Yet another vid of the silver birch outside my kitchen window.
Home to puffy winter clouds, twittery star lings, and a little blue lagoon of sky.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Trees
Winter Birch Cloud Starlings
Another film of the silver birch outside my kitchen window.
Starlings hop in, hop on, hop off.
And marvelous clouds of skies pass through the silvery branches.
Light shimmers.
Dusk sets sun into winter cold red skies around, and through, and beyond, the birch.
It’s something I never want to get tired of.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Autumn Leaving
Scuffling about the autumn leaves nr Maidencombe beach and Tessier Gardens.
With the Sunday sun doing a great job of lighting up the flittering trees.
Beneath the thunderstruck Ash
We’re waiting for the sun to move across towards the little pond.
Waiting. Listening. Calming.
Against this thunderstruck ash.
It’s peaceful here isn’t it Haze?
On this ‘halcyon’ Sunday morning.
Stood here restful. What could be easier.
Waiting for a certain southern hawker dragonfly lady to turn up.
Hope she keeps her appointment.
Words & Photo’s: Ian Nisbet
Delightfulness: Hazel Brown
Peace & Tranquility: Tessier Gardens
Walking to Wistmans Wood
We are walking towards Wistmans Wood this Saturday afternoon.
It’s that little dark green patch directly ahead, under the horizon.
We’re stumbling our way into the “most haunted place on Dartmoor”, plonking down on a flat slab of rock to eat our bacon sandwiches, – and are promptly descended upon, and being bitten by, hundreds of midges.
Gotta get out – quick!
Find another big slab of rock outside the reach of those blood-thirsty midges
Finishing off lunch (rather than be lunch) without them bitey bleeders.
We’re returning back into the woods to try our luck again.
And now Haze is drawing
This tree, a quick sketch (the midges still biting)
Haze wants to include this:
“A little memoir of my favourite wood…On entering it’s puzzlepathway of stones upholstered in a soaking soft covering of moss and lichens, this tiny ancient wood, sprouting ferns, with a canopy of new summer leaves ..still whispers strange tales of those Whisht hounds..of Faerie Folk, Elves and Spriggans!”
And I’ve made this little vid (it’s got a soldier beetle, midges, Haze leaving a blessing)
I didn’t pick up much of the elemental ‘spirit of place’ – it felt more like somewhere to walk your dog, while chattering about Star Trek.
Too many of us people infiltrating, and contaminated, the ‘sacred grove’ with our human noise.
Legend has it that Wistmans Woods is haunted by ‘diabolical Whist Hounds’
Well, here the Hounds were.
Being distinctly diabolical. This woman (Dutch) can hardly hold on to her 3 ‘wolf-hounds’
If they’d tugged her off that leash – they’d have been off
Chasing after, and killing, sheep, terrorizing cows.
(Did I say ‘Diabolical’? I meant, ‘Ridiculous’!)
My advice to anyone wanting to visit Wistmans Wood?
Don’t go when any of us humans are around! With our dogs.
Douse yourself in citronella. Munch garlic. Be midge repellent!
Under The Tall Beeches
As an interlude from whizzy flying machines we nipped over to Compton Castle for a quiet hour.
It was closed. Not open to weekend visitors. Therefore: lets stroll around the side and up a shady secluded path to where a dozen Tall Beeches are.
‘You are very privileged to come here’ says Haze .’You are the only person that’s shared with me this special faerie place’
The tall beeches are mightily impressive. So straight, so steadfast, so strong. Nothing will bring them down. They’ll be stood here for 5 or 10 centuries more.
Their rooty nobbles are grooting out of the edge of the bank. I can see where Haze has got the inspiration for some of those faerie drawings she did (back in the olden days).
See if you can see what might be knotted together in these rooty gnarls. I could. I can.
Ring on the Hill
On Sunday afternoon we’ve climbed up to an enclosed ring of trees above Berry Pomeroy.
The inspiration for Hazels Giant on the Hill painting (from many moons ago).
We’re trying to find out what this ring of trees is called, and what it might have been. An ancient settlement or hill fort perhaps.
That ewe was packed with wool; could hardly walk, needs a haircut – sharpish!
