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Bristol , United Kingdom
Poet and poetry facilitator. Neurodishevelled. My sixth poetry collection, Love the Albatross, is available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.
Showing posts with label Narnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Narnia. 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. 



Wednesday, 16 January 2019

In the Wars

Border collies are intelligent dogs. Ted's area of special interest is the English Civil Wars, so as we were once more in the Stapleton area of Bristol, we decided to put the Brexit  omnishambles behind us and visit nearby Wickham Court, which has a connection with Old Ironsides himself, Oliver Cromwell. 


Walking down Wickham Glen is like entering into Narnia, which, at the start of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, was enduring its own civil war. 


Ted has a lamentable lack of respect for literature. 


We crossed Wickham Bridge again ... 


... but this time climbed the lane that led away from the river and behind the allotments. 

It felt dark today, like the light had gone out.


Wickham Court is not the ancestral home of Heydon and Boleyn families since the 15th century, and definitely wasn't the backdrop to King Henry VIII's courtship of the enchanting Anne Boleyn, oh no; that's another Wickham Court in Kent. 


This Wickham Court is reputedly where Oliver Cromwell held a council of war with General Sir Thomas Fairfax in 1645, on the eve of the 11th September attack on Bristol, which resulted in weeks of fighting, hundreds of dead and the end of one of the longest sieges of the Civil Wars. 


The house itself does a nice line in curly-handled window catches.




Hang on, I thought Cromwell cancelled Christmas? 

(Or was that Alan Rickman?) 

We climbed onto the hill behind the Court. On the skyline, the Church of the Holy Trinity ... 




... and, higher and farther away, the mast on Purdown.

As we descended to the river through the woods, my thoughts returned to another civil war, and the country being driven off a cliff by the Tories.


The lack of certainty is unsettling. It felt like even the trees were watching and waiting.