Friday 31 December 2010

New year

A new year dawns, though it means little to the land, the flora and fauna ride on different cycles; their year is dictated by the seasons; decades and centuries are their markers. The forest appears timeless, or at least out of time, the forest is eternal; it may change its shape, its species matrix, its form, but the forest has always been.

Thursday 30 December 2010

3 Rivers meet

At Bolderford Bridge, near Brockenhurst, the 3 streams that make up the headwaters of the Lymington River are united; first Fletchers Water merges with Highland Water, shortly after Ober Water joins for the final stretch to the sea. They represent the longest streams in the forest. All 3 streams originated in the high central plateau of the forest, the head waters of Bratley and Highland Waters are less than a kilometer apart on Ocknell Plain and Mill Lawn Brook near Pickets Post.

Wednesday 29 December 2010

Fletcher Water

The only remaining straight section of Fletchers Water, about a kilometre long, between Fletchers Thorns and Highland Water, looks marked for 'restoration', spray can pink dots and pollarding instructions adorn those chosen to fall. The rest of the stream, all the way from its beginnings as Bratley Water, through Blackensford Brook to Black Water and sections of Fletchers Water have been remodelled, their surrounding stands restored to bog woodland. It's always been a bit of a weird walk, unnatural feeling and unlike other sections its restoration wont be lamented.

Fletchers Winter

Damp mists fill the stands of Fletchers Thorns (1829), sweeping amongst the trunks, through the naked canopy and along the course of the recently remodelled Fletchers Waters; Fletchers Water, now shallower, with restored meanders, flows vigorously towards its destiny, swelled by melt water and recent rain. As intended, the remodelling of the stream has encouraged water to flow beyond the banks, spilling into the surrounding woodland, filling any shallow gully or hollow and creating a new alien landscape. Changes necessitate frequent and awkward diversions from my chosen path along the bank in order to negotiate the newly created watery obstacles. Above a pure white Egret glides through the canopy, using the stream to navigate deep into the forest hinterland; their presence a testament to the improving water quality of the forest streams and the increased fish stock there in.

The light is fading, it's easy to forget how quickly the darkness draws in. If you allow your mind to wander, which is easy, the mists, the silence, coupled with the unexpected obstacle set in a once familiar place, now so foreign, lend themselves to the creation of a eerie atmosphere.

Monday 27 December 2010

Choo Choo

Snow still lingers in the fields and on hillsides of the Purbecks, ice still crusts puddles and a chill wind swirls through the land. From the heights of Nine Barrow Down a speeding steam train can be seen racing along the restored line towards Harmons Cross, between Corfe and Swanage; a sight of yester year.

Line in the sand

Poole Harbour is cold and forbidding, its icy waters lapping upon a frozen shore whose sandy matrix has surrendered to frost and now displayed the characteristics of set cement. Icy fingers augment this shoreline, the paths of water draining from the wet heathland, now resembling thick weathered bottle glass melted then re solidified. Around us a cold wind blows through the shore side shrubs and grasses, off across the mill pool still waters of the harbour, whilst residual snow can be seen on the distant Purbeck Hills.

The remains of a defencive line of formidable square concrete anti tank blocks extend into the harbour, now gradually undermined by nature, several have succumbed and now lay at jaunty angles. The rest of the line, which once extended across the headland to an impassable wetland, was blown in the late 1940's, other than this section of 18 and 3 at the edge of the wetland all that remains are clusters of regularly spaced concrete fragments.

Sunday 26 December 2010

Birkin Chill

Still -2 in the afternoon and although the snow stopped falling several days ago now, its remains endure in the sheltered parts of the forest, while where water stands or covers any open land it has frozen solid; winter retains a firm grasp on the land.

Wednesday 22 December 2010

Solstice greetings

Winter Solstice, the shortest day, the longest night. Snow blankets the ground; Jack frost plies his mischief over hill and vale. Boughs are bare amongst the skeletal stands and little stirs. Seeds lay waiting for their moment, while the land sleeps and darkness rules. Dawn sees the wheel turn on its tireless transit, the new sun is born from the horns of the moon. Our march to spring has begun; light will increase whilst darkness retreats. Solstice greetings and hopes that your journey is filled with all you'd need.

Winter Solstice card 2010

Sunday 19 December 2010

Saturday 18 December 2010

Wednesday 8 December 2010

Tuesday 7 December 2010

Magical land

The direction of the incoming freeze is clearly visible on the trees and shrubs of Wilverly Plain and Enclosure (1809); their eastern faces dusted with a crispy white icing sugar like glaze, whilst the western sides retain their natural hues. With crystal clad heather, lustrous bracken fronds and solid patterned puddles, the plain has taken on the aspect of a wild and magical land. Walking across Holm Hill is a mix of crunches, as you break the thin ice which covers even the most ephemeral of water and slides, as you slip on the greased glass like ground surfaces where the saturated earth has frozen solid.

Descending into the Ober valley the forest reverts to the traditional hues of winter, where browns rule, although most standing water remains frozen, even if the ground below and around yields. The Ober looks cold and uninviting as it snakes its way along Clumber Enclosure (1843), racing to join Highland Water.

As if passing between separate world, as you ascend Markway Hill towards Spy Holms the scene returns to the winter wonderland of white clad flora and crisp ice. The sun is going down and the sky comes alive with a final burst of cloud and colour. Nice.

Monday 6 December 2010

Sunday 5 December 2010

Saturday 4 December 2010

What a difference a day makes

What a difference a day makes. The over night rain has all but decimated the the snow, which only yesterday blanketed the land so successfully. Now the ground's becoming increasingly saturated as the melted snow again rejoins the watery cycle. The snow may have all but disappeared, but ice is still common place where ever water stands and in some places remains 30mm thick. Rising from Red Rise Brook a mist or light fog floods the out over the land, hanging over the open places and lurking amongst the skeletal stands. Whilst Ponies graze, other forms are visible shuffling about the woods; Pigs still roam the forest. Usually by this time the pigs have returned to their regular stomping grounds, although this year pannage has been extended for a few weeks due to the dangers posed to the ponies by this years bumper crop of acorns; sadly there's been an increase in pony deaths due to acorn consumption. A small family of British Saddle backs are doing their bit for pony preservation, searching through the fresh leaf litter of Red Rise Hill woods and along the banks of the brook.

Red Rise

Thursday 2 December 2010

Snow falls

Powdery white snow fell through the night blanketing our region with up to a depth of 15cm or more of the white stuff, bringing everything to a stand still and bringing joy to everyone who took the opportunity to enjoy the many pleasures afforded by snow. Snows power to transform the usually mundane or complement our already beautiful woodland never fails to stir the soul and raise ones spirits.

Snowscape


Wednesday 1 December 2010

Tuesday 30 November 2010

Pony power

Snow fell in the woods today, not soft and fluffy, more like tiny hard hail stones, cascading through the almost bare canopy, the sound is reminiscent of a hundred rain sticks. There's a sharp wind too. The forest continues its silent vigil, bracing itself for the winter to come; all the tradition natural portents suggesting it will be a harsh one.

With laudable dignity and resolve, Ponies, who through all the adverse weather thrown at them, continue to stalwartly hold their ground. Tirelessly they grazing on anything they can find; grasses, spiky gorse and even Holly bark become tasty treats to see them through the lean times.

Monday 29 November 2010

Winters march

Winter marches on through the forest with determination, Cadmans pool is already capped by a crust of thick translucent ice, while the ground is now hard under, rough and uneven to walk on, although in the more sheltered tracts the frost has formed a crusty glaze, giving the illusion of solidity, whilst really merely disguising gloopy mud below. Latchmore Brook flows with an icy chill, its many obstructions and dams preparing to endure the surge which is surely to come. Now though, the jumbles of fallen trees and boughs, hanging just above the water, have become platforms for frigid sculptures; frozen water fingers dangle, reaching out to rejoin the flow. Island Thorns (1852) and Amberwood (1817) Enclosures are quiet other that the occasional fleeting movement viewed from the corners of your eye and foresters chopping and gathering fire logs.

Sunday 28 November 2010

Ice bubbles


Break in

Today chilled you to the bone, the ground is beginning to harden as ice penetrates deeply and any exposed water is sealed with a thickening layer of ice up to 15mm so far. Thankfully there is no wind or it may have become intolerable. The stands of Rhinefields Sandys Enclosure (1775) are almost silent in the still that blankets the forest, other than the occasional subdued tweet or distant rustle nothing moves and no sounds are made. About 10 years ago well over half of Rhinefields Sandys was fenced off with Deer fencing, its gates locked and access denied. We used to walk there frequently; today fallen tree offered the opportunity to walk there again. The enclosed area, other than maintenance of the trackways, has been left to develop unhindered by grazing Cattle, Ponies and Deer; a crowded understory of self seeded saplings and shrub species has developed and the ground is densely covered. Covertly and alert, we moved slowly through the restricted woodland, taking in the forbidden sights, before slipping back into the accessible part of Rhinefields Sandys and out into heathland beyond.

Beyond the enclosure Ober Water threads its way through the valley, it too has succumbed to the freeze in places; the banks fringed by an icy pelmet. It must be cold for even flowing water to freeze. A line of Ponies process gracefully through the browning heather and tussocks towards the banks of the stream and the lush green grass grazing which awaits them.

Friday 26 November 2010

Ocknell


Ocknell Enclosure (1775) always appears to have a different air to anywhere else in the forest, a strange eerie place, no matter what the season, what the time of day or weather, the woods have a foreboding feel, most unnerving, as if you're being watched by unseen eyes. Although a planned enclosure, the mature oaks and Beech have a wild feel, interspersed with Birch and Holly the woods have taken on a natural aspect. At the Northern edge of the woods are the head waters of Highland water, later to become the Lymington River; where these waters meet the main track passing through the wood, a fallen tree, fallen many years ago, yet still budding each spring. The trunk of this recumbent tree is covered in graffiti, more so then any trunk yet encountered. The marks left cut into the bark range from the 1980's to present and probably represent bored youth staying at the nearby Ocknell Camp Site, part of the former Stoney Cross Airfield.

Thursday 25 November 2010

Crisp morning

Jack Frost has dusted each individual blade of grass or sedge, each browning fern frond and bough on the lawn beside Ober Water below Markway bridge. A favourite spot for Deer, they lurk amongst the trees, waiting for the sun to reach out and warm them on this crisp cold morning. Ober Water is crystal clear, flowing swiftly through the valley, engorged by the recent rain. Winter's surely coming.

Wednesday 24 November 2010

i c u, u c i

Red Sphagnum

Tiny ice crystals bedeck each delicate frond of the red and green sphagnum moss around Soarley Bottom.

Tuesday 23 November 2010

Mark Ash

The huge Beech stands of Mark Ash are sight to behold, huge trunks, now bereft of foliage, rise majestically towards the sky. Mark Ash is undulus, a network of bluffs and gullies, feeding into moss filled valleys, the origin of brooks. The canopy is not complete though, there are localized and more substantial voids, lingering reminders of the great storms of over 20 years go. In 1987 a hurricane strength storm ravaged the South, wreaking chaos throughout the forest; scores of ancient leviathans were toppled. Evidence of these fallen leviathans still litter the woodland floor, while the tall stumps of trees ripped in half by the howling winds, rot like mammoth termite hills. Giant decaying hulks, returning, finally, to the earth to nourish the next generation, eternally recycled, a permanent feature of the forest. Dry compressed patches are visible in the deep beech leaf mass, evidence of the overnight rest spots of Deer, common about these parts.

Monday 22 November 2010

1836?

The graffiti says 1836, although the tree, a beech tree, appears to be too small at only 1.25m in circumference, about 110 years old, taking into account it's growing in close proximity to other more mature trees. The number style is consistent with other graffiti of the 1800's identified elsewhere in the forest. The tree is in close proximity to the site of Holm Hill cottage and several other nearby trees sport interesting graffiti.

Sunday 21 November 2010

Mill Lawn Brook

Again the damp is penetrating, chill fingers jab relentlessly at any exposed skin, a brisk wind blows amongst the trunks. The woodland floor is now blanketed in a thick layer of newly fallen leafs, softened by the rain, yet still exuding a gentle crisp sound when trodden on and compressed. The woods feel closed for business, all the jobs completed, every harvest collected, (nearly) every leaf fallen, another good years work well done and a rest now well deserved. Amidst the stands of the Old Enclosure early victims of the seasons weather have crashed to the ground, a huge Beech bough has fallen taking down several small Holly trees; the Holly trees are now accessible to the hungry horses who have gathered to feed on the evergreen spiky fare, whilst others graze beyond the wood along Mill Lawn Brook. The brook has retreated back with in its banks after flooding the open lawn, although not completely with several areas of standing water remaining, some knee deep! Detritus carried by the recent floods and left during the waters retreat pay testament to the extent and power of the flow; and the wet season is only just beginning.

Saturday 20 November 2010

Juniper

Amongst the trees which flank Red Rise Brook above Markway bridge is a Juniper tree, boughs heavily weighed with berries, some dark purple, ripe for picking, others still juvenile and green. The berries aren't really berries, rather cones with fleshy and merged scales. The Juniper (Juniperus communis) is becoming an increasingly rare evergreen species in the British countryside, suffering from changes in farming practice, rabbits and uncontrolled grazing by livestock and deer. This is the only one I know of.

Friday 19 November 2010

Red Rise Furze Brake

The forest today was cold, really cold, the coldest day thus far. Mist covered the land, swirling amidst the stands, racing over the heather, becoming thicker as you descended into the valleys, a chill mist, it embraces you, penetrating your cloths and chilling your bones. Dampness clung to everything, filling every space. A filigree of small water courses run between the tussucks of tough grasses, feeding into gullies which channel through the woods to feed Red Rise Brook. The landscape, what could be seen of it, was silent, nothing stirred; any woodland inhabitants that could would be tucked up.

Wednesday 17 November 2010

Night walk

The forest is dark and foreboding, not surprising as it's night, the sky is heavy with rain laden clouds, mist hangs in the trees and the scene is reminiscent of a Hammer movie set. The ground underfoot is sodden, the down pours of the past few days have inundated the land; Red Rise Brook has swollen beyond it's banks and now covers swathes of the surrounding valley. Although normally a gently flowing brook, Red Rise takes on a far different aspect when engorged, it's deep pools, log jams and hard to define channel, pose a formidable obstacle and a serious danger. Together the dark and flooded landscape stirred a primeval fear deep inside. As if on cue an Owl hoots and amidst the trees of the break, all dripping creating a sound like a hundred faulty taps, something stirs, Deer, disturbed by our approach break from cover and disappear out into the open heathland of Red Rise Furze Brake. It's easy to spook yourself on night walk like tonights, not until you climb up Rooks Hill do the imagined specters fade back into the darkness .

Tuesday 16 November 2010

Jacks back!

Jack's back! The land this morning was covered with his overnight labours; each blade of grass, each bud and stem, glistened with iced jewels; he and his minions are hard workers. Though much of his works were undone by the rising Sun, bursting with unseasonal warmth. The ground and foliage steam like a hot bath, sending steamy mists swirling through the stands of mature Oak and Beech, filling the nearby densely planted Pines and Firs like fog. The swirling plays tricks on you, creating persistent glimpsed shapes and movement only visible through peripheral vision, vanishing when looked for directly. Or maybe they're Mythagos. Suddenly guns sound through the woods, echoing through the trees and in the distance between the semi naked boughs dogs can be seen working; what their quarry is is uncertain. A beautiful day.

Monday 15 November 2010

Stag in the mist

Damp mist hangs amongst the mature stands of Brinken Wood and the adjacent heather cloaked shade. The ground, now rapidly becoming sodden, is wet under foot with standing water filling every hollow or low patch, seasonal ponds refreshed; both shade and woodland are criss crossed by gently flowing shallow gullies feeding nearby brooks. All sounds are muffled, the woods are quiet, still, throughout the woodland groups of Deer move gracefully as they graze, occasionally pausing to survey their surrounds for dangers. Suddenly, the Sun is exposed by the retreating clouds; the unleashed heat quickly begins to burn off the mists; it's sure to return at dusk to reclaim the land, but for now the day takes on a welcomed warm glow.

Birken shade



Saturday 13 November 2010

Autumn Sunset

Horses stand silently amidst the fading Oaks of Warwick Slade, resigned to the changing season, they gently graze in the face of the adversity they will likely endure through the thin times ahead. They watch us pass with suspicion. Warwick Slade, indeed the whole forest, is wet under foot, standing water is visible throughout filling any hollow or low ground; walking can become increasingly arduous. Again, walking in familiar regions we traverse previously untrodden paths; tracts of wood, brooks and hollows as yet unseen. As evening draws closer the bland damp grey sky gives way to a sunset of blues, pinks, oranges and reds. Any warmth from the fading Sun that had permeated the blanket of cloud, disappears along with Sun; the air cools and fine mists rise from a myriad of small brooks and gullies, filtering through the the stands of silhouetted trees to spill out, retaking the night landscape.

Friday 12 November 2010

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes

Change in the forest is tangible, your senses are overwhelmed; the sound of change heard through the sounds of water coursing, the smell of damp fills your nose and all abouts change is clearly upon the land. How swiftly appears Autumns transit, there is no mistaking winters approaching. An increasing number of skeletal forms amongst the canopy herald the opening of the woods, boughs which until recently masked views between stands sway naked, seasonal vistas revealed. Other trees will retain their finery. Douglas Firs are the most agreeable of the introduced tree species, their strong, sweet, heavy scent fills the air*, their massive forms, striking and impressive, never fail to bowl you over. Thick, tall and imposing trunks stretch out of sight, piercing the canopy with ease.

Throughout the open area around Milliford Bridge cows and horses vie for the lushest, tastiest patches to graze, moving amongst each other gingerly, there are occasional confrontations; it's a turf war, literally! There's movement amongst the woodland fringe, a band of pigs move through the trees like marauders or pillaging Vikings; it's akin to the plains of the Serengeti, although a touch smaller and damper. The rain continues to fall silently.

*The strong smell of this species arises from the sticky resin which exudes from the bark; a good burning (incense) resin.

Wednesday 10 November 2010

Houns Tout

Shelter

Nestled into the side of the head of a valley adjacent to farm buildings and the former site of a World war 2 Radar Development Establishment at worth Matravers is this beautifully camouflaged air raid shelter. Shielded by an old Elder tree, the exterior of this shelter is reinforced by feet of dry stone walling, inside the prefabricated concrete shelter is about 3m square and remains in fantastic condition.

Tuesday 9 November 2010