All Change in the Edgelands

 

I don't much care for change. Part of the stress is waiting for it all start - or, if it has, to reach you. 

Back in the cold snap before Christmas, we wandered over the fields on the far side of Fishpool Hill, where the development of Brabazon is already under way, and became quite disorientated, thanks to the removal of a short stretch of hedge that made two large fields into one huge one, and seemed to alter completely the lie of the land.

We've also heard - and seen - more goods trains running on the Henbury loop, which only used to happen at night, and which signals its reincorporation into the infrastructure of the area, as it becomes more densely populated.

There have even been changes in the Small Dark Wood of the Mind. I walked through with Cwtch, my dog, the other day, after an absence of three weeks, and was surprised to find the path that leads to the Grove of the Silver Chair (and Ruby Crown) had rebranded itself as Golden Gate Way ... so I had to go down it and find out what was happening. 

When we got to the clearing where we first saw a roe deer a couple of years ago, I was shocked to find that all the trees on that edge of the wood had been felled, and then I remembered hearing a chainsaw a few weeks ago and being relieved to find 'they' weren't cutting down the magnificent ash at the entrance to the wood. Now, sadly, I know what 'they' were up to. Here's how it is now, and how it was in April 2021. 

The Grove itself - and the discarded patio chair and builder's helmet that inspired its nickname - remain unchanged, but are themselves now right on the edge of an even smaller Small Dark Wood of the Mind. There might well be an excellent reason for this work being done, but it does seem a shame to reduce cover, in a wooded corridor where tawny owls (amongst other creatures) live, at a time when so much of the surrounding area is going under concrete.

Here's some more folklore in one of the gardens in the trailer park, namely, Blodeuwedd. ('She wants to be flowers but you make her owls. You must not complain, then, if she goes hunting.')

There have been a few more treasures to spot at this most apparently barren of times:

oak leaf with rivets, blackberries, a waxcap dancing the dying swan, badger poo studded with damsons, more waxcaps, a sea green snail shell, a little daisy showing its head, a bramble leaf, and sycamore leaves

As for fauna, apart from sparring magpies, jays, crows and rooks, which we hear and see most days, and grey squirrels, which are ubiquitous in the extreme, there's been little to note, though the gulls, which are always present but which fly so high they're seldom on my radar unless they're mobbing predators, have been a lot noisier than usual these last couple of weeks. 

And of course there's the aforementioned Cwtch, who might count as fauna, I suppose. She's certainly attempting to interact with some down that hole.

The hollowing oak has changed too, losing the last of its leaves. I realised a few weeks back that it features on the 1844 - 1888 OS map on the Know Your Place website, so it must have been a noteworthy tree even then.

And of all changeable things, the weather is most, from frost and ice and residual snow ... 

 ... to wind ... 

... and some welcome sun.

Strangely, there was no one standing to my left when this photo was taken ... 

... though here you can jut see Cwtch at my right.

And more than any other sort of weather, there has been rain, characterised first by stormy skies ...

... which then turn dreary and grey as soon as the precipitation starts. 

It's rained so much that the ditch is a winterbourne with a current ... 

... and even the badger path is flowing.

As for the formerly helpful step in the kissing gate out on the farmland, it's now a lot more precarious in its broken state. (More change.)

In fact, it's been so wet, the golf course was closed for a couple of days over New Year, which was doubtless a disappointment for the golfers, but lovely for us, as it meant we could have a wander without the risk of being brained by a golf ball. (Most golfers we've encountered are pretty friendly, but we've had balls hit at us even when crossing the course on the footpath.)

Here, in addition to the landfill at the northern end of the course, and the new pitch and putt, work on which seems to have stalled, there is yet more change around the two largest ponds. The Northerner had warned me, when I was laid up with a sprained ankle back in October, that both ponds at the top of the course had been fenced off, but this was the first opportunity I'd had of seeing the work for myself.

Of course it's impossible to guess what the plan is, without being in the know, but lots of the vegetation has been cut back around this, the smaller pond, and some youngish trees felled, which is a shame, given the ponds form one of the more biodiverse areas of the course. Here's how it is now vs how it looked in July of last year. 

Meanwhile, it looks like the larger, very shallow pond is being made deeper, with an island, which is funny because a golf club member, who's also a dog walker, told me a while back that the management had originally intended to drain it and establish a green there, and capped the spring feeding it in readiness, only for the level of Henleaze Lake, a couple of miles away, to drop dramatically, much to the consternation of the swimmers, therefore requiring a change of plan. Here's how it looks now and back in September 2021, when it was a large muddy hollow, and I walked right through it among the reedmace and loosestrife, fleabane and Michaelmas daisies. 

Right at the bottom of the course, where she first learnt that ice melts and water doesn't support even the weight of a small pup, Cwtch eyes the potential for a wetting with suspicion. She might take a sip but nothing will induce her to dampen even a paw. The change from warm fur to sodden is not one she'll entertain.