About Me

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Bristol , United Kingdom
Poet and poetry facilitator. Co-founder of the Leaping Word Poetry Consultancy, which provides advice for poets on writing, editing and publishing, as well as qualified counselling support for those exploring personal issues in their work - https://theleapingword.com. My sixth poetry collection, Love the Albatross, is now available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.
Showing posts with label Mendips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mendips. Show all posts

Tuesday, 31 December 2024

Purdown after Storm Darragh

Someone on Bluesky said that Storm Darragh sounded like someone wanted to say Storm Darren but then got hit by the storm. I remember the Great Storm of 1987 and the Burns' Day Storm of 1990 and it was nothing like as bad as them, but it was still pretty rough for a couple of days, Bristol being under a red storm warning.

In the three and a half weeks since, I've been up on Purdown - one of the highest points in Bristol - several times and have seen up to a dozen sizeable trees downed around the Stoke Park estate. It's been pretty sobering.

There are trees down in Long Wood ...







... Hermitage Wood ...

 


... Barn Wood ...






... and out in the grounds of Stoke Park. 






A fallen crow's nest

Unless they've fallen across a metalled path, downed trees in Stoke Park tend to be made safe - ie not likely to fall any further - and then left, so any sadness caused by the storm's iconoclasm is tempered by the knowledge that they will continue to provide habitat for local wildlife. Some trees that fell in earlier storms and remain partially rooted continue to leaf and flourish.

Preceding the storm, there was a lot of rain. The pools of standing water reminded me of the Wood between the Worlds in 'The Magician's Nephew' by C S Lewis; how, if you jumped into one of them, you'd find yourself plummeting through a portal into a different universe. 





The secret language of one of those other universes


gold leaf


There have been foggy days too ... 


... and even some bright days, with spectacular skies that are seen to their best advantage from Purdown. 


The Dower House


Looking east over Stapleton to Kelston Roundhill and south to the Mendips




Purdown Percy gun emplacements


Looking over west Bristol to Southmead Hospital ...


... and north to New Filton House, a view that will soon disappear when the houses have been built



Even the drab winter woods come alive when there's some light.



autumn and winter fungi


The work of the cherry gall wasp


Somehow, the deer are as invisible amongst the bare trees as they were in thick summer foliage, though they're clearly about.

Apart from the rose-ringed parakeets, the noisiest birds in the woods are the corvids. I missed the jay that was seen off by Cwtch but here are some crows and magpies.



What crow?


Magpies bonding through courtship feeding


A pie chart

There's still plenty of winter left, but the birds will soon be busying themselves and in another month, the days will be noticeably lighter. Roll on spring. 



Saturday, 7 March 2020

No Name Brook and Sam Treasure's Quarry

Does a brook called No Name Brook have a name? Possibly not. 

Actually, this might not be No Name Brook. It might be a tributary of No Name Brook but I can't check on a map because it isn't named. 
We were in Stoke St Michael visiting local poet, Louise Green, who took us down the lane that runs past her house to Stoke Lane Quarry, known locally as Sam Treasure's Quarry, which is all kinds of pleasing.


I was consumed with envy. What a place to walk your dog, or sit and write poems. 



We then headed on through the wood ... 


... to where either No Name Brook - or the tributary of No Name Brook - disappears into a swallet, which is, I suppose, a cross between a swallow and a gullet, etymologically speaking.  


The black holey thing is the entrance to a cave, of which there are many under the Mendip Hills. A sign on the rock reminds cavers to tell people where they are going in case they don't come back at the expected time. 


Back in the village we popped into St Michael's Church, which is mostly a Victorian rebuild and somewhat lacking in quirk, to be honest. 


Even St Michael's dragon failed to cut much of a dash. 


The real treasure on show is the appliqued hanging depicting the village as it was in 1918, which Lou had a hand in stitching and which was made to mark the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I. 


It's hard to get a good general photo of it because of the non non-reflective glass, but the real joy is in the detail anyway. 
Seventeen men and boys from the village died during that conflict. 

They are represented by tiny silver figures, each with its own red poppy of remembrance. 
There is one outside what is now Lou's house but then was his. It seems fitting that he should be commemorated by a member of the family who lives there now.