21st June 2014
As it is a 13k walk to Coldrum Longbarrow, I left at 12.30am to get there in good time. Polaris was bright and I followed until I entered the woods. The change for the senses is that hearing and smell is dominant. The perfume of Honeysuckle and Mallow filled the air along the pathways and lanes. Tawny Owls called for reply and animals scuttled among the woodland litter. When I stopped to look, sharp eyes reflected lamplight back to me; they watched suspiciously through the trees as I walked by.
A Nightjar churred constantly through Hurst Wood, and the sound diminished as I approached Platt Wood. The night was warm and windows were open to cool the sleeping occupants of the village and I walked on the verges where possible so as not to disturb people from their dreams. The Beech trees which blocked my way on the Spring Equinox walk had been cleared and I made my way easily to the motorways which were busy as usual and I walked under the road at the bridge at the M20/M26 intersection.
I caught a glimpse of Mani through the trees in Ryarsh Wood and as I neared Coldrum, flashes of light lit the trees. At the longbarrow, perhaps twenty people were there; sitting at fire-sides, dancing, drinking, smoking(!), breathing and juggling with fire, drumming and enjoying the time before the moment to come.
Mani looked down on Venus, and Capella watched over Sol as she glowed from below the north east horizon. As the orange glow intensified, everyone looked north east and the drummers' rhythm increased. Sol appeared with a majesty and benevolence and our faces reflected the glory and our cameras clicked with a frenzy.
I toasted Sol with a tot of mead and shared some with a new friend. I had to leave the party, with a long walk ahead of me; pipes were playing softly as I left and the walk back was warm and the new day sparkled. The morning was rounded off with sunny tea in Hurst Wood surrounded by Foxgloves and Chestnut suckers, birdsong and bees.
Monday 23 June 2014
Wednesday 18 June 2014
Bad dog!
15th June 2014
A hot day was expected but didn't materialise. It was overcast and a cool northerly kept the fleece firmly on my back. Dee and Maisie joined me and we left Kilndown along the Bedgebury lane past Prior's Heath, which was part of the old Combwell Abbey and then Priory, of Robert de Turneham in the 12th century, and into the grassy meadow where Maisie leapt onto a Pheasant which was rescued by Dee with much remonstration and he flew off minus several feathers. Then across to the Great Lake where we met some inquisitive calves, all waiting at the stile. Maisie thought they they may be good sport, but was under close control, and so was frustrated. She then licked a cow-pat. Bad dog! Through Bedgebury Forest and down the old droveway onto Bishops Lane, the wind was broken by the trees hedging the lane; just birdsong was heard, roses prettified the dullness and iron is no longer transported along this ancient way. From Hartley to Cranbrook, along the road, traffic dulled the pleasure, but breakfast at the War Memorial was peaceful, in spite of the earnest travellers.
The owners of Angley Wood welcome walkers, but all was quiet and we were alone through the woodland and we crossed over the Hartley road into the Glassenbury estate without meeting a soul. But the sky was brightening and butterflies were abroad. And by the streams, damselflies flitted and darted and ducks hurried onto ponds to escape Maisie. The footpath skirted Smugley Farm through barley and meadows and soft green shadows by the stream; and then up to Goudhurst for coffee and cake at Weekes the Baker, sitting in the high street on the hill in the Sun.
It was busy along the narrow lane to Finchcocks, with cars passing to and fro on their way to see the musical instruments on display there. The gardens have been restored to their original glory also (by an old friend of mine, Lynda Shepherd). We passed by along the footpath through the parkland and climbed the hill back to Kilndown for a final cuppa by the quarry pond and we watched the damsel flies settle about the lily pads and the fish jumping for flies. The Spotted Orchids were tall by the water's edge and the Yellow Flag Irises reflected the summer.
A hot day was expected but didn't materialise. It was overcast and a cool northerly kept the fleece firmly on my back. Dee and Maisie joined me and we left Kilndown along the Bedgebury lane past Prior's Heath, which was part of the old Combwell Abbey and then Priory, of Robert de Turneham in the 12th century, and into the grassy meadow where Maisie leapt onto a Pheasant which was rescued by Dee with much remonstration and he flew off minus several feathers. Then across to the Great Lake where we met some inquisitive calves, all waiting at the stile. Maisie thought they they may be good sport, but was under close control, and so was frustrated. She then licked a cow-pat. Bad dog! Through Bedgebury Forest and down the old droveway onto Bishops Lane, the wind was broken by the trees hedging the lane; just birdsong was heard, roses prettified the dullness and iron is no longer transported along this ancient way. From Hartley to Cranbrook, along the road, traffic dulled the pleasure, but breakfast at the War Memorial was peaceful, in spite of the earnest travellers.
The owners of Angley Wood welcome walkers, but all was quiet and we were alone through the woodland and we crossed over the Hartley road into the Glassenbury estate without meeting a soul. But the sky was brightening and butterflies were abroad. And by the streams, damselflies flitted and darted and ducks hurried onto ponds to escape Maisie. The footpath skirted Smugley Farm through barley and meadows and soft green shadows by the stream; and then up to Goudhurst for coffee and cake at Weekes the Baker, sitting in the high street on the hill in the Sun.
It was busy along the narrow lane to Finchcocks, with cars passing to and fro on their way to see the musical instruments on display there. The gardens have been restored to their original glory also (by an old friend of mine, Lynda Shepherd). We passed by along the footpath through the parkland and climbed the hill back to Kilndown for a final cuppa by the quarry pond and we watched the damsel flies settle about the lily pads and the fish jumping for flies. The Spotted Orchids were tall by the water's edge and the Yellow Flag Irises reflected the summer.
Wednesday 11 June 2014
Wild Roses and Sun
8th June 2014
This is the time of the wild rose, Foxglove, Bramble-blossom, Meadowsweet and Mallow. The cool morning gave way to the hot Sun. Butterflies were abroad: Tortoiseshell, Red Admiral and Meadow Brown. Damsel flies settled. And sheep were taking the shade.
The woodland walk hid the Sun's heat but the paths were overgrown with Stinging Nettles and Brambles and tall grasses. The nettle hairs found their way through my trousers and thorns tore at my arms. It was an adventure of epic proportions!
Poppies dotted the crops in the fields with blood-red and on this 70th anniversary weekend of D-day, I remembered my uncle Peter who died near Caen, Normandy, in a fierce battle on the 20th June 1944. My father's beloved brother gave his life for me and us all.
Swallows and Skylarks busied themselves above Doris' bench and the green valley shone below. Later, on the other side of the valley, a sprinkler at the plant nursery cooled me and, refreshed, I continued to Ivy Hatch and took tea at Ightham Mote where walkers with yapping dogs parked and embarked wearing wellies and T-shirts.
Across Fairlawne land, at the avenue of limes, two girls on horses came through the gate two hundred metres away. They started at a gallop and went by me at a furious pace, shouting, good morning! And whooooo! And I wished it was me. I remember so well.
A cup of fruit tea under the shade of Silver Birch by a silver stream on a hot afternoon is to be recommended. No one will disturb, you are alone and all is peaceful. And the Buzzard call was distant.
The relentless heat bore bore down as I walked through the burgeoning wheat home and I was thankful of plenty of water and a cool shower awaited.
This is the time of the wild rose, Foxglove, Bramble-blossom, Meadowsweet and Mallow. The cool morning gave way to the hot Sun. Butterflies were abroad: Tortoiseshell, Red Admiral and Meadow Brown. Damsel flies settled. And sheep were taking the shade.
The woodland walk hid the Sun's heat but the paths were overgrown with Stinging Nettles and Brambles and tall grasses. The nettle hairs found their way through my trousers and thorns tore at my arms. It was an adventure of epic proportions!
Poppies dotted the crops in the fields with blood-red and on this 70th anniversary weekend of D-day, I remembered my uncle Peter who died near Caen, Normandy, in a fierce battle on the 20th June 1944. My father's beloved brother gave his life for me and us all.
Swallows and Skylarks busied themselves above Doris' bench and the green valley shone below. Later, on the other side of the valley, a sprinkler at the plant nursery cooled me and, refreshed, I continued to Ivy Hatch and took tea at Ightham Mote where walkers with yapping dogs parked and embarked wearing wellies and T-shirts.
Across Fairlawne land, at the avenue of limes, two girls on horses came through the gate two hundred metres away. They started at a gallop and went by me at a furious pace, shouting, good morning! And whooooo! And I wished it was me. I remember so well.
A cup of fruit tea under the shade of Silver Birch by a silver stream on a hot afternoon is to be recommended. No one will disturb, you are alone and all is peaceful. And the Buzzard call was distant.
The relentless heat bore bore down as I walked through the burgeoning wheat home and I was thankful of plenty of water and a cool shower awaited.
Tuesday 3 June 2014
June arrived pleasantly
1st June 2014
Pinch punch, it's the first of the month!
Dee, Maisie and myself set off from Ightham Mote under the Sun and took the steep route for Seal Chart. Dee, as usual, left me behind as I puffed and panted up the hill, but waited for me with Maisie at the top and we looked out back over the tree tops and the green horizon. It was cool under the trees, which slowed my sweat and when my breath was caught, we started down the deeply trodden ancient trackway through the Common, high on the ridge. On the woodland verge, delicate pale yellow flowers, Common Cow Wheat, not a delicate name, nodded their heads as we passed. We walked in our ancestors' footfall past St. Lawrence's Church and down to Oak Bank Hall and The Grove. Here we crossed the road onto the golf course and followed the path to Godden Green for breakfast on the green opposite 'The Stag' pub under the warm Sun.
In the wood at Godden Green, a Jay, such a beauty with blue wings, was being harassed by mother Blackbird who had a nest nearby, no doubt. And there was a clearing, with two large Beeches each end with the canopy creating a great hall and birdsong filled the space. From there we made our way to Knole Park; I was hoping to see new born fawns but we were probably a little early. We shall come back later in the month. Up in an Oak tree, Jackdaws were feeding their young in an old woodpecker's hole. There was a great chattering when mum appeared and shoved food inside. Out of the park and along the Greensand way, we stopped for another break on One Tree Hill overlooking the Weald. A family with young children walked by and the little boy said 'can we have our picnic now'? No, not yet, said dad. And on they went.
We followed on after them but parted at Willmot Hill to go into the Sun and down to Budds and into the cool woods there. It had clouded over a little when we came out the other end, so we didn't have to suffer the heat crossing the wheat fields to Shipbourne. Going over to Ightham Mote, the family were in a meadow having their picnic and we waved hello. Then on to the cafeteria for coffee, and home.
Pinch punch, it's the first of the month!
Dee, Maisie and myself set off from Ightham Mote under the Sun and took the steep route for Seal Chart. Dee, as usual, left me behind as I puffed and panted up the hill, but waited for me with Maisie at the top and we looked out back over the tree tops and the green horizon. It was cool under the trees, which slowed my sweat and when my breath was caught, we started down the deeply trodden ancient trackway through the Common, high on the ridge. On the woodland verge, delicate pale yellow flowers, Common Cow Wheat, not a delicate name, nodded their heads as we passed. We walked in our ancestors' footfall past St. Lawrence's Church and down to Oak Bank Hall and The Grove. Here we crossed the road onto the golf course and followed the path to Godden Green for breakfast on the green opposite 'The Stag' pub under the warm Sun.
In the wood at Godden Green, a Jay, such a beauty with blue wings, was being harassed by mother Blackbird who had a nest nearby, no doubt. And there was a clearing, with two large Beeches each end with the canopy creating a great hall and birdsong filled the space. From there we made our way to Knole Park; I was hoping to see new born fawns but we were probably a little early. We shall come back later in the month. Up in an Oak tree, Jackdaws were feeding their young in an old woodpecker's hole. There was a great chattering when mum appeared and shoved food inside. Out of the park and along the Greensand way, we stopped for another break on One Tree Hill overlooking the Weald. A family with young children walked by and the little boy said 'can we have our picnic now'? No, not yet, said dad. And on they went.
We followed on after them but parted at Willmot Hill to go into the Sun and down to Budds and into the cool woods there. It had clouded over a little when we came out the other end, so we didn't have to suffer the heat crossing the wheat fields to Shipbourne. Going over to Ightham Mote, the family were in a meadow having their picnic and we waved hello. Then on to the cafeteria for coffee, and home.
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