Cloudy Solstice

21 June 2013

  Kay woke me at midnight from a sweaty, fitful sleep. After preparation, I left for Coldrum Longbarrow at 12.30am. A ghostly Moon and Virgo were behind me in the southern sky. Ahead, the cloud was building. Leaving the village and the street lamps, it was quite dark, but not enough to use my head torch, until I reached Oxen Hoath. Lambs were bleating and a few night birds called, then all was silent. The dew on the long grass wet my legs through the parkland and the cow's spectral eyes watched me in the torch light. I followed the Walnut trees to find the Weald Way path.
  There was no light under the canopy in the wood at Gover Hill. I hadn't packed a spare lamp, so I hoped the batteries lasted the night. The silence was a little unnerving; all the night creatures made no sound, not even an Owl hooting. The cockerel at the stables was, for once, silent and I went through the gate as quietly as possible so as not to wake him. There was a bright orange Sulphur Polypore mushroom growing from a large Hazel tree close to the Old Saw Mill. The tree is done for!
  I now took my map from my bag: I didn't want to go off course tonight. Through Platt and the wood, up over Gallows Hill and I could now hear the M20 motorway.  It was comforting to see the WW way-markers from time to time. The path running parallel to the motorway was so overgrown, that nettles stung my legs and hands and brambles tore at my fleece. Rabbits scattered from my torch-light as I went under the motorway and through the sand pits.
  As I entered Ryarsh Wood, a bird began to sing and as I left the wood, the World was awake. At Coldrum, there were perhaps a dozen people sitting around a camp fire (NO FIRES! NATIONAL TRUST PROPERTY!) in the half light. We greeted each other and I made myself a cup of coffee. I had plenty of time; Sun-rise was at 4.45am. There was a buxom American woman with red flowers as a crown; a man pontificating with long plaited hair; a comedian and a two pretty girls with friendly dogs; a chap from Tunbridge Wells(!) and a couple or more trying to sleep with all the lively discussion going on. I was invited to join them, but although we were there for the same reason, I didn't want to join the discussion: I disagreed with any religious connotation!
  As the time approached, the American began to bang a drum and a large man rang a bell. The Sun rose behind the clouds and no amount of drumming and ringing would make her appear from behind her grey cloak. I drank a tot of mead to Sól, packed and left, saying cheerio!
  With daylight, it was easier going, but I made a slower pace, especially after the climb to Gallows Hill. It was all downhill from there and I was sleepy. In Platt Wood, there was a Badger's set, with fresh footprints in the red earth. A pressing matter became urgent and I went off the path, dug a hole and settled the matter. I felt much better! Back at the stables, Mr Cockerel was expressing himself vigorously and I sat within earshot to have a break among the Bluebells gone to seed.
  In the parkland, the cows viewed me much less suspiciously and I said 'good morning'. Sir Herne the Heron landed over at the Bourne and the Rooks were doing brisk business in the bottom field. I was back at 9am, ready for a kip!

 
The Sun is as important to a beetle,
As it is to me.
The beetle does not keep the seasons,
But I do. 
 

Windy Saturday

15 June 2013

   The Sun was blinding after the night's rain, and the ground damp. The Westerly was strong and very cool. In the bottom field at Oxen Hoath, a parliament of Rooks were discussing the day's agenda. And up in the parkland, a pastoral scene: Holsteins amongst the trees grazing or lazily chewing the cud. A family of Jackdaws in a great Cedar arguing among themselves near the big house.
   Under a roof of polythene, flapping and clattering, Loganberries are set. In the orchards, apples are embryonic swellings. From Gover Hill, the valley looked verdant and lush; the distant hills shrouded in mist. Hurst Wood was alive with bird song, little wind there; Wrens were calling, Blackbirds fluting and Pigeons clapping away, startled.  A woodsman was splitting Chestnut poles under a tarpaulin as I went through to the Walnut and Cobnut orchard where rabbits tolerated me for a while, and squirrels didn't. The cocks were crowing as usual at the stables. Well, I was early.
  Breakfast in the wind at Doris's bench chilled me and I left with coat and gloves on. The lambs in the bottom field were well grown, especially the boys; they walked with a swagger.
  On the long climb from Basted Mill to Scathes Wood, along the verges of the lanes and rides and paths, full and overgrown were Wood Forget-me-not, Yellow Archangel, White Dead-nettle and Herb-Robert. Where exposed, Queen Anne's Lace was now threadbare; rough treatment from the violent weather.
On the hill, at Paul's bench by the Holly, I sat for another break, and looked out over the valley where Buzzards wheeled and I remembered Raggedy Robin. A Dunnock visited me long enough to sing a cheery song, then went. And so did I, to Shipbourne.
The church clock struck eleven as I went through. Then across the green of long grasses, Buttercups, Clover and Oxeyes, and then through Dean Park Wood to Clearhedges. There, Dog Roses were just emerging; white and delicate blushing pink. But beware: there is danger behind the beautiful facade!

A grey day in June

9th June 2012

This morning the cold North wind carried away the birdsong. The sky was overcast and the morning grey. Dee and I (and Maisie) drove to Kilndown for a Goudhurst, Bedgebury walk. The strong wind meant that the gloves were on again; so very cold, not expected in June.
Down the road to Pump Hill, we were under a canopy of trees and the wind was silent there. A Wren was piping loudly from the hedgerow, ridiculously loud for such a tiny bird. Along the lane at Twysden, great clumps of Scullcap bordered the path. And at the bottom of the park at Finchcocks, where the fierce cold North Easterly cut into us, a Little Owl left an old tree stump, quite silently, as we passed by.
Close by Crowbourne Farm, Maisie caught a Blackbird chick which protested loudly, until it was rescued by a very cross Dee! In the wood at Crowbourne, there was a group of six or eight Dryad's Saddle mushrooms growing from a living Ash tree; a scaly yummy looking mushroom, the size of a dinner plate which would probably make you sick if eaten. So I left them alone. The birdsong was with us in the quiet of the wood.
After the hard climb to Goudhurst church, the south side of the hill was well out of the wind. A Kestrel kept us company for a while, while Maisie chased Pheasants, and it was explicitly evident that Maisie had eaten grass, as there was a blade poking out from her bottom, much to our amusement and disgust. Dee refused to pull it out!
At Marlingate, the wind whistled down the Lime tree avenue. Lords and Ladies were grouped under a tree; their Lordships erect and displaying themselves with abandon. We had our first break on a grassy bank before Three Chimney's Farm. It was no warmer and there was a little rain in the wind.
The quiet of Bedgebury Forest, brought a welcome respite. But there were no butterflies or moths; no damsel flies, just a few hardy bees. In a large clearing under patches of brilliant yellow Broom, Bluebells still flourished, resisting the inevitable advance of Summer. May was turning dusky pink and red, Elder and Rowan were in bloom in spite of the cold. There were Oxeye daises, of which I am so fond. The multicolored Rhododendrons provided a little cheer as we entered the Pinetum and we had a second break there. On Marshall's Lake, a pair of Canada Geese escorted a clutch of eight goslings, all very well behaved. Yellow Irises decorated the banks. We returned through the forest and went by The Great Lake toward Bedgebury Cross. It was quiet at the lake with just a few Canada Geese and Great Crested Grebes, so little chance to dawdle. On the Kilndown lane, Wild Strawberries were on the banks, delicate flowers and a promise of Summer fruit.
The rain had held off at least and the Sun began to trickle through as we arrived at the car. Then home and warmth!

It will be an age before this time will come again,
The season's works lies on the earth; all beauty spent.
Best not wish time is gone,
But Autumn is longed for.

Summer beckons

2^nd June 2013

A Thrush sang a sweet reveille to wake me and I rose with the Sun. The half Moon in the blue sky was a promise of the morning to come. Dee and I drove to Ightham Mote, one of our favourite walks to Sevenoaks along the Ridge.                                                                                           The lane to Rooks Hill was thick with Vetch and Germander Speedwell. Ransoms under the trees were flat now and the flowers gone to seed, but still there was the strong garlic odour. Yellow Archangel beautified the damp banks. In the wood, a hall of trees with a leafy roof was a church with birdsong echoing through the space.

Cool, with a carpet of Bluebells now gone to seed; their once proud heads laden with pods; their leaves flat, pale and lifeless. Summer beckons: a bridge between Spring and Autumn.                                                      The climb to the ridge is hard going but the views are so green and expansive. We went into Knole for breakfast, sitting against an ancient pollarded Sweet Chestnut, on the south side, away from the wind. Around the park perimeter we heard the Parakeets but could not see them, as much as we tried, so green they are! The deer were sunning themselves or grazing lazily, unconcerned about our presence. Rhododendrons in full bloom and are great blowsy things!

In a field before Lower Bitchet there were, possibly, the breast feathers of a Cuckoo. A meal for Reynard and his cubs in any case. The green lane from Bitchet Green was bordered with Queen Anne's Lace, thick and luscious and creamy with the bitter-sweet perfume remembered so well. There was a small defiant colony of Ransoms; still in flower and fresh. I picked some young leaves for my gravy later! The break for coffee on the top of the Greensand Ridge was at the bench which looks out over the valley like a theatre. You can see the whole World from there.                                                                                                                                                                  We were greeted by a bouncing gang of Labradors of different colours which pinched Dee's biscuits! The owner apologised, but too late! They were gone.                                                                                                                                           Scullcap and Red Campion were visited by an Orange Tip butterfly to take nectar at Willmot Hill and we crossed the path to go down to Budds and through the wood. St. Giles' Church at Shipbourne nestling in the trees on the hill was picturesque in the extreme with Sky larks all about us. Horse Chestnut candles of every hue pointing skyward, like on a Christmas tree. Later, toward the Mote, a Sky lark was singing madly, gliding above a fallow field stained yellow with Buttercups, then dropped suddenly and plopped onto its nest and was silent.                         Back at the Mote, the feeling was of pleasure but sadness that the time was over.

Cake!

26th May 2013

An early start today. Mr Robin's song was piercing in the still morning air. I drove to meet my Cuz (Pauline, capital C) at Kilndown church at 6.30am. She was early which took me a little by surprise, as I was trying to enter the locked church!

It was very cool as we set off toward Goudhurst; I needed gloves, and was glad of the three layers I was wearing. We made a short detour by mistake (nattering), but were back on track in a trice through the parkland at Finchcocks. 

We turned right before reaching the old Goudhurst railway station and followed the stream toward Pattenden, over the Kilndown - Goudhurst road. We debated the breed of sheep in the field here. I believe they may be Easy Care sheep; a low maintenance breed which doesn't require shearing. The footpath through the field, on the other side, had been planted with a bean crop and wasn't defined, so we guessed the route and came out a little way down where we should, but not our fault!

The camping site at Pattenden Farm has gone. Such a shame, I was thinking of camping here with Laurie.

We followed the road to Marlingate, then turned left down the lovely avenue of Lime trees toward Three Chimneys Farm. Lots of Germander Speedwell through here. At the stream which flows from the Great Lake, a Blackcap sang a sweet melody for us. We watched and listened for a while, such a pretty tune, then sat on a felled tree, with the hot Sun on our faces, for a coffee and (for me) breakfast of olives and nuts and cheesy things, which Paul shared.

Then on into Bedgebury Forest and butterflies and moths and cyclists. At the Pinetum, we watched a Crow pulling a baby Rabbit apart and he moved on with it in his beak when we disturbed him; such a heavy load. We stopped for coffee and cake as promised! And sat in the Sun and watched Coot chicks (so ugly) and Mallard ducklings (so pretty) paddling around on the lake. A Crow was strutting brazenly amongst the ducks searching for a duckling to scoff, much to the annoyance of the parents, who were trying to snooze in the Sun.

We left the Pinetum and went back through the forest. A Spotted Wood butterfly (not a Fritillary) with a broken wing, but still flying, was feeding on the Broom. Several  Brimstones and those daytime moths (the name of which was driving Paul MAD!) were about. What are they Cuz? (Speckled Yellow, she says!) Then on to the Great Lake and we watched a Great Crested Grebe dive a couple of times. And stopped while a snake (either a female Adder, or a Smooth snake - rare. Not a Grass snake, no yellow band. That's my story!) reared up at us, then disappeared into the lake. Then a Damsel Fly settled onto my head, much to Paul's amusement.

We left Bedgebury and went on to Kilndown. On the way, the roadside flowers: Common Vetch, Germander Speedwell and at Rogers Rough, I was proud to show where some Coral Root grows (and she nicked some seeds!)

A final coffee at the Quarry. Then we went our separate ways. There seemed a lot to see this Sunday. Perhaps it was the more leisurely walk and things were more noticeable. A splendid walk in any case (and watching Paul struggling to pull her pole out of the ground was very funny!).

A Sunny Bank holiday Monday scarce,

A long Smooth snake, not often found.

Some rare Coral Root with seed to take,

And like gold dust, a walk with my Cuz,

Worth the wait

19^th May 2013

Mr Robin and Mr Blackbird woke me from an exiting dream this morning, singing a duet. Robin was melodious but Blackbird sounded depressed.

It was overcast as I stepped out into the cool Easterly wind and I walked south toward Golden Green and the River Medway. At Goldhill Mill, the Crayfish beds have been dug out and replaced with a large lake and a couple of islands. Although the water's edge and the islands were bare, there were Greylag Geese, Coots and all sorts there.

Mr Blackbird spoke at Golden Green. He said, 'good morning, how are you?' Then again, 'good morning, how are you?' I said, 'very well, thank you', and went on my way. There were two Goldfinches on the hedge. I said how pretty they were (I'm seeing a lot of Goldfinches this year).

Down at the river, Sir Herne was being mobbed by Crows as he went toward the lock. He looked most unhappy as he tried to shake them off..

The river was flowing gently and as I turned west, the clouds parted and the Sun shone on my back. The bird song was deafening along the river and a Cuckoo called. There was plenty of Scullcap on the riverbank. At Eldridge's Lock, a fat Grey Wagtail chick (bright yellow underneath) was wagging his stubby tail as mum and dad were flying aerial acrobatics, catching insects to stuff down his throat. He was very hungry!

Tonbridge Castle was again playing host to the annual 100 mile cycling event in aid of charity. Dee was at the refreshment tent and plied me with free coffee and a biscuit and then sent me on my way.

Climbing out of Tonbridge, on the path to Hilden Brook, there were fat Spanish Bluebells on a bank. Escapees from gardens I suppose. They are not as pretty as our delicate variety. I had breakfast by the Hilden Brook amongst White Dead Nettle and Jack-by-the-Hedge with my back against a Hazel.

The bridle path from Coldharbour was bordered with trees, Bluebells, Red Campion, Herb-Robert and Golden Saxifrage; the very time to take this path.

My second break was in Dean Park Wood, and properly taken in the shade, as it was getting very warm in the Sun. The woodland floor was now deep blue.

Spring may have been late, but well worth the wait.

Two dogs!

12th May 2013

Mr Robin Redbreast woke me gently this morning. The stars are strangers to me now. The Sun was very bright through the kitchen window as I prepared myself and Poppy dog for our walk, and Dee arrived at 7am with Maisie. We introduced the dogs to each other and they ran in frantic circles, uncontrollable for several minutes until they were put into the car. Then they sat very quietly and looked at each other suspiciously until we arrived at Ightham Mote and continued the madcap racing. They finally settled down after a couple of kilometres and became firm friends.

Up on the Greensand Ridge, at the place where the Ransoms grows, it was in full bloom and if you squinted, it could be snow, it was so thick with white flowers; a great expanse through the wood.
A Turtle Dove called, so rare! A few times; the low throaty warbling. And then it stopped. Just when you want to hear some more. We tasted leaves from Jack-by-the Hedge: first garlic, then mustard. A little bitter, but tasty.

The air was clear and the horizon, south, bright and sharp. At the granite bench above Underriver, we caught our breath after the climb and approved of the view.

Before we entered Knole Park, Dee went off for a pee. She was followed by Poppy and Maisie. Poppy wanted to sit on her lap! Dee had great difficulty executing her objective!

In Knole, we stopped for breakfast. Poppy didn't want the huge bony chew purchased for her, so Maisie had it. It dwarfed her somewhat! Poppy went on the lead and pulled like a train, all the way round. I was such a relief to leave the park and enter the woodland! The deer in the park were sunning themselves out of the cool wind. The Parakeets were screeching up at the north end.

Poppy was back on the lead until Bitchet Green, pulling my arms out, and then to a second break at the Ridge. Poppy wanted to sit on my lap, and Maisie wanted Poppy's chew which Dee gave her. It was all I could do to rescue my coffee!

The Buzzards were out here, a favourite spot for them to search for grub. It was all downhill now, pretty much, to Shipbourne and back to the car. On the way, we thought that Maisie could teach Poppy to jump stiles as she is the expert. She failed abysmally, fell off backwards in shame and Poppy jumped in fine style!

A final coffee at the Mote and the dogs were ready to go home.