For trees?

 .....for trees?

Red Kite?

 

Three birds of prey circled each other as they glid smoothly around the contours of the hillside; I think they were Red Kites (Milvus milvus). Red Kites were once a persecuted species seen as vermin, by the end of the 18th century their numbers  were reduced to a few pairs in Wales. Thankfully years of successful reintroduction programs have seen their numbers soar to 1800 breeding pairs, still mostly in Wales, through present in increasing numbers in parts of England and Scotland too. Beautiful birds, and wonderful spectacle to observe.

Broad hedge or narrow wood

I can't make my mind up as to whether these represent broad hedges or narrow woods? You'll come across a lot of footpaths like this, shown as open paths on OS maps, although upon visiting you'll find a path running through a couple/few meter wide band of shrub and tree. I'm not complaining or ought, they're handy for crossing this exposed landscape under a relentless summer sun, particularly with your hound in mind when the more shaded walking the better. We took this example this morning; a branch off the Ackling Dyke which crosses the Ox Drove before descending through Church Bottom into Broad Chalke and the Ebble Valley about 2 miles or so. A lovely route.

Burley Old

 Broken, naked, and exposed; Burley Old, a winter portrait.

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon, the first full Moon of the new cycle, and what a doozy; a radiant Moon high in a crisp clear sky, with not even the gentlest of breeze, perfect conditions for a fire. I've always found, no matter the reason, sitting round a fire such a natural act, a real human act the transcends time or place, and one of a suit of activities which connect us to the ancestors; people have sat/gathered around a fire since people mk1. Fires have always been an thing in our social group too, frequent happenings, and it was rare to spend time by a fire alone; I tried to remember the last time I sat with others round the fire; I couldn't; nor could I remember a lot of other 'last times' I.......whatever. That led to musing an uncomfortable thought I'd had bubbling; I've had a plan throughout the pandemic, a strategy, although, I haven't a cogent exit strategy. And why would I? You have virologists saying we're entering a period of a few years when covid'll be endemic, a media narrative of getting on with it...living with covid, and the government's suggestion it could soon relax restrictions; Whilst at the same time, my wife's being invited to have a forth jab and the government's behavioural advice to the clinically vulnerable remains unchanged; think Jonah Hill in 'Take him to the Greek' gif.  I'm getting the feeling like the helicopter's leaving the embassy and some of us are going to be left behind.

Cranborne

The Ebble Valley looking eastwards from Marleycombe Hill; we'd just climbed the steep track up from Bowerchalke, and watched a silent bird of prey gracefully glide around the contours of the hillside. I don't think we've roamed these ways since summer or even earlier last year; it was capital to be back tramping Cranborne's ancient tracks, and we couldn't have wanted a better morning for it. Today's sky was pale blue, cloudless and near still; early on it was very cold mind, especially on the exposed hilltops, though you soon warmed up as we and the day got moving. A section of our route took us through the Ebble Valley, following the river between the hamlets of Broad Chalke and Bowerchalke; both lovely villages, I particularly enjoy the architecture of the older buildings, some looking unchanged in centuries, others tapestries of change, all enchanting. 

Murd

Geoff's indignant expression may be on account of me having just called him a wanker.....jokingly! And he is. I don't think he could've found a muddier puddle, nor one whose mud was of such a black silty consistency, perfect for infiltrating a retriever's hairy coat. Of course, he was happy as Larry; not so much though when we reached Dockens Water and we had to go through the dance of washing the mud of his face...he's not a fan, nor I, we both always end up wet.  

Broomy

This morning's walk began under a heavy grey sky, though as we progressed the clouds slowly broke releasing a radiant sun whose light probed the woodland and raked the open heath; the sun cast beams as seen through the lingering woodland mists which hung amongst the stands of Broomy enclosure made for quite the magical walk; and had any mythago wandered in to view, it would not have appeared out of place.

Orange sunset over Christchurch harbour

Orange sunset over Christchurch harbour.

A perfect end to the day.

Poole Harbour

Poole Harbour; at 14 square miles, said to be the second biggest nature harbour in the world after Sydney Harbour.

Studland

We returned to Studland this morning, this time for a more pedestrian roam that yesterday's 9.2 mile speed march from Shell Bay over Ballard Down and back; exhilarating as that was. I love this sandy peninsular, it's deeply layered in memories for me; I remember summer days here as a child, I've walked it's beaches and dunes countless times over the years, had my first psilocybin experience amongst it's dunes, slept in it's dunes, spent years meticulously recording the areas unique Second World War archaeology, and most memorably, the endless happy hours on adventures with my kids. It's beyond a doubt one of our regions most precious gems; you know, it blows me away when I mention Studland or Purbeck to local people, or at least people who've lived here for years, and they either don't know either or have heard of them though never/rarely visit! Today was a perfect winter walk.

The Pinnacles and Old Harry

 

Ballard Down and the eastern end of the Purbeck Ridge, and the furthest point eastwards of the Jurassic Coast, are famous for the bright white chalk stacks and arches of the Pinnacles and Old Harry rocks.

Frame Wood

 

Frame Wood; old unenclosed New Forest.

Wet today

Man, it's bloody wet out in the forest at the moment. To clumsily paraphrase Ripping Yarn's Eric Olthwaite, 'forest's wet today, Mother, even the dry bits are wet'. Avon Water must be in the running for the most extensively restored stream in the forest; from the A35 to the base of Boundway Hill, the stream has been returned to it's pre-Victorian course; and the slowing of the flow has had the desired effect, water is being held back in the forest longer, subsequently the woodland which fringes Avon Water are becoming increasingly waterlogged, to the point of becoming seasonally impassable...especially after a period of rain. It's at times like these that I'm reminded what a forbidding landscape the New Forest must have been to the traveller in the past.

People Under The Stairs ''O.S.T.''

Now, I'm by no means a 'hippity hop' aficionado, but I know what I like, and from the first time I heard People Under The Stairs I was immediately taken by the quality of Thes One and Double K's work. So when I heard there'd been a repressing of People Under The Stairs' 2002 release ''O.S.T.'' available, I had to snap a copy up. The album arrived this morning and moments later disk one was spinning; compared to mp3 the vinyl is a whole different listening experience, man, a far richer and more textured listen. Ostensibly a traditional straight up hip hop album, it's apparent simplicity belies the genius and beauty of it's meticulous crafting, keeping the sound of O.S.T simultaneously classic and fresh; employing the best samples, all masterfully woven, deepest laid back grooves, and the finest old skool breaks and beats, ''O.S.T.'' is just so good. I thoroughly recommend this enjoyable album; an album that's impossible not to move to; hip hop at it's most organic and purest. Perfect!

All that glitters

All that glitters isn't necessarily gold, no, sometimes it's just shite left behind by morons! I mean what the f*ck, man! I never fail to be bewildered by people's proclivity for the illogical; in this case that 'they' can carry the full, and therefore heavier, cans out, though find it impossible to carry the lighter crushable empty cans home; or more pertinently, that 'they' must, I imagine, choose these spots for their unspoilt beauty, and then effectively do a big shit on them by leaving their crap behind when 'they' leave; you find this weird behaviour replicated at so many of our beauty spots. So lazy, such ignorance; it's all about 'them'. I mean what the f*ck, man!

1837

1837, that's an old piece of graffiti. I like the way the carving's expanded as the tree's grown, with the one probably being close to it's original size and the subsequent numbers being increasingly stretched, leaving the seven considerably enlarged. Nice.

Rowbarrow

You'd be mistaken if you though the new Forest was a 218 square mile block homogeneous woodland and open heath, far from it; although broadly the floral matrix of the New Forest is uniform, I mean you'll see the same mix of trees and plants throughout, though each region of the forest appears to have a unique feel to it, each a certain individual je ne sais quoi. Rowbarrow here should be like any other New Forest open deciduous woodland, and ostensibly through many metrics it is, but at the same time it's not, it has 'it's' something that marks it out; I'm not making sense, I can't find the right words to articulate what I mean.  Must try harder. Anyway, I'm enjoying reacquainting myself with this beautiful tract of forest.

Oooh, it's nippy out.

Oooh, it was nippy out in the forest this morning, a proper frost covered all exposed surfaces; it's good to see Jack active amongst the stands. That said, the weather of late has been a proper roller-coaster, cold followed by the warmest New Year on record, followed by an icy snap; it's not right, whatever happened to seasonal predictability and consistency. Forest winters are always best when they're cold.

Worts gutter

They're replacing the road bridge on the A35 at Holmesley, as a consequence a couple of mile section of the A35 is scheduled to be closed until April, denying us easy access to our usual roams; as such, alternative roams need rostering.  So we find ourselves walking in parts of the forest I've not regularly walked in years; in fact, not since around 2012-ish when Norris was young, so 10 years. It's quite exciting to see how much the landscape has and hasn't changed, and whether or not I remember the lay of the land and it's paths; so far so good. I'm looking forward to reacquainting myself, and acquainting Geoff with this wonderful tract of the forest and it's inhabitants. Today's initial foray was a joy.

Bishop's Dyke

Gnarly trees grow on the bank of Bishop's Dyke, a medieval bank and ditch covering 4.5 miles and enclosing 500 acres of, what today is, very boggy ground. Legend has it that earthwork marks a packet of land held by John de Pontoise, Bishop of Winchester in 1284, which he acquired after Edward 1st told him he could enclose any land that he could crawl around in a day; whether that's true or not is uncertain, other suggestions are that it was a 13th century deer park or cattle farm; both would require the ground to be far less sodden than it is today...surely. 

Blackensford Brook mindfulness

On our walk this morning we took the opportunity to chill awhile aside a quiet stretch of Blackensford Brook. I'd only intended a brief rest stop, some breathing, a quick chant, and a treat or two for Geoff; although the spot held us for longer. After the afore mentioned I adopted a malasana (squat) pose on the gravel close the babbling stream, closed my eyes and began to slow and deepen my breath; I found myself tuning into the sound of the water as it passed over nearby stones, then I became aware of the myriad sounds of water navigating myriad obstacles all around me, and one by one I focused on those sounds adding each unique sound to what was becoming a watery aural tapestry; eventually I found myself in a place of effortless and blissful mindfulness. Of course, after a few minutes, and all too quickly, my mind interrupted, and my meditation was over, still lovely whilst it lasted. I can't recall my awareness of a moment being so focused and complete. 

Sun reborn

Oh yeah! The new Sun is born, the new cycle begins and with it the slow march towards longer days. And what a corker of a sunrise it was; well worth enduring the blisteringly cold wind that raked Barton Cliffs. Elbow's lyric 'One day like this a year would see me right' rolled around my head as I took in the majestic beauty of this morning's sunrise; just stunning! Flags, flax, fodder and frigg to y'all for the coming cycle. /|\

Winter Solstice

Solstice Blessing y'all.

When the wheel turns and we come to one of the eightfold festivals I miss my friends in druid/pagan community. Solo rituals are well and good, and don't misunderstand me, I feel the connection and give/get what I need, though they don't compare with the warmth and feeling of connection you get standing in a circle with familiar faces, or unfamiliar faces for that matter, there's something special about a group ritual; there's nothing like it. 

Samhain extended

 

I remember garnering from the writings of Ross Nicholls that once Samhain, which we now celebrate on just one day, covered the period from October 31st through to the Winter Solstice on the 21st of December. This year as Samhain approached I'd been mulling that idea over, considering it's applications, and when I heard Phillip Carr-Gomm mention that Samhain had once been more of a season, I took it as a sign. I'd been riffing on the idea of extending the themes of Samhain, of endings and of letting things go, of cleaning out and preparing for the beginning of a new cycle; and as we approach the Winter Solstice that period is coming to a close. How did it go? Well, I think. There was the practical cleaning out; finding jars of dried mushrooms, nuts and herbs dated 2013/2014 at the back of a cupboard (I wont be eating them); then with the end of the growing year in the garden there was, pruning shrubs and trees, clearing beds to be done; and beyond that generally tidying my home was positive. Those were the simple bits. Harder the mental clearing; spending time considering and discarding the negative intellectual habits, reductive attitudes, beliefs and ideas I'd adopted over time, which I'm going to attribute mainly to the influence of the intellectually stifling/regressive and divisive echo chambers/silos of social media (it's a shame that social media never lived up to what it could've been).  Finally, I spend a great deal of time meditating on the mental baggage I needed to let go of for my emotional well-being; it's been a tumultuous and unsettling few years and the acquired baggage continues to drag me down like Marley's chains. The latter was the difficult one, especially with many of the contributing factors unresolved. Still, overall the exercise felt beneficial; it's certainly one I'll develop next year. 

Another misty morning

Out in the forest this morning it was the mistiest of mornings; the stands of Bratley enclosure were shrouded and near silent. I love the forest when it's like this, the landscape of fairy tales, a landscape in which you might spy mythagos. Magical. Out on the exposed plains the mists were even thicker, with visibility greatly reduced to the point where I found myself off course on a route I've undertaken many many times. The lyrics of Goldfrapp's Utopia came to mind 'It's a strange day, no colours or shapes, no sound in my head, I forget who I am'. Not wishing to overly big myself up, but unintentionally going off course is rare for me; intentionally going off course, well, that's another matter. Today's divergence was a good lesson, a reminder that I'm not infallible.

Thwarted by procrastination

Ah, once again thwarted by my mastery of procrastination, how damn predictable; I was quite happy with my design too. Three days to go and this years Winter Solstice card hasn't even made it the inking stage. When finished the moon and sun would have been behind the Awen, and the whole drawing rendered in either pen or pencil, or a combo of both. Still, on a positive note; I'm well ahead of schedule on my 2022 Winter Solstice card, so, huzzah!

Yule wreath

 This years front door Yule adornment.

Repairs

I spend 20 minutes or so on this morning's walk undertaking some remedial repairs to Burley Old's 'Hermitage'. I'd noticed over walks of late that it had become more of a sieve than a shelter and thought I'd do something about that. Recent winds ensured that there was plenty of canopy detritus of all sizes littering the woodland floor, plenty of leaf litter too. I was pleased with my efforts, by the time I'd finished many of the gaps and holes were filled, returning the shelter to darkness; one thing I noticed though during my maintenance was that in the near future more substantial structural work would be required if the hermitage was to endure. I have to say, even at my age, I really enjoyed 'playing' in the woods and was totally absorbed by the activity, the weights on my mind temporarily fading into the background. And you wouldn't believe it, but in that twenty minutes or so, in that small area, I walked just over a mile!    

 

Holly wranglers

A sight you'll see annually in the forest, and one that's probably as old as Yule celebrations themselves; folk collecting holly. The holly will be crafted in to wreaths which will be subsequently taken to markets and sold. The guys told me it was the last day of collection and that it had been a very good year; I suppose it depends on where you look, yeah, in some areas I've seen trees covered in bight red berries, whilst in others I've struggled to find more than a couple of berries...I walked all through Red Rise the other day and saw 4 berries, total. Some folklore suggests that an abundance of berries foretells of a harsh winter, a sign that the Goddess is ensuring food for the woodland/hedgerow birds; in which case, I don't know what to make of the patchy nature of berries this year...maybe a sign that our climate f*ckery has left mother nature uncertain of how to proceed.

Preserved in aspic

 

There are two faces to landscape conservation: the restoration of natural environments and the maintenance of historic environments. The re-channelling of sections of the forest streams to their pre Victorian courses are an example of the former; and I'd suggest the removal of conifers from the fringes of the Knowles is the latter. I've often said that to a great degree the New Forest is far from a natural environment, the creation of layers of human activity spanning millennia; left to it's own devices the forest would be a very different place. These pines have probably been removed as part of the ongoing 'Conifer removal on Ancient Woodland sites' plan. Without continuous management the growth of pine, birch and carr species would swallow the managed woodland mosaic hundreds of years in the making via human interventions; in reality the forest is a smorgasbord of historic landscapes/environments we desperately try to hold in aspic.

Reluctant to leave

Oaks; always late to the party, and always the last to leave.

 

After the storm

All through Great Huntley Bank and Camel Green signs of storm Barra were apparent; branches and boughs litter the woodland floor, the canopy is all but empty beyond the usual culprits and I lost count of the trees I saw slighted. I see the aspect of the forest changing in light of the increased winds and weird weather we've experience over recent years, and I can't help but wonder/worry what the forest will look like as climate change continues to bed in. I'm assuming there that the changes are man made or that nature fluctuations are being amplified and exaggerated by human behaviours; behaviours I genuinely don't see changing in the foreseeable future...no matter what the comforting green-washed narratives suggest. I feel these changes viscerally. Still, the forest was lovely today as was our walk; and as with so much in life, you've got to take solace where you can.

Studland sunrise

Bastard weather wizards! It'll be sunny they predicted, then, it'll be sunny with a scattering of clouds, and throughout they claimed less than 5% chance of rain. So after our recent visit to Studland I resolved to return this morning to catch the sunrise and take a walk; what with it going to be such a good day. I mumbled curses as just before dawn, having risen ridiculously early to get here, we wandered up the coast towards the wall of grey cloud which hugged the horizon, through cold raking winds and mizzle...bastard weather wizards! To be fair, it must be increasingly hard to accurately predict weather as our climate deteriorates, and, they did suggest cloud and rain, even if it was only 5%, and, if I was honest I protested too much as I didn't really care, just being here was good enough. That said, the morning predicted would've been preferable. Anyway. The beach was ours, not another soul in sight as we made our way along the shore. Then, as is often the way, nature rewards your endeavours and the sun rose through a break in the clouds, bathing the beach in the most wonderful light. As Geoff explored, I stood and marvelled at nature's glory, lost in the moment I was taken by a mild euphoria at the beauty of everything; my photos really don't do the light justice. Facing the sun I took three breathes and chanted the Awen; I love that fleeting heightened clarity you experience after chanting. The moment was perfect.  I declared that if this was the best the day could offer and the rest of the day returned to grey, I'd gratefully take that. The sun shone it's golden light for 10 minutes or so before again disappearing beyond the grey veil which by now was obscuring virtually any hint of blue; and it was indeed the best, sunniest, moment the day offered...and I continued to be grateful for it. We did 13.8 miles today too; Shell Bay, Studland Beach, inland at North Beach, across Godlingston Heath to Rempstone, up onto Nine Barrow Down, before descending again to retrace our route back to Shell Bay. On the way back I thought a guy approaching me along the beach was wearing a pink tracksuit or similar, until he got closer and I realised he was a cooked lobster coloured naturist; that's dedication to your path, man. Great day.

Regeneration

Nature's resilience is an unceasing wonder to me; take the view above, a few years back this area of Chewton Common was all scorched earth and charred trunks after 'another' common fire, yet look at it now, you'd never know; the regeneration is a marvel.

Studland

I'd been wanting to visit Studland for awhile; I knew it had been a while since we'd roamed these ways, though hadn't realised our last walk here was back in early March 2020. The long sweeping bay with it's broad sandy beach and Couch/Lyme/Marram grass colonized dunes were as beautiful and wind swept as I remembered them; as behind the dunes were the willow and phragmites fringed ponds and lakes of brackish water which pock the peninsular creating rare niche habitats. I've mentioned before, Purbeck, including Studland, appear miraculous in their apparent wild timelessness when their immediate vicinity to BCP, which must be the biggest urban sprawl and the south coast is considered.  A wonderful place. Studland that is, BCP not so much.