Dolphinholme, mon amour

After a week of overnight roadworks within earshot of our house - at least, when the bedroom window was open, which, of course, it had to be during the hot nights of August - we were glad our holiday destination was in the middle of nowhere, with only the sound of tawny owls to disturb our sleep. 

It was all very grand. We were issued with a fob that opened the wrought iron gates remotely, like we'd been parachuted into 'Five get into Trouble' and were being admitted into the grounds of the rather sinister Owl's Dene. 

Not that we were staying in the hotel; rather, the coach house from when this place was a private residence. 

And very nice it was too, apart from there being a wasps' nest in the roof when we first arrived. There were acres of land to walk in, which was lovely for our collie, Cwtch, although she had to stay on the lead because there were lots of hares and rabbits already in residence, not to mention sheep and deer. 

Even the fungi was on the decorative side:

The Hall is just a stone's throw from the pretty River Wyre, which flows into the Irish Sea at Fleetwood.

One day we walked up its opposite bank to the village of Dolphinholme, but mostly we viewed it from the grounds of the Hall. 

To the east of our accommodation we could see the western edge of the Forest of Bowland, the same view that was always on the horizon when I was a student. It was in part these hills that made me want to come to Lancaster to study, as they reminded me a little of Dartmoor, but having no car back then, I never got to go up there.

So we did this time. Sadly, we couldn't go for a walk, as although it's access land, dogs aren't permitted, but I drove to the viewing point at Jubilee Tower, near Quernmore, from where we were at least able to get a closer look.

The jubilee in question was the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897.

Ward's Stone

Grit Fell

Clougha Pike

The more well-known names and landmarks were off to the west:

Looking up to Morecambe Bay and the Lake District

Heysham Power station, far right, and Lancaster University in the middle distance

The Lune estuary

Blackpool Tower, left of centre

Snowdonia in the far distance

One place I didn't revisit was the University of Lancaster campus, partly because dogs aren't allowed on site, but also because some things to do with that time are much more comfortably left in the past. I did, however, think it would be good to get to the horseshoe bend in the River Lune called Crook o' Lune, which was the name of the bar in our college, Lonsdale - this being in the original college buildings, which have now apparently been subsumed into neighbouring Bowland College, with Lonsdale rebuilt elsewhere. It was also a fond nickname for the then barman, John Allan, who wasn't averse to pouring a bottle of Crème de Menthe into the juke box when he wanted some peace and quiet, and was a bit of a legend. 

The famous view beloved by John Ruskin and painted by J M W Turner was obscured by mist, which was a bit ironic. 

We set off on a lovely flat path up the River Lune but the Northerner's knees were being particularly cantankerous and we had to turn back, the Crook eluding us on this occasion. I did find a magnificent pheasant tail feather, though, which conjured my grandmother. I wondered if it was the pheasant that was on one of her table mats when I was really small, before the era of the tin ones with their rather more arty scenes of London, but the memory was more tactile than that. Something about her maybe having a tail feather herself at some point, brought back from Scotland by my Auntie Peggy is ringing a distant bell ... or maybe I'm making it up, I can't be sure.

And pleasingly, if unexpectedly, we encountered one of Carol Ann Duffy's Pendle Witch poems, marking a stop on the route the prisoners took from the Pendle area to Lancaster Castle, where they were tried and hanged. 

A holiday Cwtch

Some holiday feathers:

magpie feather from the Wordsworths' garden, crow, jay, pheasant, kestrel, buzzard, tawny owl, mallard, curlew, oystercatcher, song thrush, mistle thrush

A return to Acton Court

Acton Court. I visited it last year for the first time with my friend, Cathy, but the lavender wasn't out and it looked like it would be spectacular when it was, so we resolved to go back this year, only later in June, which is the only month it's open to the public, just to see it. And lo, we did.

(If you're wondering about the presence of King Henry VIII above, he visited Acton Court in 1535 with Anne Boleyn. Can't say I care to see monsters celebrated, but the idea and execution of the vase is lovely; I just wish it was Anne.)

And the lavender was out, and it was spectacular.

buff-tailed bumble bee

small skipper

I didn't take a lot of photos of the house and garden as I did all that last year, but some vistas were still too hard to resist. 

One place we didn't visit last year was the extraordinarily well-appointed loo in the royal apartments - not, unfortunately for Henry, available to him during his visit, though there was a garderobe, of course, which was probably cutting edge at the time. This modern version even has a bed in it! 

This time of year, wherever I walk, I'm on the look-out for feathers, and I was delighted to spot both a tawny owl feather ... 

... and my first barn owl primary, having only found secondaries and a couple of body feathers up till now.

Over a cup of tea and some sublime cake, accompanied by Lesley Saunder's lovely collection of poems about the house, we decided we wouldn't mind making the visit to Acton Court an annual event.

Feather hunting on Purdown

This summer I've done a lot of walking on Purdown, a hill in the north of Bristol. It's somewhere I've known all my life, with lots of open space, and views over to Bath and the northern outliers of the Mendips.

Mostly, though, we've walked in its woods, to escape either the humidity or the rain. These I know reasonably well, though occasionally I still get lost for a moment or two, until I work out where the motorway is and re-orient myself. 

There are many relics of Stoke Park estate and the family who lived there to be found in the woods, or glimpsed from them, but the best things, I think, are the trees and the wildlife they attract. 

Here's just a few particularly magnificent specimens.

There's little in the way of flowers to be seen this late in the year ... TOP:  1. Fleabane  2. Enchanter's nightshade  3. Cuckoo pint  4.  Red bartsia   BOTTOM:  5. Guelder rose  6. Tree bumble bee on thistle  7. Musk-mallow  8. Cinnabar moth caterpillars on ragwort ... 

... but each visit brings more fungi. 

So many interesting mossy hollows in the trunks of trees. Each time I pass, I can't help wondering who lives in a house like this. 

TOP:  1. Dead shrew  2. Badger sett  3. A fallen mossy nest; maybe a blue tit's?  4. A crocodile    BOTTOM:  5. Fox den in the roots of a tree?  6. A muntjac jaw  7. Possibly a rabbit warren?

Having been encouraged at a young age to pick up shells on the beach, which my mother would fill with polyfilla to make little tortoises and mice to sell on her handicraft stalls - it was a simpler time - I fell into the habit of walking around with my head underground early on. And as this blog attests, I'm a habitual collector of what I spot. Finds this summer include some hoggin ...

... and, best of all, lots of feathers. I love finding feathers! When I was small, long before bird flu was a thing, my mother - her again - used to tell me off for rubbing them against my cheek. I still do that, given half a chance. 

Though 'finding' feathers is a bit of a misnomer. You have to hunt for them. Each photo below represents two and a half to three hours' feather hunting, and that's not counting the trips home, empty-handed - there's been a fair few of them. Though I have to say, Purdown has been a good hunting ground this summer. 

Tawny owl feathers

A jay tail feather and a magpie feather

CLOCKWISE from left:  two buzzard feathers, two great spotted woodpecker feathers, two more buzzard feathers, two magpie feathers, two jay feathers, a tawny owl feather

From left: buzzard feather, jay covert, great spotted woodpecker feather, three magpie feathers

From left: a jay feather, a magpie feather, a tawny owl feather, a buzzard feather

From left: a sparrowhawk feather, two magpie feathers, a blue tit tail feather, a great spotted woodpecker tail feather, two buzzard feathers, plus the nest

a jay feather and a tawny owl feather

two buzzard feathers

CLOCKWISE from left:  green woodpecker feather, two jay tail feathers, two jay coverts, mallard feather, tawny owl feather

buzzard feather

Jay predation site

The finding of the first jay covert was a big moment, as I'd spent years scouring the ground, squinting at every bit of turquoise plastic, paper, string, etc and being disappointed. (It was still a great feeling when I found my first secondary at Wightwick Manor, four years ago, but a covert still eluded me.) This time the flash of blue was right under my foot as I climbed a steep slope and I was sure it was just a few loose fibres of synthetic string, but as I smoothed it under my fingers, it became clear what it was. 

The fact I found two more - pristine coverts, each at the base of a tree - a couple of weeks later was just weird after waiting so long. And the feathers from the predation site (by a fox) are bittersweet. Most of the feathers were too battered and chewed to save, but I did keep four coverts - that were barely noticeable in the dirt - and a wing feather. They'll look better after they've been steamed and gently reshaped. 

But it goes to show, it's always worth picking up feathers (even if you think they're just woodpigeon ones, which they are 99% of the time), turning them over and brushing off the dirt. Each of the three jay tail feathers were face-down and only revealed themselves as I was cleaning them up.

Any feathers I pick up but don't want to keep, I usually tuck into a crevice in the bark or under a strand of ivy, as an appeasement to the feather gods: I am grateful for your gift, value it and am offering it back to the universe. The hope is that they'll send me something more interesting and sometimes they do. 

The fact that these feathers also act as waymarks on return visits is handy. Several times I've found myself in part of one of the four woods for the first time, only to find a feather signalling that I have actually been there before, having approached from a different direction. It really helps with orientation. 

The summer's over, and probably the best of the season of falling feathers too, but with luck there will still be some to find while I'm out and about with the dog; I hope so.