Epiphanies

I've been grateful for any moments of epiphany I've had, we all need them, things that have offered clarity, a change of perception or a key that's opened another door. They come in many forms and from diffuse sources. One that often comes to mind when I'm in the woods, predictably maybe, is reading Robert Holdstock's Mythago Wood. I was thinking whilst amongst the crowded stands of shadowy conifers, with their pockets of veteran deciduous trees appearing like magical groves, how profoundly Mythago Wood altered the way I perceived, received and related to landscape. I know it's fiction, don't underestimate the magic in the arts though. I've found there's often elements of genuine truth to be found in stories and lyrics, truths are just truths. Musing I wondered how best describe the gift the book had given me, and concluded that I couldn't adequately put into words how Mythago changed my perceptions, just that it did. Through it I managed a deeper richer connection to nature, the past, and an  understanding of how they're connected, it shone a beneficial light on my spiritual path too. Not that I base my spirituality on a book, though millions do, more that Mythago Wood was a lightning rod, it acted as a key to change, and that change was illuminating. I never really leave the woods, I understand that  now.

Fairy land

There's always something interesting to find off the beaten track, even if it's only just off the track. Take this 'Fairy Tree' in Wilverley enclosure, I know it's a fairy tree as it has a tiny sign on it saying so, to all intents and purposes it's a 'wishing tree'. The origins of the wishing tree extends way back into history, and possibly beyond, the 'Clootie Tree' is traditionally festooned with strips rag offerings representing wishes, similar practices can be found all over the world. Modern ones have extended the range of objects tied, hammered in (coins are a common item) or left at the tree. A fluttering rag caught my eye as we moved through the stands, it brought a smile, I like finding sites like this, although as I drew closer I saw there was a plethora of other things tied to the trees branches and scattered on the floor. There lies the issue, for me anyway, wood, stone, metal, string, fabric, shell, anything organic, there's quite a lot of scope there, it's all cool, it's the introduction of plastic, tinsel, glitter and similar that concerns me. I'm not criticizing these folk (I'm far from perfect) or their practices (well, their practices, a bit), I just wish people would think a little more, the idea's good, their motivations are good, that's clear by the wishes, it's all that plastic though, and there was a lot of it. Still that gripe aside, it's good to see folk customs persist, and even enjoy a bit of a renaissance. There'd been plenty of activity around this tree too, and there was plenty of interesting stuff hanging about its tree. As well as rag wishes and offerings, the tree was well covered in graffiti, mostly shallow carved individual letters (again, something which I know raises hackles). On one offering I saw '2017', so this tree's been used for a while now, the condition of many of the offerings confirmed it. I was intending to have thorough look about, but there were tinkly things on the branches, and their ceaseless jangling had Geoff all of a tither, so we moved off beyond the open mixed stands and the Fairy Tree, disappearing again into the dark conifers seclusion and quiet. Waiting to see what we find next. 

Light wave

Today bands of cloud scud across the sky driven by blustery winds, below them the light came in waves across the Chase as they passed, flooding Stonedown Wood with warm luminosity before ebbing away again, leaving the stands drained and quite flat by comparison. Still, lovely walking though.

Smashing

We only skirted the edge of Burley Old this morning and saw ten or more trees downed, most in two groups. In both a large tree had fallen taking out some of the surrounding smaller trees. This veteran beech of fair girth crushed at least three, a mature oak and two birch, maybe more it was quite a mess,  the core of the beech was well punky, and may have been why it succumbed to the winds, that and it's on the woodland fringe, exposed. Whilst a little further on a large oak had taken out another smaller oak, a beech, a birch and two hollies. As I say, we really only skirted the enclosure, I dread to think how many more are down. Burley Old has suffered terribly in recent years, losing the veteran trees is bad enough, losing the younger trees too, that just adds insult to injury. The enclosure looks a sorry state, particularly viewed through the seasons naked lens.

Dear Liza

There's a hole in my bucket dear Liza, dear Liza, to be honest Liza, it's more hole than bucket. Hanging on a simple hinge bolted through a gnarled old post, nothing else remaining of the gateway, nor any visible fence line for that matter, this old bucket here has certainly seen better days, and when those day's were one can only guess. I've mentioned before how the landscape of the Chase is a layer cake of human activity going back over five thousand years. Of those older phases only earthen evidence remains visible, barrows, banks and boundaries, whereas sometimes these more tangible relics remain of recent activity.

There's only one way

The light through the stands was lovely this morning. Setting off on today’s walk my mind was on a blog I'd read at breakfast by a local pagan type, in particular something the author had written about insecurities around whether they were a good or bad pagan. That resonated with me, though for me the anxiety manifests more as am I 'doing' this right? I'm confident in what my aims are, just not always in how I'm doing pursuing them. My rituals, as they are, can be quite mutable, often ad hoc, and always organic in nature (well nearly always, I do sometimes write things down). I like them, and I feel they work for me. Although still I wonder if I shouldn't follow a more established methodology, more ordered ritual. I enjoy organized ceremonies and open rituals, whether with a large group at Stonehenge, Glastonbury and Avebury, or with local groves (of which there are two, both lovely groups of people).  Most of the time though life gets in the way, and I end up following the solitary path. Of course there's no definitive pagan way, more a myriad of paths observing the traditional eight fold year, which happen to coalesce around a broad generally accepted framework. There's no doctrine, so I can't be doing it wrong really. Anyway, as the Rede says 'an you harm none, do as you will'. I don't know. Maybe writing stuff down would help, I've wanted to create my own quarter calls for a woodland setting for a while. I know it's confidence thing, and really the Levellers had it right with 'There's only one way of life, and that's your own'. Nice out today.

Reflection

The forest's a perfect place to reflect.

Turkey Tail

Swathes of Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor) are a common sight on the forests hardwood stumps and draped over fallen trunks. It's a powerful medicinal fungi whose many applications, although being known in traditional folk medicine for hundreds of years, are currently the most extensively researched of all medicinal mushrooms.

Moss Forest

The forest's moss is loving the wet.

Ober Water

The forest has been dry this winter, but for a handful of occasions we've been able to cross the forests streams without undue drama, although not today, today was how the forest should have been for most of the last couple of months. Between the higher dry ground of Ferny Knap and Rhinefield Sandy's, Ober Water flows through low wet grassland and heath. Usually a narrow stream when engorged as this morning the waters spill out, filling a myriad of former channels, creating a formidable obstacle. Crossing Ober Water was a bit of a kerfuffle today.

Nationalist graffiti

I wonder if we'll ever cure humanities distasteful nationalist and xenophobic tendencies? If you remember 1970's Britain (and the 1980's to a lesser degree) then you'll recognize the conjoined letters carved into the tree. NF, the National Front, racist boot boy bullies, white nationalists trumpeting Britain whilst doing Nazi salutes, to put them simply...the enemy. Ignorant racists, who also enjoyed a whole suit of other intolerances, and most of whom had never met a person of differing culture or ethnicity. Periodically they returned, in the 90's as the BNP, the British National Party and more recently as the EDL the English Defence League, nearly 50 years on, although the acronyms change, the same tired right wing nationalist rhetoric and slogans endure. Currently they're the most vocal and powerful I've known them, Brexit unleashed them, Brexit is based on xenophobia, they say 'not everybody who voted Brexit is a racist, though every racist voted Brexit'. And the same shit is happening all over. Thriving on fear and disenfranchisement, inexhaustible products of our political systems, they'll always find an angry desperate ear that'll listen. Sad times. I was afforded a schadenfreude moment with the most recent immigration figures though, predominantly white Christian Europeans down, predominantly coloured non Christian rest of the world types up, oh the irony, poetic really. And the graffiti is from 1970's, I don't think they made Rays after the 70's.  

The New Forest

When people think of the New Forest I'm sure it's of expansive woodlands, of which there are some 230 sq mi of broadleaved woodlands and enclosed mixed plantation, although there are also 59 sq mi of open grassland, heathland and wetland. The photo above is representative of much of the forests heathland, a mixture of dry heathland with pockets of wetland heath, wetland and carr woodland filling hollows in the undulating landscape. Many of the wetland heath areas are impassible, especially through the wet seasons, punctuated as they are by wetland proper, you'll often find yourself following the contours of the land, making a 5 minute walk as the crow flies, a 20 walk.  This view is of the lower reaches of Duck Hole and Duck Hole Bog taken from one of the Bronze Age Round Barrows which border Ferny Knap enclosure (one of the smaller enclosures 21 acres, enclosed 1843. Lovely morning.

Great Huntley Oak

It's always a pleasure spending time with the Great Huntley Oak, he's an elder in, if not the eldest in, this wood. He's held this spot in the forest through the centuries, to think he'd probably have been a sampling when Henry rallied his troops on St Crispen's Day, crazy, eh! The world would have been a very different place then. The whole nature of the forest has been transformed several times in the intervening years, the banning of old forestry practices to ensure wood for the Admiralty, then enclosures, the industrialization of forestry, the draining of the forest, and now its restoration. He's seen it all. Today the forest felt more like it should seasonally, as we sat at the base of the oak listening to raindrops hitting the dried leafy woodland floor around us. The rain was light and not at all too bothersome, and in fact the noise of rain on leaf was quite mesmerizing and absorbing, leading to a pleasant feeling of calmness looking out into the forest from our semi sheltered perch. 

Burley Old Enclosure

Burley Old Enclosure, 122 acres enclosed in 1700.

Red Rise relax

I sat a while by Red Rise Brook this morning, the forest felt so welcoming and calm. Sitting in a sunny spot, the brook gently babbling as it passed, I relaxed and just breathed, melding into the forest. After carrying out a series of Awens, I basked in those moments of aural clarity you enjoy after performing a mantra. I could hear all the forest, above the babbling brook I could hear a myriad of bird calls, some melodic, some excited, so many songs though, in the enclosure beyond two ponies called urgently to one another, whilst in the distant woodland a woodpecker drilled. What a lovely morning for a meditative wander. Geoff's stopped jumping at me when I'm awen-ing now, which is nice, having a hound excitedly launch themselves at you was somewhat distracting from my meditative pursuits. 

Chettle Head Copse Ramsons

Chettle Head Copse is a small area of Dorset woodland bordering Wiltshire, mainly Oak and neglected Hazel coppice, by April it'll be carpeted in pungent Ramsons, their heavy garlic scent betraying them long before you see their white flowers. Already the young Ramson leaves are breaking cover and colonizing the woodland floor, along with the tips of Bluebell. We're surely standing on the cusp of spring, or are we? For the last couple of years seasonal tricksters have been at play, the illusion of spring has been just that, followed by a sharp cold or wet snap. The plummeting temperatures and sodden ground have played havoc on the allotment for all those who get their first crops in the ground early, luckily that's not me. I tend to be quite laid back with my planting and take a much more laissez faire approach to my gardening once the crops are established too, intervening as little as possible.  Imagine my joy at discovering that there was such a thing as a 'no dig' philosophy in vegetable gardening... oh hosanna! Still, an illusion or not at the moment, the wheel turns and spring will arrive soon.And, I must get down the allotment.

Highland Water environs

A strange light flooded the forest stands this morning, Brinken Wood and Camel Green were imbued with earth magic, you could almost feel nature crackling with the energy of anticipation... spring approaches. Although the way the sun beams down, and the warmth with which it does, could trick you into thinking that spring was already upon us, though it's not, nor should it be. And as much as I tried to ignore it, frequently that bugger 'nagging doubt' invaded my consciousness, it's February this isn't right, is this how the end'll come, dressed as a friend.  Still, even in that knowledge, and feeling a little guilty, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the the sun on my face as we wandered wistfully along Highland Water.

Gregory Curvey lino cut print

I first came across Gregory Curvey's work through a Fruits de Mer compilation CD in a friends car which happened to contain a track from his band The Luck of Eden Hall. It was an instant hit with me and had me pre-ordering the bands next album as soon as I got home. That was a good buy, as have been subsequent releases. Gregory is an artisan musician of the highest calibre, accomplished across the arts, as part of an ensemble or as a solo artist he's a much in demand talented multi instrument musician, beyond that he's also a fabulous artist, imaginative designer and craftsman... and to cap it all he's a nice guy. I think he's a fecking ace artist, I'd place him right up there alongside Todd Rundgren (my absolute favourite musician). His latest solo release under the name Custard Flux 'Helium' on which he wrote, produced and played all the instruments as well as reconstructing the harmonium the album was based around was a tour de force, and if you haven't checked it out, do so, you too will be blown away. Though I digress. As I mentioned Gregory's also has extensive craft skills and is a wonderful artist, so the opportunity to acquire a piece of original Curvey art was not to be missed. A couple of weeks ago he'd posted some pictures of a Valentines lino cut print he was working on, lovely. Lino cut prints, like their forebears woodcuts, use lines judiciously to best convey subjects and feeling to best effect, and Gregory's 'Love' carved into an tree does that perfectly.  Curvey posted that the prints were available from Michigan's Blue Sparrow Art, so I ordered one. The shop owner was really nice, helpful too and on discussing postage from the states (a repeating bugbear of mine especially in relation to bandcamp) I decided to trust the postal gods and have it sent letter post. The gods smiled on me and my lino cut print arrived this morning, and wonderful it is too. There's nothing like an original piece of art, I think it's the tiny little organic details which are smoothed out in most reproduction, that, and of course, it's real. Don't take my work though, check out Blue Sparrow Art and pick up a print yourself, you wont be disappointed.

Grey day

When the sun's shining you can easily forget that it's February, bathing in that faint warm glow, imagining spring has sprung. It came over really quite grey this morning as we sat amongst some veteran beech in South Oakley, and looking upwards I was reminded that winter still reigns.

February moon

February's full moon.

Wired

A coil of galvanized fence wire is firmly embedded in this silver birch tree.  Or it maybe two birch trees grown, really, really, close to each other, I couldn't properly make out.  The exposed wire of the coil looks in good shape, weather though still looking new. I don't know how long the coil's been there, although the tree's a reasonable size, birch is a fast grower, mind.  Still, I'd say the wire's been there for 20-30 years.

Burley Old clearing

Last month I posted about an enclosed cleared area I'd come across in Burley Old Enclosure, and I'd speculated as to its purpose.  One proposition I put forward was it might have been ritual and in some way associated with other man made (or enhanced) features that felt congruous to each other. I visit the clearing today, and what I discovered certainly lends some credence to that hypothesis. There's a fallen tree that truncates part of the cleared area, on it had been placed a natural wooden plate, on which were the remains of an offering of seeds. Quite significant, as a couple of weeks ago it was Imbolc marking the beginning of Spring, seeds are often used in Imbolc rituals or as seasonal offerings. It's certainly a great woodland setting for a ritual. I wonder if there'll be any activity at the equinox? We'll see.

Views from the Old Shaftesbury Drove

Took the opportunity to walk out in the Chase this afternoon, and what wonderful walking it was. The views from the Old Shaftesbury Drove, looking north towards the hinterland of Wiltshire and south towards the Ox Drove ridge, from which you can see clear across Dorset to the Isle of Wight and the Channel. Today was my first walk of the year without a hoodie or coat, and as lovely as it was (and it was), it's not right, not so early into February, really I should be hunkered under layers. 

Douglas Bark

Gnarly bark the old Douglas Fir, colourful too.

Vinney Ridge arched oak

Vinney Ridge is one of those pockets of ancient unenclosed, mainly deciduous, open woodland, all old pollarded beech and gnarly oaks with an under-story of scattered holly and birch. The trees here are weathered and worn, bearing the scars of time and countless duels with the elements. Many have succumbed, though more endure, and amongst their number some remarkable trees who although slighted in battle remain defiant, even if distorted. Take this noble arched ancient oak, you can see in its bowed and twisted form the consequences of damage done decades ago, it takes many many years for a trunk of that girth to turn up towards the sun. A natural woodland sculpture and climbing frame, with a walk through arch, it really is a wonder. Respect to this elder of the woodland massiv.

Berry Beeches

We've not walked this way for at least two or three years, it's good walking your less frequented routes.. Berry Beeches stand on the northern edge of the expansive South Oakley enclosure, an unenclosed old beech, oak and holly woodland in a mostly open setting, nestled below Backley Plain on the border of the wider plains which run through the upper central forest. It feels, as you'd imagine, an isolated and exposed place, but also has a touch of the weird and creepy about it. It's the sort of woodland I remember filled with fog from the pulp horror movies of the 60's and 70's, especially the  Hammer films. As is common throughout the forest there are a number of closely paired oak and beech dotted about.  One pair certainly had that creepy movie aesthetic, an oak, now a shadow of his former self in his final trimester and his healthy beech partner, continue to dance entwined, oblivious as the rigors of times march on old oak. As I sat in the woods the weirdiness was accentuated by Geoff, a few meters from me, as he stood alert and fidgety looking off into the woods as if something scary was approaching, suddenly spooked he ran towards me, scared, looking back as he ran, sitting at my feet, again his ears up and alert nervously looking off into the woods. There was nothing there, or rather, nothing I could see. As I sat awhile Geoff periodically looked off through the stands for whatever he sensed, though eventually he appeared content that there was nothing there and relaxed. It's funny how the rational mind retreats leaving your primal mind to step forward, and you can't help but feel a shiver when your hound's spooked by the invisible. 

Sunny trunks

Though the forest may be wet and sloppy underfoot, this morning a gradually strengthening sun shone hope through the tall conifer stands of South Oakley of spring to come.

Scratch

Tis but a scratch.

Four beech sisters

Until a couple of years back there were five beech sisters standing on a promontory of open ancient woodland between two fingers of boggy stream. Standing so close to one and other, in relative isolation, they were quite a feature, then one storm the sister most exposed on the edge of the slope, was slighted. Now, the four remaining sister beeches form a tight square symmetry, to remain a feature in the woods, just a different one. If anything, a more striking and enigmatic one. Four holds some significant importance too: the four seasons, the four cardinal points (I must check the trees orientation), the four elements, or the four cross quarter days, to name a few.  It's a place that has presence. I've always passed through, I think though maybe I should stop for a while sometimes, take time to take things in. I do wonder though, if over time and so closely anchored, a battle royale of endurance will develop, or maybe their intimacy will bind them in strength and immovable tenacity.  That's a long game, mind, and will take many many years to resolve. In the meantime, a quartet of fine beeches.

A feast from above

Another windy storm means another veteran tree succumbs to the elements in Burley Old. Nothing goes to waste in nature though, and the soft barked boughs and branches of the grounded canopy make a welcome feast for the forests ponies, whose increased numbers are causing food shortages, leaving them hungry. 

Portent

They do say 'red sky at night, Shepherds delight', so a portent for a brighter, drier tomorrow maybe? 

Hidden green worlds

I've mentioned before how the mosaic nature of Wilverely enclosure allows for endlessly different walking combinations within the same enclosure, if you plan well you can walk through only deciduous or pine, or mix it up. Today we entered the mossy green world of the pines. You'd think of conifer plantations as being uniform, and they often are, although in the centre of Wilverely is a large mosaic of conifers of different varieties and ages, and it makes for immersive  walking. The mosaic of conifers has no man made paths, though it's criss crossed by myriad animal paths which wind through and between tightly packed low boughed young trees, open mature tall pine stands and everything conifer in between. A striking feature of these woods is the lush and verdant green moss which carpets the floor. When you're used to walking the open heathlands or open beech and oak stands, this enclosed world is interesting and stimulating. 

Barrow Moor

Barrow Moor deep in the forest, an ancient woodland packed with plenty of majestic pre enclosure trees, is always good walking. It's an interesting woodland, in a ruffled landscape, and being the headwaters of one of the forests many smaller tributary streams, several of the ruffles are bog filled making navigation difficult and confusing if you don't know the area. If you do know the area and you're canny about your route, you don't have to travel far to travel far. By which I mean you can walk for two or three miles in the same relatively small area of woodland without walking the same path twice (beyond a couple of nodal points and causeways), nor ever seeing the same views, and although they may well often be the same trees seen differently different aspects are illuminated. I walk Barrow Moor like this frequently, and I never get bored of it. It's a tardis of a wood. 

Wooson's Hill graffiti

At first glance this graffiti on a veteran beech at Wooson's Hill is reminiscent of the forestry marks you commonly see around the forest, and it could be, I suppose, although, these forestry marks are usually more superficially carved and have a greater degree of fluidity in style. And, as I say this is 'reminiscent' of, though not the same. I think this graffiti means something else, it's been carved with a different intention. What that intention is, I don't know. It was deeply carved, and although it's really hard to date graffiti on trees without some indicating feature (there are so many variable factors to take into consideration), I reckon, by the way it's healed and scared it was created some years ago. Another forest mystery. 

Red Ivy

At this time of the year the forest is all greens and browns, so any hint of another colour is amplified, noticeable even from a distance.

Kimmeridge

Although the sky was a clear blue and the young sun shone brightly over Kimmeridge Bay, still on the surrounding hillsides and in the valley and hollows beyond, snow clung on. It was a great day for walking, the air was crisp and clean, and there were few people about. I was expecting to walk out around the Kimmeridge bowl to Townley Shenton's seat, though I found the range gates locked when they shouldn't have been. I don't know what that was about. So, anyway, instead I took the cliff top east towards the base of Swyre Head. Man, the cliff top path along here feels sketchy walking at best, it's very narrow, and slightly slopes towards a high sheer drop, add mud and ice and it was terrifying at times.  Some way along the path, over the fence in a field, is an abandoned military observation post, which at one time clearly had other features associated with it, now long gone, with only mounts and rubble remaining. I stopped for a while, the views through the posts small embrasures along the coast in both directions were fantastic. It must have been a nice posting in the summer, though I'd imagine bleak and foreboding in bad weather, or the depths of winter. Back on the scary cliff top the path rose and fell, with several little foot bridges crossing narrow gullies through which water raced before cascading off the cliff. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, my route turned inland, away from the frightening cliff path and I could relax. I don't know why take routes that scare me so, maybe it's a to challenge my fears, or maybe I'm just a fool. I walked back through the valley below the snow capped ridge which makes up the eastern length of the Kimmeridge bowl, before climbing back up to quarry overlooking Kimmeridge. As you can imagine, if the snow endured on all the sunny southern faces of the Purbeck Hills, the predominantly north facing slopes of the Purbeck Ridge remained firmly under winters snowy embrace. The roads over the ridge at Grange Hill and Cocknowle were both glazed and treacherous driving, as I found out descending from Cocknowle, I thought I'd be through the fence at one point.  Another memorable day at the coast.

Imbolc

Though winter still holds us in her grip,
through her fingers we'll eventually slip.
Look carefully out of the corner of your eye,
that's the shoots of spring and hope you'll spy.

Imbolc blessings y'all.