Dragon's breath at Winterbourne

Some morning walks are too beautiful to stick in a round up of beautiful morning walks; they need a post to themselves. Like this walk at Winterbourne, just outside Bristol, a few days ago.

The fellow-dog walker we met at the end of the lane, returning as we set out, was marvelling at how amazing the fields looked spread with mist. And once we were through the kissing gate, we agreed. 

The mist was less noticeable in the lanes, but there all the same.

St Michael's, Winterbourne

I was expecting an early autumn this year, after such a hot, dry summer, but it's only getting going now, right at the tail end of October.

Entering Monk's Pool Nature Reserve

Bradley Brook

next year's catkins in evidence

Heading into Bradley Brook nature reserve

Crossing Bradley Brook

By the time we were retracing our steps to the car, the dragon's breath had melted away.

wild radish

haws

vetch

back through the lane

Remembering Andi

 

Our friend in poetry, Andi Langford-Woods died in August. To be more precise, on August 12th, my grandmother's death day, and yes, Hilda would have had the kettle on ready for Andi when she arrived. 

I've attended several celebrations of Andi since then, the first being at Silver Street Poetry and Open Mic at the end of August, where several of us read poems in her honour. I chose 'Selkie' from 'Wain', Rachel Plummer's brilliant, LGBT-themed retellings of Scottish folk tales. 

Here's Jeremy Toombs, reading his poem 'Saint of Wandering Poets, Singers, Musicians and Other Vagabonds', which he also read at Andi's funeral on Michaelmas Day (which happens to be my mother's death day).  

Below are my impressions of the funeral, which I wrote down to read at Andi's memorial, three weeks later.

The memorial, at the Greenbank in Easton, was a night full of love, startling synchronicity, and Tunnock's tea cakes. 

Andi's backgammon board

Hazel

Tom

Julian, and memories of Acoustic Night Bristol

Dom and Seb

Jane

David on his Jew's Harp

Person whose name escapes me but who read one of my favourite poems, 'Jenny Kiss'd Me' by Leigh Hunt

Ian

I'll never forget how snugly I fitted under Andi's arm when I first stuck my head above the poetry parapet in Bristol, and how funny and fearless she was. It's impossible to accept she isn't still in her Dove Street eyrie, high above the city, so I'm not going to; she is there. She'll always be there.

Walking back to happiness

Shoulder impingement syndrome took me out of circulation for the whole of September and the beginning of October, though for the latter half of that time I was able to get out locally for some short walks with a cabin-fevered collie.

Early autumn is a strange time in the woods. The leaves are only just beginning to turn colour, and when the day is overcast, they're probably at their darkest - dense canopies still, with no long hours of summer light to pierce them. 

The fungi are putting on a bright display, though. 

Oh, and outside the woods, the Michaelmas daisies are spectacular.

One souvenir of the long, hot, dry summer we had is the sight of trees struggling and falling. 

Above, two fallen ash trees on Purdown ...

and another across our path that I couldn't identify because most of it had fallen into a thicket of brambles.

Below the woods in Stoke Park, I noticed one of the landmark oaks had dropped two branches ...

... while an ancient oak I used to visit with my old dog, Ted, is down and out. Going by the colour of the heartwood, it doesn't look as if it fell that long ago; on the other hand, there are no twigs left on it, so it probably died some time before it was downed. I have a photo of it in leaf as recently as 2021.

Elsewhere, we encountered a fallen yew on C*lston Hill ...

... plus, a much smaller pair of trees ... 

... and a huge beech across the path, all on the Blaise estate.

The damage is similar to what you might expect after a wild storm. True, October has seen Storm Amy, the first of this season's windstorms, but all these trees  fell in August and September (with the exception of the ancient oak). 

Since driving is one of the most painful things I can do right now, we haven't strayed beyond North Bristol. We've been to Badock's Wood on the River Trym ...

... and we've had a few turns around Blaise. 

Between ditches on Kings Weston hill fort ...

... and the very top of hill fort itself

The stone marking the 18th century boundaries of the Blaise estate and the Kings Weston estate

On the south side of Hazel Brook, storm clouds and some magnificent trees.

wasps' nest

It's been an amazing year for mast, and the squirrels have been fizzing and popping all over the place, which is suprising really as you'd think they'd have their gobs too full of acorns to draw breath, like this one at Snuff Mills, who watched me from a short distance for at least a couple of minutes. In the end it was me who looked away first.

Vassals Park

A little downstream, in Eastville Park, we encountered the local heron a few times.

Much like with the big beech across the path at Blaise, a section has now been cut through the hornbeam that toppled into the lake back in January, so people can walk around the lake again without having to stoop under/climb over it. Meanwhile it can still support wildlife, providing perches for fishers and nesting places for moorhens and coots, which is pleasing.

Cwtch by my favourite ash tree on the bank of the River Frome

Now the weather's cooler and the sun less bright, I've been straying from the woods a bit and have taken a couple of turns around Stoke Park on Purdown. It was fun watching hot-air balloons take off and drift east across the city one early morning.

Duchess Pond and the Dower House

The woods still have their allure, though, and we always walk through them to get back to the car.

fox jawbone

Sluggus magnificus

Being out of action for those last few weeks of the summer meant I missed the tail end of the season of falling feathers, with just these few ending up in my clutches ... 

CLOCKWISE from top left: jay, tawny owl, green woodpecker, magpie, ring-necked parakeet

... though until the leaves start falling more thickly, there's always hoggin to be found. Lovely to pick things up and stay in the moment.

My favourite bit was this self-decorated sherd at Blaise. It stayed where it was to finish its delicate work.