represent temporary accommodation to be used whilst on hunting trips built in 1358 during the reign of Edward the third (1327 - 1377), historical records suggest these buildings would have been simple plastered wood constructions with possibly a Purbeck stone roof; evidence of Purbeck stone has been uncovered on these sites.

Equinox

The young sun grows in potency and the earth awakes; the Goddess of spring is abroad. Bathed in light the land warms and new life stirs in hedgerow and field, along sparkling streams and through wooded glade. Amongst still bare boughs birds fill the air with song, amongst the root stock sap rises to feed bud and stem, whilst in between all life anticipates, a time of preparation, a time to plan; the burgeoning will soon begin. A point of balance, of equilibrium between night and day, of peace.

Groyne

Notable or notorious?

Notable or notorious? Buried deep amongst the shady confines of Knightwood enclosures coniferous plantations, the Eagle Oak stands as if hidden away in shame. The Oak itself is innocent of any crime, although it was the site of a most shameful event when in 1810 a forest keeper, for reasons hard to fathom, shot the last Sea Eagle in our land which had shelter amidst the boughs of the afore mentioned Leviathan. Eagle Oak, one of the true ancients of the forest, is weathered, many of its branches know little more than ragged stumps; still, steadfast, bruised and battered by the elements and time this ancient tree endures as does the Sea Eagle who has tentatively, 200 years later, been reintroduced in to the UK.

Jurassic high point

Swathed in gentle mists rolled in from the sea, the Purbeck Hills exuded an air of tranquility and beauty; although in juxtaposition, the land's alive, rustling in the hedgerows, bird song filling the eager boughs of soon to bud trees, the sounds of activity everywhere, all bathed in spring sun. From Swyres Head, at 203m the highest point of the Jurassic coast, westwards, the hills and shore towards Lulworth and beyond remained shrouded throughout the day.

Carbon Grey 1

Carbon Grey is a new Image title, beautifully drawn and exquisitely rendered, with the possibility of a good tale to boot. Set in a future present post WW1? alternative reality type world of automatic weapons and airships, where Germany appears to project a powerful presence; this first issue is fast paced, opening with the brutal assassination of the Kaiser, setting the scene and introducing the sisters Grey. The art is something else, the style, the lines, the expressions and the colours; the colour pallet is well chosen and fantastically deployed. Certainly a title to keep an eye on.

Dam

Along Avon Water the natural dam of logs, fallen boughs and a myriad of woodland detritus, which began to form a couple of years ago, continues to have a dramatic effect on the surrounding woodland. Although now in several sections, spread over some 15m, it remains an effective barrier spewing some 70% of Avon Waters flow into the adjacent woodland, causing the refilling of previously abandoned water courses, as well as creation new ones. The woods are awash. The saturation and erosion caused by the flooding has weakened several trees leading to an increase in toppled trunks. The redirected water flows through ancient meanders which again criss cross the wood; the woodland here is now a mix of scoured channels and heaps of redeposited materials. There is no doubt that present meandering water course is original; this is especially noticeable with Avon Water being so unnaturally straight. The revived ancient course doesn't return to the linear Avon Water until it reaches the open area 200m down stream.

Bramshaw

Om

Graffiti........archaeology?

Is graffiti archaeology? Archaeology is the study of our pasts, our societies and cultures, explored through the analysis of our material culture and cultural landscapes. If we find rock art, cave paintings or an inscription on the base of a Samian ware vessel, we marvel, imagining the motivations and lives of those who left the mark; yet we frequently pass graffiti carved trees without register or care. These more recent inscriptions nevertheless have a story to tell.

Highland Water below Roman Bridge

Soarley Beeches

It feels more like Spring every day, the air is lighter, warm sun shines between fleeting clouds and spring flowers begin to emerge from their dark hibernation. Primrose blooms can be seen unfolding in places, weeks earlier than they should be. Soarley Beeches, a mix of ancient Beech and Oak, crowns a hillock overlooking Soarley and Blackensford Bottoms, dank wet heathland, grasses and tussocks; standing proud, it's buffeted by relentless winds and endures all the elements can throw at it, as the fallen boughs and scared trunks attest too. Still, this small stand has a special, memorable quality, an ambience that welcomes you, creating a feeling of wonder whilst you're within its shade. The majesty of these ancient giants is inspiring, uplifting, you feel their presence, this is their place and has been for hundreds of years.