Exile from Elsewhere

I haven't been to the Field of the Hollowing Oak, or the Small Dark Wood of the Mind, or the common next to the disused airfield, or the footpath by railway embankment, or the farmland that is under development and will soon be the new Bristol suburb of Brabazon for ten days, not since I momentarily mislaid where I was in time and space and did me another spectacular ankle sprain that has seen me confined to the Settee of Suffering for a large part of my birth month, which is a shame because I love it. And I miss my little bit of edgelands. So here's some photos from the last couple of months to cool my cabin fever. 

Through the parables of sunlight and the legends of the green chapels

One thing we couldn't help noticing during this time was the slightly dispiriting passage of the setting sun from Twmbarlwm in Gwent along the hill behind the M5 to Avonmouth, finally reaching the point where it's just about disappear from view, and at the same time occurring progressively earlier in the evening, from 8.15pm on 19th August to 6.40pm on 3rd October. Of course it can't be summer for ever but it's hard to see it go.

Also, the progression of autumn colour, as the leaves turn yellow, gold and red, berries ripen and fungi mushroom. 

haws

blackberries and old man's beard

the hawthorn grove

acorns

oak bracket fungus

dogwood

the rookery

hawthorn leaves

hawthorn leaves and blackberries

oak

stump puffball

ghost dock leaves

a new view through the wood post-storm

In early September the time for picking wild damsons and making damson vodka came, so we did it. Having apples in our garden, we left the crab apples for the wildlife, along with more damsons than we took because other creatures need them too. 

The time of thistledown is waning though there are still moments of beauty ...

... and around the time of the Queen's death, the wild carrot seed heads were forming gilded sceptres.

There aren't that many feathers around to pick up any more either, though I did spot this beautiful buzzard feather on the edge of the Small Dark Wood of the Mind just after I'd watched its previous owner hunt overhead one lunchtime. 

In early September we saw a kestrel hunting a few evenings on the trot, including one night when there were two prospecting together ... 

... and the ravens did a few flypasts too.

 

The rookery is silent most of the time, but abruptly fills up at sundown. 

Other wildlife I spotted but didn't manage to capture included several sightings of green woodpeckers and quarrelsome jays. These two weren't getting away from me, though. 

There have still been some insects about, including two species of butterfly - small copper and common blue - I spotted within moments of each other, having tucked a couple of pigeon feathers - actually there are quite a few of those about still - in the heartwood of the hollowing oak as a gift. I hadn't seen a small copper up the field till that point. 

Clockwise from top left:  Dock beetle, clock beetle, speckled wood, small copper, large white, common blue, another speckled wood, thistle gall, greenbottle

And even when the skies seem empty of birds and insects, there's still plenty of cloud and colour to enjoy. 

Out on the farmland, the pond harbouring the Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water had gone dry. Maybe he'd gone on his hollibobs. We were there to see how the development was progressing. (We don't go too often as it's pretty depressing.)

Something else new was hearing a train down in the cutting for the first time. (Normally that line only takes freight trains at night.) Again, since there was clearly some work going on down at the disused halt last winter, I suspect it's to do with the new development.)  Cwtch was stopped in her tracks by the strange noises that were emanating. 

Talking of whom, she celebrated her birth month having a lovely time tearing about and especially playing with other dogs in a much more manageable way than would be the case somewhere more dog-dense, like the local park (though she does go there too from time to time). From being a nervous lockdown pup, she's turned into a playful but respectful young dog. 

And now, laid up with a fat blackened ankle, I'm missing it more than ever. Hope to be back soon.

A bluster on the Ogmore estuary

I'm in solidarity with the striking railway workers, of course, even though strike days mean a round trip from Bristol to Cardiff in rush-several-hours traffic to retrieve the Northerner, who relies on the train to get to work. Last week neither the evening nor the morning train was running, and as His Nibs was working a slightly truncated day, I decided to brave the blustery weather and stay in Wales for the duration. 

Cwtch the collie came too, of course, and after lengthy discussion, we decided on a sit-down on the beach at Ogmore-by-Sea, followed by a wander up the River Ogmore to Ogmore Castle. 

Looking over to Traeth yr Afon ...

... and the dunes of Merthyr Mawr

When I say 'blustery', it was actually blowing a gale, and we soon decided that hunkering on the beach wasn't an option and headed upstream, where we hoped it would be more sheltered. It wasn't ... but at least the wind was behind us, which was as well as a very wet rain started falling. 

There was the distraction of some giant parasol mushrooms growing amongst the bracken, though, and a sheep who clearly recognised Cwtch as a gringa, by upbringing if not birth, despite her Welsh name.

As we moved further up the valley, it stopped raining but stayed windy, which meant the back of my jacket and jeans soon felt quite dry.

Just above the bridge that leads to the sewage works is the point where the River Ewenny flows into the Ogmore, and it was along the bank of the former that our route continued, just a short way, to Ogmore Castle, complete with an array of molehills.

We're told Ogmore Castle was initially built of earth and wood by William de Londres, shortly after 1100, being fortified with a stone keep in 1116, when a Welsh lord attempted to get his land back. A curtain wall followed in the early 13th century. The moat was designed to fill with water at high tide. It was in use until the 19th century, as a court and a prison amongst other things, since when it's fallen into ruin.

There were sheep here too, guarding the ruins and equally unimpressed by Cwtch, who was safely on the lead at this point on our walk. 

Below the castle is a set of stepping stones crossing the Ewenny. Even though they were relatively low in the water, they looked a lot easier to cross than many of the ones I've tried on Dartmoor, but I didn't fancy doing it with a collie who's afraid of water in tow. 

I decided to walk back down to the beach along the edge of the warth, even though it was quite slippery in places from where the sheep had churned the mud. It was interesting being down at the level of the river instead of on the footpath above it, and I found a curlew feather. It was a job keeping it from blowing away in the wind. 

The red plant I took for glasswort, though it was more prostrate in habit than other glassworts I've seen. 

Eventually I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get all the way around to the beach along the side of the river, and would either have to retrace my steps a fair way or climb a short but steep and muddy path up the side of the cliff. This photo looking down doesn't really give you an idea of how steep it was ... 

... but I had to resort to hand and foot climbing, and was reminded of the last time I decided I was way too old for this sort of thing.

Back at Ogmore-by-Sea it was gloomy east of the river, where we were, and fine to the west. 

There was just enough time for Cwtch to have a little play on the beach ... 

... before we had to make our way back to Cardiff with our small treasures.