Green

It's that time again when the woodland closes in on itself, dressed in the lush green finery of springs new growth, the vistas of winters nakedness are all but gone and the woods are places of secrets glades filled with magical mystery once again. I think I love the trans-formative season of spring and autumn, best of all.  

Beetle

A beetle, beetles are cool.

Pentridge Hill

Grey clouds scud across the sky casting their fast moving shadows as Penbury Hill, an Iron Age Fort, stands guard over this ancient land as it has done for 2000 years or more. Cranbourne Chase is a landscape shaped by man and loved by man, a landscape of ritual significance to our ancestors and littered with their monuments. When walking its chalk downs and woodlands you sense its timeless nature and feel the presence of the past, without conscious thought you walk with reverence, this land is sacred.

Bluebell Wood

The Chase, always beautiful, is particularly fine when decked in Springs blue robes. Martin Wood is resplendent, carpeted for as far as the eye can see with Bluebells.

False Widow Spider

Although a lot bigger than I had imagined, all reputable sources suggest this spider is not dangerous and will give little worse than bee sting. Though the red tops and the media in general have whipped up a storm suggesting your leg might fall off or your head may explode if bitten. Still, I aired on the side of caution and removed it.

Mark Ash

Deep in the woods spring stirs. From the tree tops the birds eager songs ring out, a rallying cry to action, deer congregate amongst the stands, wary of danger they eye the forest for threats, ponies graze the lush greenery of the shades and all about the undergrowth is alive with movement as the woodland creatures awake and prepare for the season ahead. The forest is a place of wonders.

Birch

The Birch, always the first to begin to dress for spring.

Apple blossom

I look forward to the apple blossom, so fragrant, so sweet smelling, for me it embodies spring and all the potential there in. Sadly, some people are desperately thick and have allowed, nay encouraged, their hounds to vandalize some of our local apple trees, their lower boughs scared at the least or ripped off at worst. To me another indication of humanities increasing separation from our planet and a deepening lack of understanding of nature and her value; the apple is a symbolic fruit and a versatile food source, to willfully destroy it surely shows ignorance.

Hollow trees

Three hollow Oak trees all in a row.

Cowslip

You've got to love cowslips.

Natures door

A thoughtful dry stone waller has left animal accesses, which was nice. 

Blossom

Blackthorn blossom fills the hedgerows and shrub, the first of the thorn blossoms to show its flashes of white add a freshness to the landscape.The way to differentiate between Blackthorn and Hawthorn, whose flowers are almost, if not entirely, similar is that the Blackthorn flowers before it show leafs, where as the Hawthorn shows its leaf before flowering.

Bluebell dell

With such sad drooping heads, Bluebells should cut forlorn figures amongst the still bare stands, yet oh contraire, forming thick flowing carpets, their swaying purple blue heads bring the woodland dells to joyous life.

Forgotten bridge

Usually as you cross the small streams and rivers which cross the countryside, crossing is afforded by roughly hewn wooden bridges, made for function rather than form. Though, down in the Corfe valley, tucked away amongst the wooded fringes of the Corfe river we came across a beautiful stone hewn bridge.  Although, now suffering from time and neglect, it's clear that this bridge was made with beauty as much as function in mind; this bridge stuck out as rare. Its location and the absence of any well used trackway or significant occupation gives no sense of why such a well build bridge was built here, so it's a bit of an enigma.

Ramsons

The subtle smell of garlic fills Norden Wood. Ramsons cover the woodland floor, a carpet of green for as far as you can see, it wont be long before they burst into flower and their scent will be smelt long before their flowers seen.

Oil Beetle

Apparently this is a very rare Oil Beetle, or so a very enthusiastic fellow was telling everybody who passed him on ridgeway path near 9 barrow down.  Apparently, it they called oil beetles as when threatened they release an oil called hemolymph from their joints which is a poisonous chemical which can cause blistering and swelling, making them unattractive to predators. 

Corfe

Three views of the once mighty Corfe Castle, favoured bastion of Kings and former royal treasury, now a favourite with holiday making families and schools.  The castle is no doubt merely the last thing to be built on the strategically significant hillock set in the only gap in the Purbeck hills. I would imagine that the hill has, since prehistory, been viewed as significant by local populations and may have been the focus of ritual activity in those times. Although, it's unlikely we'll ever know as any past occupation or activity would have likely been erased by the castles building.  

A day at the Dormy

A vast complex of abandoned buildings covering an extensive plot of land; a huge hotel, a leisure center and spa, bars and ballrooms and all associated maintenance and staff buildings, are all that remains of one of the areas premier hotels. I can remember going there in the 1990's, at the time it had the deserved reputation of being rather swanky. In the early 2000's it ran into financial trouble and soon after by left vacant, youth and such like took their toll culminating with a fire in the main building. The site is now fenced off, though access can be achieved and it's still popular with the youth.  A great, and I must say in places scary, time was spent creeping about the ruined buildings and investigating; still more left for another visit.

Lichen

Studland evening

The later evenings facilitate a greater variety of walks. This evenings walk was through the Studland dunes and back along the beach and it was bloody marvelous.

Old coppice

As with so many others, the old coppice, once the scene of seasonal activity, traditional practices and craft production, lays in decline, abandoned and forgotten. Its products no longer required as new materials and techniques have overtaken the old ways, seen now as redundant. How far wrong we have gone, so separated from nature and her cycles. She once provided all we required and we were grateful to her.  No longer though. They call it progress I believe?