October woods

Monday was glorious - after days of rain we were treated to a balmy remnant of summer and despite suffering yet another cold I felt drawn to the woods as if seeking sanctuary there.

All manner of insects had emerged to enjoy this treat - from little red ladybirds zooming furiously about, like small red flying machines, to a large bumble bee queen clumsily bustling hither and thither; she was over an inch in length and making her presence felt. I was headed to the central beech grove where I knew I would find many toadstools - sadly several had been kicked over (a personal bete noire of mine).

These rather ugly specimens are, I think, 'Charcoal Burners' which vary in colour - I didn't think to rub them at the time, which would have been the give away as the skin is greasy to the touch.

These are new to me - Velvet Shanks - I didn't discover until later that they are edible, though the rather slimy coating is a little off putting.

This was a great natural composition, the trio of Panther Caps - with a little flash of violet behind the far left hand one -

Which was a pair of pretty tiny Amethyst Deceivers next door to an even smaller unidentified toadstool.

As is this one; I trawled my fungi guides but could not find it. The cap was a magnificent 6 inches wide.

Now that autumn is falling upon us, the woods take on a witchy, tangled atmosphere. I startled a Muntjac deer somewhere in this density, which began barking a loud alarm call. It would only have be the size of a small dog - knee high - but it sounds like a creature three times it's size.

Another Panther Cap - pleasing to look at, but very poisonous. They are commonly confused with Blushers, which are technically edible, but the two are so similar I would not risk it. The Panther Cap is much darker and it's stipe (stem) remains white when broken...

...while the Blusher is a pretty apricot-buff colour with a stipe that tinges pink when damaged, hence the name.

Towards the end of my walk I found this pretty theatrical scene, a setting for a fairytale, the spotlight of sun just waiting for some one's grand entrance and the fungus nestling in the tree roots like an elaborate stage piece.

Only two hours of rambling around, alone in the woods and when I emerged the sun was still hot.

Waiting for me quietly in the hedge, was Marjorie, my new travelling companion. If you read my other blog, then you might know that poor old Hercules, my trusty bone shaker who has featured in so many of my blog posts here, came to an ignoble end and is in retirement. But I can certainly go faster and further with young Marjorie - and yes, she is firmly locked to the fence.

ADDITIONAL NOTE - I am merely a hobby fungus spotter, my identifications are not to be taken as expert opinion and I am always happy to be put right. Do use a good fungus guide relevant to your part of the world if you want to be certain of anything.

Cotswold clouds

The other evening, Andy returned from work and immediately whisked me off on the motorbike (I just had time to grab my camera and helmet). Apparently the views up on the Shipton Downs, a five minute drive away at the top of a long, wide hill, were spectacular. And so they were. Here we had a 180 degree panoramic view of the Cotswolds and the amazing cloud spectacle on display.

This next picture is not very remarkable, but if you look right through to the back, you can see a faraway sunlight hill with deep shadowed runnels. This is the Uffington White Horse in the next county, Wiltshire, which I mentioned in my previous post.

I pushed my zoom as far it it would go, to see if I could pick up the white horse itself. I just about managed it, though the picture quality is poor. It is that little pale wormy thing scriggling down the hillside, just above the two fence posts in the foreground. It is actually about 23 miles away, so to be able to see it with the naked eye (or at least, a camera) is credit to our ancient ancestors who created it.

Back to breathtaking views - and clouds.

This is the crossroads we stand at, when we want to survey our kingdom. The bench is a recent addition, to the memory of a local man.

All around us we could see isolated cloudbursts, this one looked particularly heavy, a white stream plunging down into the land.

On the way home, we found another side of it. Here we were standing in bright, hot evening sunshine and somewhere over there, no doubt other people were wondering if it was monsoon season.

One final gorgeous scene, harvest stacks and, somewhere flying low to the horizon, three crows.

White horse at Pewsey Downs 25/7/10

As usual I have kept all pictures to a decent size, so do click for more detail.

It has been such a long time since we were able to get out for a walk; I have been tied to my painting board with another deadline and am only just getting back into the swing of things now that I am free. But our last walk, at the end of July, was a wonderful day spent on the Pewsey Downs, in nearby Wiltshire, one of my favourite counties; although it is technically *Cotswolds*, it has a very different feel.

Here the landscape spreads before you with a swan-like grace. The chalk downs and broad, open skies are windswept and airy - a clean atmosphere that leaves the walker refreshed and gasping for more.

We are climbing up to the Pewsey white horse, cut into the chalk hillside, starting a long circular walk that will take several hours, approaching the horse from the left. Unlike the ancient Uffington white horse, it is a modern monument, dating back to 1937, though it replaced an earlier one which dated from the late 1700s. It stands cheek by jowl with a proper earth antiquity, the Iron Age barrow 'Adams Grave' which we bypassed, as it was crawling with Other People. (Don't worry, we will pop in on the way back when it is less occupied). We headed for the horse, and searched for a quiet picnic spot.

I know of few better places to eat al fresco than high up on the Downs overlooking the Pewsey Vale - the earth seems to go on forever.

Far below us we were amused to see the throngs milling about a famous *magical* Wiltshire crop circle - beyond nestles the village where our next stopping point, the Barge Inn beckons - that is the largish building with two chimneys, at about one o'clock in the distance. There is a better picture of the crop circle here.

Full of baguette, pork pies, boiled egg and cake, we set off past the horse, just seen cut off here, sloping to the left.

Now we are going down the hill, towards the bright green patch in the middle of fields where the farmer is combining in his rapeseed crop.

The dry, shallow earth is covered with tiny, jewel-like wild flowers and herbs, where butterflies and insects enjoy a sadly rare rich habitat.

Here we are right down in the Vale, looking back to the white horse just up there on the hill, where we had our picnic. And there goes the combine harvester.

Down here the colours seem flattened, although the clouds still sail gloriously across the big sky.

White horse now just to the right edge.

Soon we are in the pretty village of Pewsey, walking on towards the canal.

Seen here from the bridge, the trail takes us down to the footpath which runs alongside the canal.

We don't lose sight of the white horse - there it is, just through the hedgerow.

And again, faintly behind this barge, on the hilltop beyond.

Nearly time for a pint, and I fall in love with this big Dutch barge - surely enough room in there for us, four cats, several thousand books and various gubbins? Andy thinks not.

The Barge is one of my favourite pubs; it has an relaxed, easy atmosphere, much loved by bikers, bargees, travellers and anyone who appreciates tolerance and informality. The beer is excellent too.

I could have sat there all afternoon, but there are a few miles to cover yet and we carry on along the towpath. Andy speeds ahead to the red brick bridge which we ascend to, to begin closing the circle.

A bit of road walking here and still the horse remains the pivot of our walk.

We find a poor dead dragonfly and it is secreted away in a picnic box - dragonflies preserve very well and dried out, make sweetly macabre ornaments.

Off the road and past more cottages, to the start of our return.

Almost time to begin the big climb up to the long barrow up there.

Not only the chalk horse here, (just visible on the horizon) but three real ones too.

The route to the summit of Adam's Grave long barrow is long, slow and a bit of a slog, especially after the miles behind us.

But the views are quite glorious. The sun has vanished and so have the tourists. A chilly wind sweeps the wild grasses as evening descends and still we hear the soft drone of combine harvesters bringing in the crops.

Andy has got ahead of me again and is a tiny speck atop the hummock.

Eventually, I get there too.

The sun comes out for a last burst, as we head back towards the motorbike, weary in leg, refreshed in spirit.