Constellations in the Woods

The meadow and wood and Charlton Common has been a godsend during this time but sometimes you need bluebells. So we went to Purdown and walked Long Wood and Hermitage Wood and Barn Wood in search of some. 

There were wood anemones too.

And celandines.

And owls.

The arch between Long Wood and Hermitage Wood

Lady Elizabeth Somerset's obelisk. She died aged 18 in 1760. She did not - repeat, did not - fall off her horse, contrary to what most Bristolians and Wikipedia will tell you. 

Cwtch has heard stories of her predecessor, Ted, jumping in the pond after ducks. (It's now a dog-free zone.) 

The Dower House

Duchess Lake and Stapleton beyond

There was a poignant moment on the way back to the car. A year and a week separates these photos. Same cherry tree, a slightly later, slightly cooler spring, a different stage of lockdown, a different dog.

And then, because we needed starry wild garlic, we went to Badock's Wood ...  

The bronze age round barrow

The River Trym

... but it's not fully blossoming yet, or at least wasn't when were there. Maybe we'll go back. 

Purdown At The Turn Of The Year

I intended to get up early today and walk in the frost on Purdown but I was so tired from my round trips on successive days to Leeds and High Wycombe that I lay awake most of the night, at least until the wrong end of it when I fell violently asleep. So by the time we'd breakfasted, all the frost had melted.

Well, that's not strictly true.  There were some pockets of ice. 

But most of the glory lay in sunlit views that ultimately foundered in the mist of a short-lived day. 

'And trees to pee on,' said Ted.

I didn't expect to see a gnat dance but I'm not really surprised, it was all so beautiful. 

Looking up the Frome Valley. And Ted.  

 

 The ice-age torrent turned to traffic. 

  

Then the moon rose, half full. 

  

New (to me) graffiti on the remains of the heavy anti-aircraft gun battery where Purdown Percy once defended the city from Nazi bombs.

 

 

When I loaded my photos onto my laptop, I found some from yesterday morning, when I was setting off up the M4 with two Jennies in the car, so I had my frisson of ice after all.  A beautiful end to the year. 

High Summer on Purdown

My definition of high summer is when much of the vegetation is higher than me, which is generally about now.  This is how it looked on Purdown this morning.

Sadly, the work commitment which sees me with an hour to kill in the area of Purdown twice a month is coming to an end after more than two years, and although I know it's not that far from where I live, I suspect I shan't come here anywhere near as often once my routine changes.  

I decided to take lots of photos of its high summer splendour but Ted kept getting in the way ... 

... as in this study of chiaroscuro.  

And this one. 

Good, he's gone.  

Let's try the same trick with teasels.

And here's Duchess Lake looking very peaceful ... 

Hang on, where's Ted?  

Oh no ... through the gate and herding ducks! Underwater!  

(No photos at this point on account of having to retrieve criminal dog under the affronted glare of a sunbather ... ) 

NB. No ducks were harmed in the making of this blog. Just ruffled up a bit.

Ash tree with rosebay willowherb in the background and thistles to the fore

Vetch and a scribble of dry grass

Back past the lake. (Headcollar time.)

Nettles doing a  monochrome Jackson Pollock  (Green Poles!) 

It doesn't matter how often I remind myself that I loathe Georgian architecture ... and that although turmeric is a versatile spice with health-promoting properties, the colour is vile and never more so than when painted on an ugly bit of Georgian architecture perched on a hill ... and that actually the nearby M32 - far from being an ice-age torrent - is intrusively loud ...  

... I shall miss my barometer of the changing seasons.