Nipple Hill

I passed Wingreen Hill on my return from Devon this afternoon. I'd been on a mercy mission for a chum (or in this case chump) who'd locked his keys in his van at Kozfest. Easily done, especially at a psychedelic rock festival. As I climbed up Zig Zag Hill, up onto downs Wingreen was silhouetted against the sky in the distance. The afternoon sky was azure blue and dappled with light wispy cloud, the ripening downs landscape was bathed in the rich colours afforded by the summer sun. Lovely! So prominent on the horizon, and so clearly visible for miles around, Wingreen has always been a feature to orientate yourself by. Even if a landscape feature already has an established name, still we tend to assign them our own, so it is with Wingreen, known to our family as 'Nipple Hill'. Seeing landscape, as I do, as a physical manifestation of the Goddess, it's curves, it's hills and valleys, 'Nipple Hill' seemed an appropriate name. 

Hoverfly

I initially jumped at the sight of this (Volucella zonaria) Hoverfly, thinking it was something more stingy. (Volucella zonaria) is one of the largest Hoverflies in the UK. This beastie, along with a plethora of over flapping, buzzing, hovering insects was feasting on our buddleia davidii, the garden is alive in the sun.

I hate fairyland! by Skottie Young Vol1: Madly ever after

I enjoy a good graphic novel, and 'Madly ever after', Volume 1 of Skottie Youngs, 'I hate fairyland', is a really good graphic novel, a visual feast of colour and form, wittily written and drawn by Skottie Young. I was drawn in by the brightly coloured cover depicting the psychotic main character Gertrude, a mix of old school comic styles with a touch of the grotesque. Skottie's take on the traditional 'fairyland' story is funny and refreshing, a simple comic story of a girl whose wish to go to fairyland comes true, although having been trapped there now for 27 years, unable to find the key to her return, she's gone a touch mental and has become the feared scourge of that magical land. Something has to be done, and Queen Cloudia of Fairyland has a plan. As I say, a rich brightly coloured visual feast, a brilliant read which I highly recommend. I can't wait for Volume 2!

Honeysuckle

As I walk each season, each has something new and unique to offer, something of its own and something that, for me, punctuates and symbolizes that period of the year. Now is the time of the Honeysuckle (Lonicera periclymenum), also known as 'Woodbine'. During the day you can pass its delicate flowers, hidden amongst the developing verdance, without noticing them, but come evening time and their heavenly scent is unmistakable.  Rich and sweet, to stop and smell a flower or two is a feast for your nose, and sends the mind soaring. For flowers so understated, they really pack a fragrant punch. 

Chase Avenue

Chase Avenue.

Cleft Oak

A cleft Oak we came across on our way across Rotherley Down, it was quite hollow, though still very sturdy, and inside it several juvenile Beef Steak fungi (Fistulina hepatica) were growing. Nice tree.

Out in the Chase

The Chase is beautiful, her exposed hills and secluded wooded valleys, a secret landscape for the intrepid walker to explore. I love this land. When people ask 'do you love your country?' I answer 'of course!', though I'm being disingenuous. I know what they mean, and it's not what I'm answering 'of course' to. They mean the jingoistic ideas of patriotism, which mean little to me beyond a currently prevalent and uncomfortable narrative espoused by many. When I say I love my country, I mean I love the country, the land. I understand it, I know what I'm looking at, I know where to look for things, I feel part of it. When I have explained myself to those asking me 'do you love your country?' they look confused as if I'm speaking in tongues. Weird. 

I digress though, where was I, ah yes, the Chase. Her paths wind through a landscape steeped in history, rich in myth and legend. Our earliest ancestors favoured this landscape, remains of their activities dot the land, some easily spotted, whilst others stay hidden in the long grass and sturdy clumps of shrub. For years archaeologists who explored the prehistoric monuments of the Chase ignored the sensory experiences of ancient people, how they would have related to the landscapes they walked, and how that would have influenced the siting of their monuments. It's an area of archaeology I find fascinating which was first popularized by Christopher Tilley's A Phenomenology of Landscape published in 1994. I like to think they'd have possibly experienced the land in some ways similarly to how I do, although they'd have felt it much more immediately and far deeper that I could, our modern world being so removed from our nature. 

Through the stands of the expansive Chase wood we walked through summers glory, insects buzzed from flower to flower (and there were plenty of flowers), the canopy was alive with birds, things rustled in the undergrowth and occasionally we caught a glimpse of deer deeper in the shade. The fecundity of the land is so apparent, her bounties manifest. It was cooler in the dappled light of the stands, not so when we emerged into the open, where the sun beat down with that weird unnatural intensity common these days.  Outside the woodland in the bright light we could see birds of prey gliding above the canopy, circling for prey, occasionally giving an eerie screech. Majestic birds. We made our way down the hillside, through steep sided valleys and along hard reflective chalk paths, until we reached Tollard Royal, a small hamlet nestled in a valley, with a fine pub, The King John. After a brief stop for apple based refreshment and a spot of boot repair, we returned to our walk and began the climb back up onto the downs. Through ripening fields and past strangely contorted trees, the long tough downland grasses grabbing at our boots, we made our way. It was hard going, especially after the pub, but the views, man, the views were something else. Finally we reached the top of the downs and photo above is what we looked out upon and what we'd walked through. Magnificent. Our return was back through Chase Wood, this time along Chase Avenue, a double avenue of mature beech. Hot and tiring, moving slower now, the shade was welcomed, as was the sight of journeys end. 14 miles of outstanding beauty, you can't beat it. That's the country I love.

Full Moon

Full Moon, I saw you standing alone. The full moon rises in a rainbow hued sky over Mudeford spit. Nice. I never forget how blessed I am to live in an area of such outstanding natural beauty. Full Moon blessing y'all.

Avon causeway

This evenings light gave the River Avon at the causeway a beautiful golden hue. I stopped and stared, transfixed by the sumptuous scene before me, it really was beautiful. We used to swim in this section of the river, the corners were deep, though for the most part the river in shallow here, only waist high. Then people got grumpy with us swimming there, so that was that. What's wrong with folk? We moan and whinge about the unimportant, whilst simultaneously ignoring the glaringly important. I think it comes from feeling powerless to effect the big stuff and a need to feel empowered. Still, lovely evening for a cycle.

Sweet light

Sweet light through the stands at the moment.  Its been nice taking evening walks through the forest, the late light is warm and soft, casting long shadows along the woodland fringes. Beautiful. The interior, mind, where the light fails to penetrate is far cooler and darker. It's quieter too. The quiet coupled with the shoulder high bracken lends itself to an air of mystery, where the occasional rustle or distant screech conjures mental images of childhood fairy tales, or 70's Hammer movies. Best not dwell on imagined horrors though, make your way back out to the fringes and those last warming rays of the day. Ah, that's better. Nice.

Fire sky

There was an intenseness to tonights sunset as seen from Spy Holms, as if a huge fire raged on the horizon. It was brief though, the colours developed quickly, blazed brightly and faded just as quickly. Nature is generous with her sunsets, as she is with other aspects of her bounty, but you need to be observant or you'll miss too often miss them. 

Wood ants

A colony of Wood Ants (Formica ......, I'm not sure which specific type of Wood Ant) appear to have collected the flowing buds of nearby spruce trees and surrounded their nest with them. The purpose of this I'm not sure, if there is one, maybe it's just that the buds were a handy building material and have graded themselves through weathering, whatever, it does make for visually interesting image, particularly in its moss green setting. 

Survivors

It appears my earlier belief that all of the apple blossom had suffered from 'fire blight' or 'Apple blossom weevils' and wouldn't be fruiting, was a a little previous. Only a little, mind. I counted at least a dozen young apples, not enough for my planned cider making, although enough for snack or two whilst out walking the hound.  It may not be many, still, it's nice to see some survivors, I don't like to think of fruit trees failing completely.

Tranquillity

Some evenings everything is just right in the forest, so it was for tonights walk. The sun still shone as we strolled through Brinken Wood, its rays just warming, though starting to fade as it sank towards the horizon, casting long shadows through the stands of ancient Beech. Ponies gathered out in the shade, as did the deer, neither noticed us passing by, or showed they had, both grazing with contentment. It's July but still the ground is soft under foot and areas of standing water persist, particularly through the younger section of Brinken Wood, where the woodland floor is carpeted by thick lush grass.  A large bird alights from one of the older trees and glides towards a denser part of the wood as we approach, it's a bird of prey though I can't make out which type. It's so quiet out here, checking your foot falls you too can move through the stands silently, so not to interrupt the tranquillity.  We cross Highland Water, still flowing well, although now a dark colour like ruby ale, the consequence of the heathland peats. We're now in Great Huntley Bank and a world of ancient Oak and Beech. It's still soft under foot and grassy, though as we move onto slightly higher ground it dries and the grasses are replaced by thick swathes of shoulder high ferns. It's easy to become disorientated, and has an added sense of wild about it. A couple of times in quick succession a solitary deer darts out of the ferns, glances and then swiftly disappears again.  The sun is lower still now, and the layer of tranquillity has thickened and now covers the woodland like the eiderdowns I remember as a kid.  We stand still. It's only when you stop like this and really listen that you hear the song of the forest, particularly at this time of day.  Yes, it's tranquil, but the song never stops and as we listen, our ears tuning in, we hear twilights verse in the forests song. Birds sing their good-nights, the nocturnals waking at the start of their day and distant ponies calling and then the sound of hooves as the dispersed come together for the night.   

Walking is peaceful, the quiet washes over you and through the jumbled thoughts and distractions of the day. Life can be filled with negativity, and it's hard sometimes not to be consumed by by it, or at the least distracted by it. The forest is a counsellor who walks with you and listens as you churn over your problems and worries. And even if those problems and worries persist, which they often do, your walk amongst the stands is respite enough for you to return to them a little bit clearer and with renewed strength. 

Feild Maple

The winged seed pods of the Field Maple (Acer campestre), our only native maple, add a vibrant shot of red to countrysides current verdance.

A rip in the fabric of time.

There was a mysterious rip in the fabric of time which appeared over Cranborne Chase today, the rip allowed a conduit to the Second World War to form, and saw the giant shape of a B17 Flying Fortress soaring over the Wiltshire skies. I wonder if the crew knew they were flying in the future they and theirs served for?  The rip was short lived and soon the B17 returned to its own time and skies over the Chase were quiet again. I made it up, you say! Well, I can't think of any other explanation.

Red sky at night

The red / grey cloud combo is always a favourite of mine. Red sky at night shepherds delight, they say. Well, here's to hoping. Beyond the negative effects on wildlife and vegetation, particularly down at the allotment, I miss the seasons. Sure, I take days as they come, make the most of the good weather when we have it. But it's not right and you know it, this should be summer and the weather should be predictably fair to good, not this grey dank humid shite we're experiencing. We have a clear understanding of how unseasonal weather effects nature adversely, though appear to have a blind spot as to how it effects us (to a point disingenuous I know, we understand about Vitamin D deficiency, but I believe there's more to it), maybe that's because we're British and love to obsess about the weather, but also being British frequently miss the bigger picture. News flash, we are nature too.  Still, tomorrows another day.

Magic Bus @ The King Arthur, Glastonbury

Arthur Conley asked if we liked good music? Well, derrr! Of course Arthur, man! And if it's good music you're looking for then Magic Bus will be right up your street. This is my description Magic Bus from earlier in the year (back in February), I've included it here as when I started describing the band it soon became clear I was repeating myself.

''Well, Magic Bus are a 6 piece psychedelic, proggy, folky, jazz type combo. The band are Jay Darlington whose superb organ (amongst other key based instruments) drives many of the pieces.  Above this soars the magical fluting of Viv Goodwin-Darkes' which dances with the organ like a mischievous sprite (Viv also plays a whole load of other instruments). Paul Evans on guitar, conveys finely crafted songs with great vocals. Terence Waldstadt delivers some masterful lead guitar. Rhythm is supplied by Benny Brooks on bass and Connors' (last name unknown) frenetic drumming. Each band member putting in a highly polished performance on their individual instruments, which when combined together created a incredibly tight performance, a rich and mellow tripped out musical sound-scape with a fantastically uplifting and danceable groove.No doubt influenced and inspired by the sounds of late 60's early 70's from both sides of the Atlantic, Magic Bus are keeping that vibe alive and running with it. Every now and again there’s a nod to the likes of Caravan or  Gong or the echo of west coast harmonies. Don't get me wrong, the Magic Bus are no period tribute band, no sir, Magic Bus are doing their thing very much in the here and now.  You just can't hear organ and flute combined over guitar without being reminded of the early 70's 'Canterbury sound', and that's no bad thing.  I suppose it could be suggested that Magic Bus drink from the same inspirational spring as the afore mentioned, though they've freshened the sound, modernized it, given it a contemporary feel and play it with gusto.''

When we saw them back in February they were bloody marvellous, and tonights gig even surpassed that performance. Along with some favourites off their last two albums ('Magic Bus' and 'Transmission from Sogmore’s Garden' http://magicbusband.co.uk/), some delivered differently, they dropped in some new tracks from their up coming new album (possibly coming out with a vinyl option), which if the quality of the tracks played are anything to go by is going to be another audio treat. The sound at The Arthur, as usually, was very good, which served to emphasise Magic Bus's really clean tight sound. As I've said each member of the band is polished in their art and delivered a masterful performance, which quickly had folk up on their feet. And there were some fantastic dancing stars this evening, no, really, it all adds to the atmosphere of pure joy.  Great projections too. The performance was split into two glorious sets, giving everybody a chance to fill their glasses, and which gave us the opportunity to chat to Connor (the drummer) what a lovely chap, happy to chat with us too and was so full of beans I thought he might actually explode. In fact all the band are lovely and chatty; one of the joys of a small venue like the Arthur is that you're all together, band and audience, creating an inclusive atmosphere often lacking from larger venues. Sadly, all too soon, the performance was over and the bus stopped, and we alighted, although we'd all thoroughly enjoyed our journey, the band looked like they had too, which is always nice. It was another wonderful up lifting gig, which left you feeling much better than you'd been feeling before. I can't recommend a trip on the Magic Bus highly enough...pure uplifting joy.

As for The King Arthur http://thekingarthur.co.uk/wp/, well, you know what I'm going to say...what a magical magical place and superb venue with great sound, a really lovely friendly pub, staffed by great people and filled with friendly welcoming locals. As always 11 out of 10!

I didn't vote in the referendum.

So it's over, it's done, the nation has spoken and we're out. I didn't vote, mind. That's right, I didn't vote in the EU referendum. Yes, I talk and comment on politics regularly (too much some would say), and I'm sure my reluctance to vote came as a surprise to some of my friends, it was a surprise to my family.  But what did I have to vote for? What was my choice? 

Vote out? Align myself with the far right, closet racists and the misinformed nationalists. Those who seek to remove our rights, relegate us to mere work drones living to work and working in poverty. No, I couldn't do that. Of course, that's not the whole picture at all. A huge number of Brexiteers were disenfranchised working class poor, abused and ignored by the establishment and marginalized to an existence in poverty.  I feel their pain and understand their anger, although not their view that immigrants have caused all their woes, they clearly haven't, it's the establishment who have. The same establishment, elements of whom, have pointed them towards the immigrants, and ironically the poor and sick, as their enemy. And, elements of whom have been actively directing the out campaign.  Voting out will not make the life of the poor and disenfranchised any better. On the contrary, out will mean more suffering, more pain, more disenfranchisement, more austerity and more hate and division. That will soon become apparent.

Or.

Vote in? Align myself with the far right, closet racists and the misinformed nationalists. Those who seek to remove our rights, relegate us to mere work drones living to work and working in poverty. Hang on! That all sounds a bit familiar.  I used to be a fan of the EU and understood the benefits it brought. One world, one people, and all that.  Although that was then. In recent years the EU has changed, embarking on a program of watering down employment rights and environmental protection to make us more competitive, embracing TTIP and as for what they did to Greece, well.  Many EU countries are moving to the right, some the far right. The EU continues to expand east, and with it NATO, purposely antagonizing Russia, in clear dereliction of the agreements and promises made at the time of Glasnost. Not to sound like an 'outer' the EU is becoming a monster, a powerful capitalist monster, at that.

Some not really much choice there. As a good friend of mine puts it, 'the opportunity to choose the least odious of two odious turds', again! I just can't participate in these charades, these illusions of choice, any more!

For 6 years those on benefits, those living in social housing, the sick, the disabled have been marginalized and scapegoated, blamed for the country's problems, pilloried and attacked by our government and the press. It was all us and the immigrants what done it. As I remember it, the EU didn't come to our  aid, the EU didn't step in to support us or hold the governments to account for said attacks. When you've been vilified by the government, the media and a population too wilfully ignorant and easily fooled to understand that it surely can't be the poorest in society that have taken all the money and brought the country to its knees, what stake do you have in society? Note, I'd say. No matter which side had won the referendum the attacks on the weak and vulnerable were guaranteed to continue; does it really matter who's kicking you, or how hard the kicks are? Not really, you just want it to stop. I wouldn't have voted out, but I couldn't vote in either, I had no reason or right to vote, I hold no stake in society, 6 years have made that clear.

Breather

A butterfly stops briefly for a breather on a Common Spotted Orchid before alighting once again to rejoin the aerial foray. 

Hedge pig

It's not common to see Mrs Tilly-Winkle out in the day, in fact it's not common to see Mrs Tilly-Winkle or her kin, full stop. They used to be a frequent sight when I was younger, scuttling about in the bushes under the moon. Then there was a not so cool period when you frequently saw their remains on the road side. No though, you see neither (clearly not seeing the latter is a good thing) with much frequency. So, I was surprised, and delighted, to see this one noisily rummaging through the thickets of the common.  They've funny little faces and their black pearl eyes clearly mark them out as nocturnal, hence my surprise at seeing one out in the day, I was also surprised at how nonchalantly it continued about its to my presence. At first I thought, being out in the day, that it might have been injured or sick, although it moved at speed when it did move and looked a good size and healthy. Maybe environmental changes are necessitating adaptations or maybe it was that I was walking off the path, whatever, it was nice to see. 

Solstice sunrise

I'd risen long before dawn, in order to drive through the night the 60 or so miles to Pilsdon on the Dorset Devon border to catch the solstice sunrise. It was an eventful drive, 2 deer, a fox and a badger all caused me to take evasive action, still, makes a difference from having to take evasive action on account of numerous nut-bars in cars. I'd not visited Pilsdon for over 20 years and was looking forward to the visit, even if I wasn't certain there'd be much of a sunrise to see.  Pilsdon is the one of the highest, if not the highest, hill in Dorset and site of an Iron Age hillfort. That said, a road winds past the fort quite near to the summit and on arrival it didn't take long to reach the ramparts of the hillfort. What a view, man!  And to boot, the sun did indeed rise and it was stunning. Well worth the trip.

Below, the brief description I posted on friend-face.

Looking north-east this morning from the lofty heights of Pilsdon Pen hillfort, across the beautifully undulous west Dorset landscape, as the summer Solstice Sun edged deftly above the distant horizon accompanied by the sweet song of the dawn chorus.

Happy Solstice y'all

Brian Jonetown Massacre

We ventured out to the Engine Rooms in Southampton this evening to see the Brian Jonestown Massacre.  I've listen to their music for years after a friend suggested them to me, although had never seen them perform live. Nor, as it happens, had I been to the Engine Rooms, so an evening of all new experiences.

Firstly the Engine Rooms. Located in an industrial estate, it looked just that, an industrial unit as we languished outside in the rain, whilst the security staff slowly admitted only very small groups of punters in at a time. Once inside, the Engine Rooms on the inside was what you'd expect from the outside....an industrial unit. That said, the space was well used and laid out.

There was no support this evening as a member of the support band had fallen and broken her leg, bummer. On the bright side, the Brian Jonestown Massacre were rumoured to be playing a longer set, which the crowd were obviously very much looking forward to. I understood the bands live performances can be chequered, patchy and disruptive, even violent at times with audience members trying to wind the band up (sad wankers, why would you do that?), although they'd levelled out in recent years. I hoping for something good. The band began to fill the stage and they were off. Every member of the band are proficient musicians with years of experience, and it showed. It's clear why the Brian Jonestown Massacre are such an influential band, a group of consummate musicians, man, were they tight! From the get go it was top shelf stuff, song after song nailed. It sounds like a cliché, but every track was a killer, and there was most definitely no filler. And what an astounding back catalogue, and they used that astounding back catalogue to great effect delivering a really fantastic set and a long set too, they played for a good two and a half hours. The Brian Jonestown Massacre gave us an outstanding performance tonight, they all oozed charisma too, particularly Joel the tambourine man, who has a real stage presence.  The whole gig, long as it was, obviously went too fast for the crowds liking, and when the band had left the stage, even the prolonged calls for 'more' from the crowd couldn't bring them back on.  

What a great night, not even the 2 mile walk home in the rain from the train station could dampen my spirit.  A top night all round, and lovely see people I'd not seen in years and years.

Hanging in there.

I see things like this so frequently out in the woods that you'd think I'd become blasé about it. But I don't. Every time I come across a tree like this, it amazes me. Near hollow, severely damaged and with its trunk decaying, this Ash tree continues (with a little help from its friends) to hang on in there. Stretching upwards towards the canopy and life sustaining light, the remaining upright bough uses the generous support of surrounding trees to achieve its goal, and the boughs end is thriving. How amazing is nature.

Broomrape

Broomrape (Orobanche). I'm not certain which of the Orobanche family this is, although I think it's Knapweed Broomrape (Orobanche elatior). Broomrapes are parasitic plants, and having no chlorophyll, and so no green leaves or the ability to photosynthesise, it takes all its nutrition from its host plant. Listed as 'widespread though not common' it is not too common a sight in the places I walk, although here on Martin Down is one place I usually see it. An interesting plant on several levels. It's always a pleasure to spot the unusual.

Burnt Tip Orchids

Burnt Tip Orchids (Neotinea ustulata) on Martin Down. A really beautiful and rare (ish) sight, I counted 14 this year.

Mutant Foxglove

A mutant Foxglove (Digitalis pupurea) with a terminal peloric flower (Digitalis purpurea monstrosa).

Moon Duo @ the Joiners

I've been blessed with some fine gigs of late, and tonight’s treat were Moon Duo. A friend, who knows his musical onions, had gifted me ticket, telling me it would be a rare opportunity to see Moon Duo in these parts. Moon Duo are Ripley Johnson of Wooden Shijps on vocals and guitar, Sanae Yamada on keyboards and John Jeffrey on drums, and, man, do they create a groovy sound, or what!  How'd I describe their sound? Well, I'd say (and this is just my opinion), they create a stream of pulsing psychedelic, electro tinged, drone rock, with trancey veins. Or something like that.

It would be an understatement to say Ripley Johnson is a not too shabby a guitarist (nor singer), he's bloody good. Ripley laid down some really splendid riffs interspersed with plenty of top shelf noodling. All delivered in a cool laid-back and understated style. Whilst Sanae Yamada brought some really nice electronic synthy sound-scapes to the party. Sanae looked like she was feeling the music she was producing and that it was flowing through her.  Keys must be intense, as keyboard players always tend to look so serious and Sanae was no exception, although She beamed smiles in-between tracks. Now, John Jeffrey, the drummer, fuck, man! That was some really far out drumming, the guy's a machine, drumming out a well paced beat like a mentalist, whilst shaking a tambourine or a morracker and looking un-phased by any of it. I reckon he's really an android sent from the future to fuck with our minds. It's the only explanation. Fantastic tracks of plenty, each a total joy, the crowd were loving it and I think the band were enjoying it too; which is always nice. All together they created a really nice sound vibe, I absolutely loved it, and I for one could have listened to much more of it. Though sadly, as is the nature of gigs, it was over far too soon. 

After the show the band mingled and I got a opportunity to thank them. Well, I spouted some gibberish at John Jeffrey (whilst thanking him) about keeping his android identity a secret, he looked suitably confused. And, I did get to briefly thank Sanae Yamada and Ripley Johnson for what was a memorable evening, both of whom came across as genuinely lovely people. They said they'd pass this way again, I do hope they do.

Trance!

Due to the transportive powers of trance I found myself actually dancing in the food fortress today.  Now, I do enjoy dance music, although find trance is not something I can listen to unless I'm active: cycling, cleaning, gardening or shopping or such. I was listening to Neelix's 2012 Sorry Hannes mix whilst waiting at the bread counter, I was enjoying it so much and was so absorbed that it wasn't until the bass dropped and I had to stifle the urge to throw some shapes, that I realized I was full on trance shuffling. I had a bit of a 'Tyres' moment as I became aware of what I was doing and proceeded to shuffle, grinning, off down the isles. Well, you've got to make your chores fun.

Badbury sundown

A Ribwort Plantain (Plantago lanceolata) flowering on the uppermost hillfort rampart is silhouetted in front of the sinking Sun. It doesn't matter at which scale you look at nature, from the immense to the microscopic, it's saturated with beauty. 

Slow worm

Slow worm? I wonder how they got that name, as when they see you that can't half move. This time of year your senses are alert to signs of slithering, what with it being Adder season. This little fellow was an unusual find for me. I frequently come across Slow Worms, though usually they have bits missing, this little had a complete tail.

A carpet of orchids

As we spiralled upwards around the three ramparts on our evening walk around the ramparts of Badbury Rings, we walked between swathes of orchids which carpeted the steep banks. Common Spotted Orchids (Dactylorhiza fuchsii) are represented in huge numbers and many varied forms, each seemingly unique. Whilst this year the Greater Butterfly Orchids (Platanthera chlorantha) are far more abundant that they were last year. Lovely, nature in her finest attire. As we wandered, our course set by the rings themselves, we were afforded a carousel of panoramic views, before descending through a chest high meadow towards the car. What a fine walk, I congratulate myself on my decision to come this way. I think Badbury's going to be a walk of choice for a while.

The shape of things to come?

My mind engages in flights of fantasy whilst out walking, as I walked through the stands I looked out into a weird area of dead woodland, and I wondered if I could be looking from the forest of today into the forest of the future. A scary thought.

Quacky races

Quacky races

Appleless

Sadly nearly all the Apple trees over the common have failed to fruit this year. I think it's either 'fire blight' or 'Apple blossom weevils', although, I'm no expert, I just know it means no apples this year. Bummer, I had plans for them.

Hidden past

Hidden amongst the trees on the hillside overlooking the former Ibsley Airfield is an interesting second world war archaeological feature, a Battlefield Head Quarters. Battlefield Head Quarters were a common feature of wartime airfields, they would've been used as a command position if the airfield were attacked and required recapturing. This particular example is surrounded by trench works and circular concrete machine gun positions. Although common on wartime airfields, Battlefield Head Quarters are rare features compared to other monuments of the period, many have been destroyed since the war. When constructed the site would've had a commanding view over the airfield and its environs, through the subsequent years trees have grown up to obscure the views and have created a secluded aspect to the site. In its form and situation in woodland, it reminds me somewhat of the Second World War defences constructed by the Germans. The underground communication rooms and observation cupolas are accessible, though a torch is required. Sadly it's a bit neglected and has been misused by youth. I say misused by youth, don't misunderstand me, I'm all for the continuing use of sites, it keeps them alive, raves, parties, camping, are all cool, although respect needs to be shown and appreciation for the sites age and fragility need to be considered. And, clean the fuck up! I know, I'm expecting too much from the youth. A quick look back at my own youth brings that into sharp focus.

Cow Parsley

The green lanes which bisect the Chase are currently bordered by thick swathes of Cow Parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris).  A beautiful sight. On the whole I'm cautious when it comes to umbellifers, so many and so easily confused, many of which are poisonous, the most notable and most dangerous example being Hemlock (Conium maculatum), the poison given to Socrates. I do love the flowers of Cow Parsley though.

Greater Stitchwort

Greater Stitchwort (Stellaria holostea)

In a green Cathedral

We'd been walking along the narrow woodland tracks which snake through Verditch, all overhung by overgrown Hazel coppice and slowly disappearing under summers verdance for some time, when all of a sudden we emerged into an entirely different space.  A huge space. As I stood, temporarily overwhelmed by the majesty of the place, the first thing which popped into my mind was, why people ever built temples. It seems so counter-intuitive to me stood here. Most faiths believe in some form of omni-potent creator, take Christianity (it could be many others).  Christians believe their God made the world and everything on it, so why would they remove themselves from his creation when they choose to pray? Why did they build temples, when all about them is sacred. Looking around the space I was in, this was a natural cathedral. What better place to commune with your creator(s) or however you may see it.  For me, I see natural divinity all about me when I'm out, in every flower or tree, the birds, the animals, the hills and streams, in the very land itself. Whether out in the woods, or over the hills or coast, I feel, no, I know, I'm in scared space. Every walk I take is an observance, filled with little rituals, transactions and greetings. Every walk is an opportunity to immerse myself in creation, to heal, to drink again from the overflowing cup of natures inspiration, and to return to the madness of our existence, renewed. Nothing I, or anyone, could build, no matter how cool or groovy it may be, could ever eclipse the manifest beauty of natures myriad aspects, nor the feelings derived from immersion in them. 

Woodland canopy

The wondrous woodland canopy.