Feeling sinister

Posted on February 6, 2015 by Becca

At the time of writing this blog entry, I am in sinister mode… In the sense that I am largely left-handed, owing to having fractured my right wrist! This was something of a surprise to me, because I actually did the damage at the end of December (when I elegantly toppled sideways off my bicycle on an icy towpath during a frosty winter ride). Being an old school stiff-upper-lip British stoic, at the time I sprang nimbly back to my feet and cycled on homewards, with only an aching shoulder for a few days afterwards as a memento. But while driving to teach at a London school three weeks later, my right wrist started to ache. Luckily I have a GP who is excellent at injuries and it took him all of two seconds of prodding to diagnose a suspected fracture of the scaphoid bone… Which an x-ray at Newbury hospital later confirmed.

Having not even heard of the scaphoid bone before, I was somewhat dubious about the need for wearing a splint, particularly as I’d been carrying on as normal for the best part of a month after my bike accident. But it turns out that this little cashew nut-shaped bone (located at the base of the thumb where it joins the wrist) is annoyingly tricky to heal once you’ve damaged it. Hence the fetching velcro and metal splint which I currently have to wear all day. If all goes well I should be healed and splint-free within a few weeks: in the meantime as I can neither cycle nor drive, I’m doing a lot of walking. I’m keeping my fingers crossed (on my left hand, anyway) that there will be no complications, so I can return to normal functioning by the time my busy teaching season starts in early March.

Fortunately I’ve had good things happening in January too. I belong to the Natural Voice Practitioners’ Network, an organisation for singing teachers, choir leaders and voice workers. In early January the NVPN holds its annual gathering, which usually takes place at Wortley Hall near Sheffield (see one of my earlier blog posts, Digging ponds and singing songs for an account of my visit to Wortley Hall in 2013). However, the NVPN membership has grown in recent years to such an extent that the main gathering was oversubscribed and a ‘mini gathering’ was organised for those of us who left it too late to book for Wortley. The venue for this smaller gathering was the beautiful Elizabethan Kinnersley Castle in Herefordshire.

Kinnersley Castle is still a family home, which can be hired as a venue for events. It is full of character – I was chuffed on reaching my room to find I would be sleeping in a four-poster bed! Our meals were home-cooked and plentiful, and the hospitality from hostess and NVPN member Katherina Garratt-Adams was warm and welcoming. The space that we used for our singing workshops and group sessions had a huge fireplace with a log fire that we all took turns toasting ourselves in front of (including Coco, Katherina’s friendly black labrador).

I always get a huge amount from these NVPN gatherings: not just song material for teaching with Sing The World, the Newbury-based choir that I co-lead, but also lots of useful ideas and guidance for all the issues involved in being a singing teacher. Having suffered from laryngitis and lost my voice completely back in September, I found the sessions on looking after our voices and developing our singing range particularly helpful. The NVPN largely follows a community of practice model for sharing expertise, which is an extremely effective way to support our professional development.

Staying at Kinnersley Castle was a fantastic experience and a great way to ease back into the working year after the festive break. It’s a venue with tons of character and welcoming hosts (including the lovely Katherina and Caius, pictured above).

Chilly winter weather doesn’t generally stop me from going exploring. We’ve had some glorious bright sunny midwinter days and I took advantage of one to go for a walk with my friend Will along the downs in the Vale of Pewsey. It was a route we hadn’t done before, up onto the Tan Hill Way and then round Gopher Wood and Oare Hill, finishing with a loop over Giant’s Grave, an Iron Age hillfort and settlement.

We were glad that we had done our route in a clockwise direction, as the final descent from Giant’s Grave down into the village of Oare was precipitous enough that I had to run down it with my arms outstretched and making whooping noises. (A vital strategy for obtaining maximum speed with the minimum of risk to myself or other walkers coming from the opposite direction.)

There is something about sunshine in the depths of winter that is particularly restorative, even in the Arctic winds that were blowing that day. And the landscape of chalk downland always holds a special magic for me, growing up as I did in the Chilterns. The walk route around Oare is one I will definitely revisit, perhaps in early summer when orchids may be about. Even in early January it was beautiful, with red kites and buzzards wheeling on the wind currents high above the hills.

Winter can feel like a bit of a miserable time, especially if the weather is wet and grey. Fortunately there are opportunities to dispel the darkness: Newbury hosts an annual Festival Of Light, a midwinter celebration where locals make lanterns from willow and tissue before joining together in a parade through the town. There were lanterns of all shapes and designs, including stars, fish, boats, spaceships and even a dalek and a Darth Vader! At the end of the parade there were hot chestnut sellers, brightly-burning braziers to warm your hands at and a lively band to keep everyone warm. There was a great energy there, definitely an inspired way to ward off the winter blues.

Another winter event which got people together was the Thousand Voices evening. Local choirs (including Wacapella, our Sing The World performance group) sang separately at various locations across Newbury town centre, before joining together by the Christmas tree in the market place for a mass sing. It was great fun to take part… I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard The Twelve Days Of Christmas sung quite so loudly before!

In contrast to the gloomy and soggy winter of 2013/2014, December and January have brought a good share of bright days, perfect for getting out and about in. In mid-January I went for a walk across Snelsmore Common, a nature reserve on the edge of Newbury now managed by local wildlife trust BBOWT. This is a site both popular with locals and rich in wildlife and interesting habitats (including bogs with carnivorous plants known as sundews). Going back over a decade, I lived up a tree at Snelsmore for a short time, along with a host of other hardy souls seeking to prevent the dreaded Newbury Bypass from being constructed. The Newbury Bypass protest is well remembered by locals, whether or not they were involved in either the activism or the road building. I lost my heart to this lovely stretch of ancient woodland and like many of my friends it was gut-wrenching to be there when the bailiffs and bulldozers finally rolled in and destroyed a swathe of this amazing place forever.

Happily, activism and opposition to environmental destruction and social injustice is still going strong in the UK. As the media and political parties crank up their apparatus for the General Election campaigning season we’ll no doubt have more coverage than we want of democracy in action… But mindful of what’s going down in other areas of the world (Ukraine and Russia, for instance) it’s a good time to remember that we’re lucky to have a democratic system at all, flawed though it is. Being something of an anarchist/libertarian I’m not a huge fan of our current set-up, but I’ll certainly be voting on election day. The good news is that the Green Party is fielding candidates in every ward of Berkshire, which at least gives me an opportunity to vote for someone whose politics reflect my own interests. And for those who say that voting for the Green Party is a wasted vote because it will allow the Tories back in, my considered response is: thhhbbppppt. *blows raspberry*

There is a lot of brouhaha written and said these days about non-participation in democracy. Personally I think there is just as much radicalism and engagement as there ever was; it’s just that people have many more ways to express how they wish their locality and country should be run. Also the majority of us seem to be utterly unimpressed by the posturing of politicians and the ponderous workings of government, which these days looks increasingly like an old boys’ club of ex-Eton pupils.

If as some pundits seem to think our political system is in the throes of change, it may not be a bad thing. (It’s worrying that a few folks seem to think that UKIP is an answer, but I suppose all those sulking ex-Tories had to go somewhere.) My response to all of this is to get back into activism, so I will be going to the Time To Act climate change march in London on Saturday 7th March. The climate change debate continues but it’s evident that we can’t go on living as if we had a spare planet as well as this one, so why not come along too and make some noise in London this spring – if only to communicate to those currently hitting the political campaign trail that the environment is not only the concern of a minority bunch of tree huggers.

Rather than finish on a strident note, I will end this blog entry with a photo of a particularly magnificent winter sunrise. I never stop being grateful for this world in which I live… That’s kind of why I feel compelled to look after it.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed the day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

– ‘What A Wonderful World’
Bob Thiele & George David Weiss

What I did in my holidays… and the rest of the time

Posted on December 6, 2014 by Becca

It’s been quite a while since I last updated this blog (life having been somewhat hectic). But as midwinter approaches and the cold and dark are really strengthening their hold, reflecting back on my summer and autumn adventures is a nice way to pass the time.

As my environmental education work is at its busiest in school term time (particularly the spring and summer terms), usually by the time the summer holidays finally arrive I am more than ready for a break and this year was no exception. Which is not to say that I didn’t have some good times teaching visiting school groups at Rushall Organic Farm, as well. 2014 has been a very busy year at the farm, with more schoolchildren than ever visiting to spend the day learning about farming, habitats, wildlife, soils and rivers. Starting of course in early spring with lambing.

Despite a very wet winter which created havoc for British farmers everywhere, lambing itself went well at Rushall this year: a welcome change after the bitterly cold spring of 2013 when we lost 15% of our lambs due to the cold weather.

Once lambing was over we were still very busy with school visits, including the residential camps where children come and stay in tents at the farm for several days. I really enjoy working with the kids on the camps: you get to know the children and see them develop over the week as they try their hand at activities ranging from den building and camp fires to sheep herding and river dipping. Many of them have never done adventurous outdoor things before and it’s fantastic to see them expanding their boundaries. The teachers often tell us that the Rushall Farm trip is a highlight in many of their pupils’ lives… It’s hard not to be moved by this. It makes the long hours and busy summer term truly worthwhile.

It’s been a year of big change at Rushall Farm, with longstanding farm manager John retiring this autumn and former shepherd Steve stepping up as our new farm manager. The farm will continue to have sheep and cattle and some arable land, including the areas that are managed under the Higher Level Stewardship (HLS) farming scheme to support the wildlife that is such a vital part of our ecosystems and landscapes. Both the HLS and the fact that Rushall is organically managed means that the farm is rich in wildlife… I feel very lucky to work on such a special site. Walking through one of our arable fields this summer with groups of children, we were surrounded by poppies. Such an beautiful sight, and a rare one these days.

Towards the end of the school term when I had a bit more liberty, I lost no time in escaping to the seaside (my usual default getaway) for a long weekend in Lyme Regis. This part of western Dorset, named the Jurassic Coast for its wealth of fossils, contains the Undercliffs National Nature Reserve. This 7-mile stretch of rugged and shifting landscape between Lyme Regis and Axmouth is one of my favourite walks, although it can be challenging in places… as this cheerful warning sign at its eastern end suggests.

The coastal path which traverses the Undercliff is challenging in places: particularly so this summer, because a substantial landslip back in the spring made a section of the route impassable. (There is a detour inland if you want to continue west past Culverhole Point, but it looked a tedious trek so rather than bothering with it I just walked a few miles along the section that can still be safely walked.) Even this path is not for the faint-hearted, however. While I was enjoying the view at the start of the path I was overtaken by a large group of walkers… only to meet them returning later on, with complaints of “The path gets terrible a bit further on – we kept falling over.” I like a challenge, though, so I kept on going. The scenery and amazing wildlife made it worth it: this National Nature Reserve is an absolute jewel.

As it was a fairly muggy day with thunder occasionally rumbling overhead, I didn’t meet many other walkers. In the humid heat, surrounded by dense woodland and ferns, it felt about as close to a rainforest experience as you can get in Britain. Every so often though you come upon reminders that although this is a wild landscape, it has also been a settled one: ruins crumbling away amongst the undergrowth, abandoned houses or farm buildings dating from before the great 1839 Bindon Landslip when a huge slab of land known locally as Goat Island simply detached itself one night and rumbled seawards.

One of the quirks of the Undercliff is that although the path skirts the coast and you can often hear and sometimes view the sea from it, actually descending down the unstable cliff face onto the beach is not an easy task. There are stern signs that threaten all manner of dire fates should you try to do so. So you really, really shouldn’t. It’s naughty and wicked, and the Landslip Goblins will swallow you whole if you do it. (Probably.)

Of course not being a naughty wicked trespasser (perish the thought), I skirted the Landslip Goblins and skipped down a safer route. Once on the beach I eventually reached a spot where you can look up to see where the forces of modern coastal path engineering were confronted by the playful forces of Mother Nature… And have been utterfly vanquished. The winter rains have made the Undercliff even more lively than usual, and the last few hundred yards of that particular path resemble not so much a route as a demolition site. “Subject to movement” is a bit of an understatement: in the UK we often forget that the ground under our feet is a dynamic thing, but seeing landslips like this one remind you of the power of natural forces. Score: Mother Nature 1, Feeble Humans nil. The Landslip Goblins will get you if you dare to venture where you shouldn’t…

Keeping a weather eye on the cliff to make sure that no landslip was currently about to manifest itself, I enjoyed a few hours of leisurely beach-combing. It was worth the effort: by now the thunderstorms had rumbled off elsewhere and it turned into a sunny afternoon. I had pretty much the whole beach to myself (except for a solitary couple who had evidently braved the Path Of Doom and then pottered off eastwards to find their own bit of beach). Left to myself in one of the most gorgeous bits of the Jurassic Coast, I rewarded my efforts with a picnic and a spot of beach art, creating a yin-yang symbol from pebbles and seaweed. Not exactly Andy Goldsworthy, but I enjoyed doing it anyway.

In early August I took some time away from west Berkshire to go to Unicorn Voice Camp, an annual week-long singing camp on the Somerset-Wiltshire border. It was my third Voice Camp and as ever an utter treat for the ears, the voice and the soul: around 400 people gathering together to sing and teach music from a wealth of cultures. One evening a young chap called Matt played his hang for some of us in the big yurt onsite, and it was simply bliss. (If you don’t know what a hang is, check out this video on YouTube.) Unicorn campers (as the name probably suggests) are a creative and mellow lot, I always come away with my energies recharged and a heart full of gorgeous harmonies that I can share with the Sing The World choir that I co-lead in Newbury.

The emphasis at the camp is on authenticity, support and celebration of all things creative and spiritual. There is a also a stonking cabaret (LMAO, as I believe the young folks say), a cafe that serves divine cake, and shared meals round your campfire each night. There is singing absolutely everywhere: barbershop harmony, nightingale-voiced teenagers dueting with guitarists, medieval choral music, African melodies and rhythms, Romany songs, gospel, folk, jazz, and all kinds of stunning original harmony compositions shared by the many talented singers and teachers who go to Voice Camp. It’s a very special musical gathering and long may it continue.

Of course I didn’t spend the whole summer playing: I was also running activity sessions for families at Five A Day Market Garden in Englefield. These half-day sessions were popular and I spent several mornings and afternoons outdoors with kids and their parents, discovering minibeasts and pond life and making all manner of amazing eco art creations… Like this lovely clay and sage leaf snake made by one young lad!

When funding allows it, I run these family sessions in most school holidays. We had some pumpkin carving workshops in the October half term which were also hugely popular, and another family workshop (Crafty Christmas) is scheduled for 20th December. It’s great to see all ages of children having fun and getting messy together, and the parents seem to enjoy it as much as the kids! We certainly had some awesome pumpkin lanterns carved.

Towards the end of August I had one more treat: or more properly, RE-treat: a week away at the Barn Buddhist retreat centre, at The Sharpham Trust near Totnes in Devon. Although I’ve been meditating now for several years I had never been on a retreat before and I wasn’t sure how it would go. Rather wonderfully, as it turned out.

Rising at 6.45am and spending two hours or more in meditation every day may not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but you soon settle into it. The retreats at the Barn are based on Buddhist traditions but are non-denominational: anyone can stay, for a week or for longer. Time is divided between mindful tasks (such as working in the organic veg garden and woodland), meditation, and afternoons free for personal practice or simply walking in the surrounding Devon countryside. Silence is held from 9pm each evening to 9am the following morning and there is also one day of complete silence. What impressed itself on me was the absolute peacefulness of the place: both the Barn itself, and its setting on a hillside overlooking the River Dart.

People go on retreats for different reasons. I was basically there to see how it felt, removing myself from the pressures of work and busy everyday life; and also to try to deepen my meditation practice. What I found after a few days of mindfulness and quiet was that so much of what I think is necessary in my life (internet, books, radio, emails) actually isn’t. Having something purposeful to do; taking time to appreciate nature and peace; connecting with other people; savouring every moment of life mindfully; these are more than enough.

Buddhism is a spiritual path sometimes perceived as being rather detached from the world, somewhat devoid of emotion or passion. I find the contrary: it promotes meaningful and intense connection with all of the universe, including the people around us, and an approach to life based on love, kindness, gratitude and patience. (And with a great deal of humour, as anyone who has read Zen Flesh, Zen Bones will know.) I’m by no means an expert but I’m finding it a rewarding exploration. And my retreat at the Barn was a life-changing event, on several levels. I’ve yet to completely work out what seeds were sowed in me while I was there, but they’re definitely germinating.

The most difficult thing about going on retreat was leaving: adjusting back to the ‘normal’ world is a process that takes a little while. I softened the blow by day-tripping Scabbacombe Sands, a little cove near Dartmouth. You can only get down to this lovely beach by walking (a good thirty minutes or so) and the path is pretty steep, so that weeds out the throngs of day-trippers.

Once I got down to sea level I treated myself to a picnic: after leaving the Barn retreat I popped into Totnes to buy picnic supplies, which was entertaining. Totnes is crammed with alternative folks of all sorts (popular rumour has it that the town’s sign once had ‘Totnes: twinned with Narnia’ graffitied onto it) so ‘artisanal’ foods are readily available. Not being made of money I settled for a massive slab of olive bread, some nommy local-grown tomatoes and a pot of wonderfully garlicky guacamole. Nicely washed down with a flask of lapsang souchong tea I’d made myself, before leaving the Barn. Not exactly traditional seaside holiday fare but it hit the spot all right.

I could’ve quite happily stayed until nightfall at Scabbacombe. The sun shone, I paddled in the sea, and all was well with the world. It probably helped that I’d been on a retreat for the past week as well: daily mindfulness practice had switched on all my senses, and for hours I happily sat or pottered about on this beautiful little beach. (Note in the photo below the purple nail polish – a present from a friend at Voice Camp!)

It was good to have some quality get-aways during the summer, after all the hecticness of teaching. Once the schools started back again in September I was busy again, although getting hit by a succession of viruses was somewhat challenging… Especially laryngitis: not a great thing to succumb to when your work is teaching and singing! Fortunately by mid-October I had got enough voice back to run my Songs From The Heart singing workshop, at the lovely converted barn at Elm Farm Organic Research Centre just outside Newbury. It was a fabulous day, with around forty people coming along to sing in harmony together. I was able to share some of the lovely songs I’d learned at Voice Camp, and the feedback from participants at the end of the day was really heart-warming.

I’m starting to be able to give more time to my singing work, which is wonderful: I would like to run more singing workshops for groups. At Voice Camp I went to a series of sessions led by the super-talented and lovely Susie Ro Prater, which got me thinking about how I can compose more of my own a capella harmony songs. And recently I also had an opportunity to sing with a jazz guitarist at Newbury Unplugged (our local monthly open mic night at Ace Space), so music-wise things are expanding for me at the moment. Long may this state of affairs continue.

As winter deepens, my outdoor teaching work has come to its usual seasonal standstill, so all being well I should have some time to spend on developing my singing and other creative pursuits. Sing The World’s ‘peformance group’, Wacapella, is performing as part of the ‘1,000 Voices‘ winter singing event in Newbury on 11th December, so I’m looking forward to that. And on clear frosty days I’ll be getting out and about in the countryside, going for walks and getting some much-needed winter sunshine. During the autumn I carried out some dormouse surveys for local wildlife trust BBOWT, and during one woodland survey came across an absolutely stunning frog. I hope to see lots more wildlife as I ramble across the downs and valleys over the next few weeks. Wishing you all a healthy, peaceful and happy festive season!

Frog in the woods: Peckmoor Copse, Greenham Common.

Not months but moments

Posted on August 6, 2013 by Becca

‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’
– Rabindranath Tagore

I start this blog entry with the above quote for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that time recently has seemed in short supply. Summer term is always busy for me on the field teaching front, and in June and July I worked several fifty-hour weeks. At the time it seemed like a good idea… And I certainly enjoyed the teaching. But working silly hours catches up with you: and lo and behold, I am now feeling thoroughly frazzled.

As this is self-inflicted suffering, I’m not asking for sympathy. It’s taken me a fortnight of not teaching to realise just how ‘busy’ I allowed my life to become. While it’s always nice to be working (paying the monthly bills being the tiresomely necessary process it is), like other members of my family I have a tendency to be a workaholic. This is promoted by the fact that I do work that is generally fulfilling and positive – i.e. environmental education, wildlife conservation, and teaching singing in groups.

One remedy for this is to get away for a bit. Luckily, I’d arranged some weeks ago to go on a camping weekend with some friends in the Cotswold countryside. A group of us stayed at a peaceful campsite on an organic farm near Stroud. The weather was glorious, the people in our group lovely, and I did manage to defrag my hard drive somewhat.

About half an hour’s walk from the campsite, through some National Trust woodland, is a beautiful lake fringed with water lilies and humming with blue damselflies. Several of us from the group, including children, spent two afternoons swimming here. One of the women whom I swam with, who is German, remarked on how curious it is that so few British people swim in outdoor places such as lakes and rivers; whereas in Europe it is a totally normal and common activity.

While ‘wild swimming’ has recently started to enjoy a revival in this country, it still seems to be regarded as an eccentric fringe activity, or even as something trangressive or reckless. I’m not sure exactly why this should be, but I suspect it has to do with two possible factors. One is exaggerated fear about safety. I fully accept that swimming anywhere (including in a pool) carries risk, and there were a few tragic fatalities during the recent heatwave where unfortunate people went swimming in dangerous places. But provided that one follows common-sense guidelines (such as those recommended by the Outdoor Swimming Society), the risk can be managed.

The other issue seems to be access, or lack of it. At the lake where we swam we did have a minor confrontation with a thoroughly unpleasant and aggressive angler who took grave exception to the fact that we were planning to swim in the lake – this despite the fact that the said lake was almost a kilometre long, and there appeared to be ample room for swimmers and anglers alike. After failing to intimidate us (although he did succeed in frightening some of the children in our group) he stomped back into the bushes, while we walked on and found a pleasant and safe swimming spot that was nowhere near any fishing activity.

Being something of a bolshie I tend to be strengthened in my determination to do something if someone authoritatively attempts to dissuade me from doing it. Nevertheless, I am disturbed by the fact that someone feels they should enjoy exclusive access to a body of water simply because they have paid a fee to fish in one small corner of it. Provided that wild swimmers act safely, treat swimming sites with respect (including respecting wildlife) and do not disturb other people, what’s the problem?

The angry angler incident was soon forgotten in the pleasure of swimming in cool water in such beautiful surroundings. The campsite itself was a lovely place, woodland-fringed with spacious tent pitches and few campers (the farm has a policy of limiting the numbers of people who can stay at any one time). There were eco-showers, washing up areas and very upmarket compost toilets: lah-di-dah loos, as a friend of mine might call them. With potted geraniums, mirrors, soft loo roll and a view down the wooded valley… Who could ask for more from a humble campsite bog?

As we’ve been blessed with long weeks of unusually hot and sunny weather, I’ve been able to indulge in wild swimming on a semi-regular basis. I was lucky enough to find a good spot in the River Kennet just west of Newbury, where on several scorching summer afternoons I enjoyed cooling down whilst surrounded by nature: trees, reedbeds, damselflies, fish and birds all doing their thing unbothered by me paddling about mid-channel. I encountered a few other local people enjoying the same part of the river, which was encouraging. One man asked me if I wasn’t frightened of attack from savage pike, to which I smiled and replied “No… I’ve got shoes on.” Perhaps I was being cavalier in my attitude to pike-related human maiming incidents: feel free to let me know if you have documented evidence.

One very real threat in the River Kennet has been a recent pesticide pollution incident near Marlborough. Someone somewhere released a tiny quantity of the organophosphate pesticide chlorpyrifos, which was enough to kill all the aquatic invertebrates living in a stretch of the river. The pollution effects were spotted by volunteers working for ARK (Action for the River Kennet), and the incident is still being investigated by the Environment Agency. Fish and birds that feed on the river invertebrates will of course be adversely affected too. I sincerely hope that whoever did this is caught: they may have been careless, stupid or ignorant but above all they should be stopped from doing it again. The Environment Agency is appealing for information, so if you’ve got any why not give them a ring on 0800 807060. And please always dispose of any pesticides, herbicides or other chemicals carefully: never pour them down a drain.

On a happier note, during September I’m running some wildlife gardening morning workshops at Five A Day Market Garden in Englefield. The photo above was taken of participants on my wild flower and insects course in mid-July, on a truly sweltering hot day. It was a great session with some lovely people, and I’m looking forward to more of them: Trees and Shrubs for Wildlife (14th September), and Garden Birds and Mammals (28th September).

My sessions at Five A Day Market Garden are not just for adults, either: there are two family activity sessions coming up in the October half term holiday: Animal Magic! on Tuesday 29th and Thursday 31st October. A good opportunity for families to come for nature-themed fun, and to get creative with arts and crafts. Both sessions are booking up in advance, so if you fancy coming along to either these or my adult wildlife gardening workshops, best to email me at becca@fiveaday.org.uk as soon as possible.

As well as holiday sessions I’ve been working with Thatcham Young Rangers, the environmental youth group that runs at the Nature Discovery Centre in Thatcham. Sadly the RSPB funding that enabled me to work with the group has come to an end, with my last session with the kids being in early September. (The Young Rangers group itself is continuing, under the great leadership of co-leader Becky O’Melia, supported by staff from BBOWT, the Berks Bucks & Oxon Wildlife Trust.) I will miss the children hugely: they’re a fabulous bunch, and hugely knowledgeable about wildlife. There were a few wobbly lips (including mine) when I told them I was leaving, but hopefully I’ll be invited back as a ‘special guest’ from time to time.

Partly as a result of recent changes (the RSPB ending their involvement at Thatcham, and BBOWT negotiating a working arrangement with West Berkshire Council to take on responsibility for managing several local nature conservation sites, including Thatcham Reedbeds and Greenham Common), I’ve been spending some time taking part in more voluntary conservation activities locally. As part of an ongoing conservation project, BBOWT organise regular moth trapping sessions at Greenham Common and Thatcham Reedbeds. I’ve managed to get along to a couple of these during the recent warm weather, when moths have been abundant. I’ve spent a fascinating few hours peering at the moths coming in to light traps, in the company of local moth experts and BBOWT staff. Moths range from the tiny and drab to the large and spectacular, such as the Elephant Hawkmoth pictured above. Well worth dedicating a few hours to, as long as you don’t mind a late night (most moths generally come out to play around midnight or later) and the odd mouthful of midges.

Of course, not all moths come out at night. I photographed this 6-Spot Burnet Moth during an afternoon butterfly transect up on Greenham Common, where it was enjoying the sunshine and 32ºC temperatures (unlike myself and the other two volunteers carrying out the butterfly survey!). These stunning moths, with their dark metallic green wings spotted with scarlet, are often present in large numbers in open flower-rich habitats. The adults feed on nectar in wild flowers such as thistles and knapweeds, whilst the caterpillars munch Bird’s-foot trefoil Lotus corniculatus.

Butterfly transects are part of the UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme: a specific walk route is followed on a weekly basis between April and September, with the species and numbers of butterflies seen being recorded and data fed back to the UKBMS. On the two transects I’ve done recently at Greenham, the warm weather had brought out quite a few species – including a pair of Purple Emperors, which we watched gliding about in the tree canopy in the south of Greenham Common. Purple Emperors have a habit of sitting on animal poo to feed on the salts in it, not something that people generally associate with butterflies! I didn’t manage to get photos of the Emperors, but I did get right up close to this Grayling (above), while it pretended to be a stone. Grayling butterflies are found in southern coastal areas and heathlands but are declining in the UK, with numbers down 45% in the last 40 years.

Another butterfly we spotted during our transects were Common Blues, including this mating pair who very obligingly sat still for some time for me to photograph them. (I suspect they were rather preoccupied.) The male is on the left, the female on the right; while the plant that they’re sitting on is Bird’s-foot trefoil, one of their caterpillar food plants.

It was a bit of a treat for me to allow myself some time for volunteering, but I’m very glad that I did so. After last year’s dismally wet and chilly summer, when the heatwave hit the UK this year I was determined to make the most of it. Seeing so many of our native butterflies and moths on the wing has been a great reward. Hopefully I’ll get a bit more time for exploring and finding wildlife as the summer goes on.

When the summer school holidays roll around I often think I’m going to have lots of ‘spare’ time for doing things in, but as usual the time seems to be disappearing! I take advantage of office time at home to do lesson planning, including preparing music for the local community choir (Sing The World) that I co-lead in Newbury. It’s lovely to be listening to and choosing music, but now comes the task of learning it. I teach acapella harmony songs by ear, singing the parts to folks until they’ve learned them, so my brain has to file away quite a lot of music – in addition to the choir I’m also leading a Mellow and Magical singing workshop in October. My chosen method of learning songs is to listen to them on my MP3 player and practice each harmony part, so at certain points in the day I can be seen in queues at the post office or in the supermarket, singing along to a tune that only I can hear. No-one seems to mind, however.

As I seem to be flitting about doing all kinds of things, it seems appropriate to finish this blog entry as I started it: with a butterfly. While a great deal of my current workload is preparing for the months ahead, I will try to remind myself to stay in the moment, and enjoy each one for what it brings me. I hope that your summer brings you many magic moments, and plenty more sunshine.

Small Tortoiseshell butterfly at Five A Day Market Garden

Flowers, sunshine, showers

Posted on June 16, 2013 by Becca

The busy days of early spring and lambing have been followed by the equally busy months of April, May and early June, with my outdoor learning work filling most of my time. Despite our Arctic spring (courtesy of the jet stream’s wanderings), the seasons have been ever so slowly inching forwards, and although today is grey and rainy there are signs that we may have more of a summer this year than in 2012. Here’s hoping!

Most unusually, we did have a sunny and warm Bank Holiday Monday in early May. This was a great relief, as on the day I was paddling a home-made raft with a team of other volunteers down the Kennet and Avon Canal, taking part in the Crafty Craft Race to raise funds for Five A Day Market Garden where I work and volunteer. We paddlers worked in shifts to propel our catamaran-like craft the five miles eastwards from Kintbury to Newbury: you can see from the photo below that a fun time was had by all! (I’m the one paddling at the rear of the craft, in case you were wondering.)

Astonishingly, our ‘Ghostbusters’ team (hence the ‘spooky’ facepainting) won the race in our category! I put it down to all of us Five A Day Market garden volunteers getting lots of healthy exercise and fresh organic fruit and veg. (Plus having a superbly engineered craft, designed and built from an old swimming pool cover by Ghostbusters team member Dennis – kudos to him.)

Before the early May Bank Holiday weekend, warm days were rare enough that when they showed up I tried to get out to enjoy them as often as possible. One sunny weekend in late April I went out to see what spring flowers were in bloom, and discovered the most phenomenal bank of Cowslips Primula veris near Speen, thousands of plants in full flower.

Walking around Snelsmore Common the same weekend, I was struck by how many plants had been brought into simultaneous flowering by the warmth, after so many weeks of unrelenting cold. In Withy Copse, Wood Anemones Anemone nemorosa and Lesser Celandines Ranunculus ficaria were flowering together, starring the ground with white and gold. The large purple-blotched arrowhead leaves of Cuckoopint Arum maculatum were everywhere, while just the leaves of Bluebells Endymion nonscriptus were showing.

The trees were only just showing signs of waking up, with few buds opening to release the tips of new leaves, so there was still plenty of light reaching the ground layer where these fabulous woodland flora grow. In another woodland (Briff’s Copse near Hamstead Marshall) I found Moschatel Adoxa moschatellina, a diminuitive little plant that’s always been one of my favourites. Moschatel comes from the Greek word for musk, as the plant has a somewhat musky smell; its other common name is Town Hall Clock, so called because the five-sided flower is said to resemble the faces on a clock-tower.

Of course with the spring and summer flowers opening, there is finally some nectar and pollen for insects to find. With last year being such a dismal one for British butterflies, it’s even more pleasing than usual to see them on the wing on sunny days. I spotted this Peacock butterfly basking at Snelsmore Common in late April, before it swooped off at high speed as all the Vanessid butterflies seem to do.

Snelsmore Common was also the site for a singing picnic that I organised for local choir Sing The World, which I co-lead with my friend Tessa. We gathered down there on 3rd June to share food and drink, followed by an hour or so of harmony singing as the sun slowly set. A grand way to spend an evening, in my opinion. I love the way that singing unites people of all backgrounds and ages, there’s nothing quite like it. Currently I’m just starting to plan songs for my next singing workshop, which will be on 19th October at the lovely barn conference centre at Elm Farm Organic Research Centre near Newbury. I’m looking forward to it already!

With last year’s challenging weather it was nice to hear some good news about local wildlife conservation: the success of BBOWT’s Heritage Lottery Fund bid for the five-year Linking The Landscape project in West Berkshire. I attended a conference in mid-April organised by BBOWT, at which they were celebrating the previous five years’ conservation work done by BBOWT and West Berkshire Council on the local areas covered by the Living Landscape scheme. I had been involved both as a volunteer and as a freelance consultant in the Living Landscape scheme and the new funding bid, so I was very happy to hear the great news that all the sterling conservation work done so far by volunteers and professionals alike will not only be safeguarded but extended, for the benefit of local wildlife and local people.

The conference itself was an interesting day, with a fascinating speech on landscape-scale conservation projects across the UK by ecologist and Head of Planning and Environment for Forest Enterprise England, Jonathan Spencer. One of his points was that landscapes and wildlife are best protected when conservation is integrated with community needs, including economic needs – and vice versa. This is a message that I think many people, both environmentalists and developers, are still struggling to come to terms with. There’s often a sense in this crowded country of battle lines being drawn up, when actually it would make far more sense for conservationists, businesses and local communities to work together to develop ways of managing our land that allow for sustainable living and plenty of space for wildlife. Good food for thought!

During the afternoon of the conference we had the chance to take part in some workshops on a range of different topics: amongst other things I participated in a training session for monitoring the effects of grazing regimes on the heathlands and grasslands of the commons, with West Berkshire ranger Adrian Wallington and ecologist Thomas Haynes. The aim of this is to recruit volunteers to carry out simple plant surveys to help monitor the effects of the livestock grazing on vegetation on the commons, hopefully to improve management for all kinds of wildlife. What better way to spend an hour two on a sunny summer’s day, than sitting in the sunshine looking at flowers? If you agree, why not get involved by getting in touch with Adrian Wallington and asking him for more info.

Another highlight in April was going on a camp with Thatcham Young Rangers to Rushall Farm, in the Easter holidays. As the weather leading up to our camp had been pretty miserable, we kept our fingers crossed… And luckily, we were blessed with more or less dry days! The Young Rangers were total stars: most of them had never camped or slept away from home before, but they all mucked in and had a great time. We visited the farm animals, helped migrating toads reach their pond, built bivouacs in the woods, and sang so loudly round our campfire that they probably heard us in Reading! Because of the very cold night the kids pitched their tents inside the farm’s 300-year-old Black Barn, bedding down amidst much giggling. All of us adult helpers involved received beautiful handmade Thank You cards signed by every child, with the fervent request “Pleeeeeeease can we come and camp here again next year?”

We are now in the heart of the school visit season at Rushall Farm, with the field teaching team working at the farm most days of the week. In mid-May one of my fellow field teachers found some Early Purple Orchids Orchis mascula in Oaklands Copse at the farm, and was kind enough to tell me about them. Their spotted leaves had evidently been nibbled by deer or rabbits, but the pink flowers themselves had survived: a lovely sight amongst the trees.

Schools have also been coming to Five A Day Market Garden: Castleview School from Slough brought three classes of pupils on visits, which were great fun for children and adults alike. Not fazed by the showery weather, the staff and pupils got stuck into sensory and gardening activities, finally making three fabulous scarecrows, one of which is pictured here. The school brought a really positive and creative attitude with them that made working with their groups a total pleasure: I look forward to seeing them at Five A Day again next year!

On the gardening front, things are finally starting to get going on the allotment that I share with my friend Tessa. The rise in temperatures brought our strawberry plants into flower, which in turn brought out the honey bees from the hives in the corner of the allotment site. We’re hoping that this will be a better year for veg growing, as last year was pretty much a wash-out. So far the signs are promising: we’ve enjoyed our first crop of asparagus since creating our asparagus bed three years ago, our broad beans and sugarsnap peas are coming on a treat, and we finished off the last edible bits of last year’s brussels sprouts: the tender green tops and yellow flowers, which I discovered tasted jolly nice when incorporated into a sweet potato and feta salad.

As part of a planned new housing development, our allotments at Speen are threatened with possible relocation to a new site only 30 metres from the Newbury Bypass. Allotment members and the local community are currently being consulted about the proposals, with a public exhibition of plans for the suggested development at Speen Hall on 19th June. My feeling is that I support the provision of new social housing (of which some 40% of the proposed development is supposed to be), but no way do I want to be gardening on the edge of the bypass. Hopefully an alternative site for the allotments will be found which matches the peaceful current setting… Otherwise I may have to dust off my direct action techniques and dig out my D-lock! The plans are very much at the early consultation stage, so hopefully the feedback from allotment holders and others will produce a better solution for all concerned.

At least the slow start to the growing season this year has meant that I haven’t had to spend all my free time weeding the allotment, so I’ve been able to go out exploring for more wildlife. On a trip with the Young Rangers group to Padworth Common local nature reserve in late May, we were surprised to find a glowworm larva sitting on the edge of one of the corrugated iron sheets used as refuges by reptiles on the site.

Glowworms are actually a type of beetle: the adult females have two brightly-glowing segments on the underside of their rear abdomen, which they use to attract the flying male beetles on summer evenings. They feed on tiny snails and although said to prefer chalky or limestone soils can be recorded anywhere with suitable habitat: open vegetation such as grassland or hedges. The peak for finding glowing females is usually July, so why not have a look at a few sites in your locality and see if you can find some.

Staying with the theme of nocturnal and crepuscular wildlife, at the end of May I went on a bat monitoring and moth trapping evening organised by BBOWT and Berks and South Bucks Bat Group, on the southern side of Greenham Common. As the evening was mild (and teeming with midges and mosquitoes!) we were hoping for some good numbers of bats, but alas all the bat nest boxes we checked were empty and there were few calls picked up by our bat detectors. We were lucky enough to catch a couple of Pipistrelle bats in the mist nets set up by James Shipman and other BSBBG volunteers. These tiny bats can each consume up to 3,000 insects in a single night! After spending several hours being bitten despite liberal amounts of insect repellent, I was silently wishing the Pipistrelles good hunting.

The bat action being less than stellar, I joined the moth trappers for a few hours of identifying the various moths and other night-time insects lured in by the lamps and white sheets placed around the common. I love moth trapping: there’s something quintessentially English about sitting in the dark peering at moth identification books and fluttering beasties in bug pots, periodically bombarded by bemused cockchafer beetles. I’ve yet to meet a moth enthusiast who isn’t also a thoroughly nice person. Enthusiasm is infectious, and frankly I find the geekiness of entomologists rather loveable. I’m well aware that this qualifies me for geekdom myself: it’s an identity I happily embrace, along with my many other guises. Oh, and moth trappers always make sure that good biscuits are conveniently to hand, as you can see on the left-hand edge of white sheet.

In early June I went on a dragonfly and damselfly identification course, one of the many Developing Your Skills workshops that BBOWT run across Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire. If you volunteer for BBOWT these courses are free of charge, but even if you pay, at £30.00 these courses are excellent value for money. This particular day was led by local ecology consultant Adrian Hickman, a very knowledgeable naturalist who can communicate what he knows in a clear and accessible way. Adrian’s morning classroom sessions focussing on identification features were reinforced by an afternoon fieldwork session on ponds around Greenham Common. And once again the sun was shining, so we had good amounts of sightings of Broad-bodied Chasers, Emperor Dragonflies, Large Red Damselflies (pictured above) and Azure Damselflies to name a few.

I’m looking forward to a summer of exploring nature and putting some of my newly-acquired skills to use: but one of the perks of working in environmental teaching is that even when I’m at work I get lots of opportunities to notice and appreciate the natural world. Recently I’ve started giving illustrated talks to groups, about subjects including wildlife gardening, foraging for wild foods and environmental education. It’s a genuine pleasure to be able to share my enthusiasm for the natural world with even more people, adults and children alike. A love of wildlife is catching, but unlike other infectious things, it’s really good for you! It’s good to see the BBC promoting their Summer of Wildlife, which will hopefully get more people turned on to nature in their own locality. I’ll certainly be out there: peering at moths, sniffing plants, studying dragonflies. However you plan to spend your summer, I hope you enjoy it too.

Wood anemones at Snelsmore Common

Digging ponds and singing songs

Posted on January 20, 2013 by Becca

2013 is here… So a very Happy New Year to you all. May this year be a good one: peace, health, prosperity, happiness, the whole shebang.

The festive season was certainly a good one for me. I got to catch up with more or less all of my family, including sundry nephews and one of my great-nieces (who is, of course, a total cutie). My mum came through a complicated spinal operation successfully and is recovering well, for which I am hugely thankful. And despite the generally discouraging weather (day after day of grey cloud and rain) I did get out into the wild winter countryside on occasion, as well.

One of many highlights was going to stay with my oldest brother in Norwich for a few days over new year. Not only is he a host par excellence (and a very good cook, to boot) but like me he enjoys rambling along by the sea. We made a trip up to Hunstanton (where the photo at the top of this blog was taken), which is right up on the north-west edge of the sticky-outy bit of Norfolk. I’d never been there before; it’s a funky old Victorian seaside town with the most amazing pink and white cliffs, kind of like coconut ice. (Anyone else remember making that when they were a kid?)

Both the white and red upper rocks are types of limestone, the reddish colour caused by staining with iron. There is also a brownish-red sandstone known as carrstone, similarly iron-stained. The limestone strata are full of fossils – a condition which my brother took full advantage of by spending a couple of busy hours working with his rock hammer to extract several really nice brachiopod fossils.

Being in a more beachcombing mood myself, I strolled for a while along Hunstanton beach, which is littered with curious rounded boulders somewhat reminiscent of stromatolites. Crouching down to eye-level with these boulders put me into what felt like a strange mythical landscape, with rounded hills rolling away to the horizon of the sea.

There’s even a genuine shipwreck on Hunstanton beach: the remains of the 1907 steam trawler Sheraton, mostly buried in the beach. This former fishing boat did duty in both World Wars, ending up rather ignominiously as a target ship for artillery practice. She drifted from her morrings in 1947 and was washed up on the coast, to be nibbled away at by salvagers until all that remains is the bottom section of her hull.

After my Christmas and New Year familial wanderings it was back to work in early January. I had been due to help a team of people build a pond before Christmas, but freezing weather and then flooding had forced us to postpone. In the first week of January however it finally stopped raining so we were able to get to work. You may ask, “How does it take whole a team of people to build one pond?” Well, this wasn’t your average garden goldfish pond. No… This was more on the scale of being a minor civil engineering project. For all those who’d like to try this at home, here’s your step-by-step guide to building a very large wildlife pond:

Step 1, get a nice shiny mechanical digger to dig out a hole the size of, oh say an Olympic swimming pool.

Step 2: ensure pond hole conforms to the exacting design of top ecologist and pond-builder supremo Rod d’Ayala.

Step 3: assemble a team of highly-skilled, energetic and fetchingly-attired pond construction staff (aka ‘The Hired Muscle’).

Step 4: pick out stones by hand from pond hole and cover any loose earth with puddled chalky clay (N.B. getting muddy is a vital part of this process).

Step 5: line the entire pond (sides and bottom) with two layers of tough underlay material, to protect pond liner. Note that boots must be removed first, so enabling all those involved to spend the entire day padding about in the pond hole with soggy socks.

Step 6: lift roll of waterproof rubber pond liner (weighing over 600 kg) to edge of pond using digger, then pause to make sure you’ve got it lined up exactly the right way round because if you haven’t it’s going to be rather difficult lifting it out again.

Step 7: let the liner unroll!

Step 8: use your highly-skilled team to unfold the liner and get it tucked beautifully into position. (A great team-building exercise, this.)

Step 9: cover the whole thing with another two layers of underlay material, then cover that with a six-inch layer of topsoil lifted in by digger and spread by hand with shovels. Create marshy and shallow areas within pond by heaping up soil, following Rod’s cunning and intricate pond design.

Step 10: go home to a hot bath and generally ache a lot for a few days afterwards.

Actually, Step 10 should probably be wait for pond to fill with water… So I will re-visit the site over the next couple of months and see how it’s getting on. Watch this space. The pond has been built mainly to encourage toads, so it’s hoped that it will be full enough with water for them to find it attractive as they emerge from hibernation and start to do their courtship and spawn-laying in February. Fingers crossed.

Aching muscles or not, pond building was certainly a great way to start the new year. Being out in the fresh air and helping to create a valuable habitat for declining British wildlife, plus all the Eccles cakes I could eat… Life could be a lot worse!

January continued to be inspiring, with an opportunity for me to attend the Natural Voice Practitioners’ Network annual gathering, which was held at Wortley Hall near Sheffield. As a co-leader of Newbury-based community choir Sing The World I’ve been a member of NVPN for a couple of years now, but this was my first gathering – and what an amazing weekend it was. About a hundred incredibly creative and talented singing teachers and voice workers, gathered together to share ideas and teach songs to each other, in a lovely old country house set in beautiful Yorkshire landscapes.

Wortley Hall itself is an amazing place: a former private residence, it was bought by an independent co-operative organisation known as Wortley Hall (Labour’s Home), with the intention that it would be used by the working class as an education and holiday centre. Today it is still run on co-operative principles, and hosts all kinds of gatherings and events ranging from socialist celebrations and conferences to weddings and parties. My paternal grandfather was a strong socialist, so it felt wonderfully familiar to be roaming around a building whose rooms and wings are named after the likes of Keir Hardie, Robert Owen and Sylvia Pankhurst. In the current political climate it was heartening to be somewhere which celebrated a long tradition of radicalism and social justice. A whole bunch of us even sang The Internationale on the hall staircase – in four-part harmony, of course!

Not only was the hall itself a beautiful and peaceful place, but the staff there were friendly and the the food excellent. All of us at the NVPN gathering were working hard over weekend, so it was great to have such a lovely venue. Being singers, of course we kept the bar filled with song every evening… Until 2am, on one occasion! It was impossible to go to bed when there were always so many wonderful voices joining together in harmonies, wherever you went. Music was everywhere: in the bar; over breakfast, lunch and supper; during workshops; even on a 2-hour singing walk around the surrounding countryside (much to the amusement of a Ramblers group we met along the way). I feel very fortunate to have enjoyed such a great weekend, both from a professional development viewpoint but also because I made so many friends.

So all in all, it’s been rather a good start to 2013. Hopefully this is a good omen of things to come… I certainly plan to be getting out and about a lot this year, working and visiting friends and discovering all kinds of new and wonderful places. I’ll leave you with the wish that your own year ahead may be filled with good things too. Have fun, stay healthy, play in the snow and sing whenever possible. Or dance, if that’s your thing. Or do both! Looking forward to the adventures the coming year will bring…

Of martyrs and hermit crabs…

Posted on May 12, 2012 by Becca

Summer term progresses and most of my weekdays are now spent in field teaching, but the May Bank Holiday weekend gave me an opportunity to get away for a break with a friend, down on the Dorset coast. A singing workshop was being led by Gilo and Sarah, two lovely people that I met at the Unicorn Voice Camp last August. They are both fabulous singers and members of the Natural Voice Practitioners’ Network, to which I also belong. My friend and I expected a wonderful workshop, and we weren’t disappointed: Sarah and Gilo led around fifty people in a full day of harmony singing that was simply out of this world. The space we were singing in, the chapel at the Othona community near Burton Bradstock, was acoustically superb as well as being a beautiful setting in its own right. All in all, a great day.

My friend Tessa and I had an interesting journey to Othona. We paused en route to eat our picnic lunch at Tolpuddle, the village associated with the famous Tolpuddle Martyrs: six farm labourers (George and James Loveless, James Brine, James Hammett, John and Thomas Standfield) who tried to organise themselves into an early trade union to alleviate the poverty in which they lived. In 1834, the six men were framed by local squire James Frampton and sentenced to seven years’ transportation to Australia. Such was the outcry from the public, trade unions and a few MPs that two years later the men were all pardoned. They returned to Britain but found continuing ill treatment at the hands of wealthy landowners: five of the original six eventually emigrated to Canada where they lived out their lives in peace.

Astonishingly, the Sycamore tree under which the men held some of their union meetings is still growing in Tolpuddle (and is pictured above). I stood under it for a while and thought of those men daring to work together to change their world for the better, despite the fear of retribution from the rich and powerful. A significant message in these difficult times. No doubt certain people in government today wish fondly that transportation was still an option.

Before we arrived at Othona, we also went for a walk along nearby Chesil Beach. It was a grey evening with an almost completely calm sea, and the only people to be seen on the beach were fishermen. This mighty shingle bank had an almost surreal quality in the fading light: I could have sat meditatively on it for hours, gazing out to sea. At this western end the shingle is pea-sized, increasing to cobblestone size as you go east. According to local legend, smugglers landing on the shingle at night could tell exactly where they were on the coast by the size of the pebbles. I paddled briefly and narrowly escaped frostbite: early May is not propitious for sea-bathing in Britain. Tessa was far more sensible and kept her wellies firmly on.

In places along the shingle, some plants have managed to grab a foothold: I saw plenty of Sea kale Crambe maritima, with its fleshy crinkled leaves looking a lot more impressive than the stuff I’ve grown on the allotment. I tried munching a few leaves and they were surprisingly tasty, in a cabbagey sort of way. I couldn’t help thinking that they would be rather nice stir-fried with some ginger and spring onions and a few seared scallops.

Another coastal specialist growing at Chesil Beach is Sea campion Silene uniflora (pictured at the start of this blog entry), with white blossoms nodding above pinkish-green calyxes and slender stems and leaves. Amongst the flowers, black lumps of ancient peat lay scattered over the shingle, washed up onto the beach from sediments formed in a lagoon that lay further offshore when sea levels were lower over 4,000 years ago. Near one I found a wave-worn plastic soldier of unknown regiment, frozen in mid-stride: I left him storming the beaches on a block of peat not far from some World War Two tank traps, as he seemed quite at home there.

When we finally arrived at the Othona community to stay for the weekend, we were made instantly welcome and plied with delicious food, including ice cream for pudding with homemade butterscotch sauce. Othona has a core group of members living there as part of a spiritual community and runs a programme of events and ‘Open Space’ weekends that are open to all-comers. Along with its sister site in Essex, Othona in Dorset has a Christian basis but is open to people of all faiths or none, believing that what people share is more important than what divides them. As someone currently following a pagan tradition / the Tao Te Ching / meditation as a spiritual path, I found this open-hearted and inclusive attitude to spirituality refreshing and healing.

I would recommend staying at Othona to anyone. Not only was it peaceful and welcoming, but they have the most amazing tree-house in their garden and the sea is only ten minutes’ walk away. Before Othona took on the site in the 1960s it was the home of a small community of women dedicated to a life of self-sufficiency, vegetarianism and prayer. Known locally as the White Ladies (after the undyed cotton or silk habits they wore), each woman lived in her own wooden house and cultivated the land around it: sort of ‘Eco Nuns’, as someone described them. Sounds like a pretty good life to me. And I feel sure that they would have built a treehouse too, if only they’d thought of it.

While walking along the beach below Othona we found a Common hermit crab Pagurus bernhardus firmly ensconced in the recycled empty shell of a Common whelk Buccinum undatum. Hermit crabs scavenge on anything from dead fish to bits of seaweed, so are quite happy foraging around the tideline on beaches. Apparently if one hermit crab fancies another’s shell they may try to forcibly evict it. Even marine life has its perils, it would seem.

We were lucky enough to get quite a bit of sunshine over the weekend, very welcome after so many grey rainy days. On the Sunday we joined another friend (John) for a fossil hunting walk from Charmouth to Lyme Regis, managing to pick up quite a few nice ammonites and other fossils on the way. The best place to find these is not in the disintegrating (and hazardous) cliff faces, but amongst rocks and shingle on the beach. This doesn’t however discourage lots of people from whacking enthusiastically at anything rock-shaped with fossil hammers, so our walk was musically punctuated by the chink of steel on stone.

I went on many childhood holidays to Lyme Regis and have lots of good memories of this part of the coast, so it was especially nice for me to share a day there with two friends. We ate lunch (massive fresh local crab baguettes) on the beach, and soaked up the sunshine.

Our day out coincided with the Lyme Regis Fossil Festival, an annual event that celebrates all things geological and palaeontological. We enjoyed some of the street theatre on offer, including the roving Big Noise Band and the eccentric Battle For The Winds performance (which was frankly as mad as a sack full of weasels – British eccentricity at its finest). I also spotted a rather enigmatic young lady dressed in period costume (pictured below), taking the air on the promenade. I thought perhaps she was meant to be a young Mary Anning, the nineteenth century fossil collector who is one my earliest heroines.

Also part of the festival was stone balancer Adrian Gray. Some time ago my parents gave me a photograph of one of his delicately-balanced pieces, but I hadn’t appreciated just how astonishing his work was until I watched him in action. He stands one massive sea-smoothed stone atop another, in positions that seem to defy gravity. Lest people grow suspicious of trickery, he periodically takes these balances apart and perches a new stone in place of the first one. I could’ve watched him all day. I think stone balancing could be the new Jenga.

After fortifying ourselves with some ice cream we headed back to Charmouth over the clifftops, following a route that would have given us spectacular views had it not been diverted away from the cliff edge due to coastal erosion in 2009. My understanding is that the path could simply be moved slightly inland when erosion occurs, remaining close to the cliff edge… But that would require the cooperation of local landowners, including a golf course. In the meantime walkers enjoy fine views of local roads and roundabouts, although a small section of the path does still cut through part of the golf course, where I saw my first Early Purple Orchids Orchis mascula of the year, growing alongside Cowslips Primula veris, Bluebells Hyacinthoides non-scripta and Common Dog Violets Viola riviniana.

The Dorset coast is a stunning and fascinating place, rich in geology, wildlife and poetry. One day I’d like to live closer to it, and walk there often. John Masefield puts it better than I can, in his ballad Sea Fever:

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

Till the next time, Jurassic Coast.

Cogden beach, looking west to Charmouth

Stop Press: Winter Not Yet Over

Posted on March 4, 2012 by Becca

It’s that time of year when weather can be at its most British: sunny and mild one day, wild and wet and cold the next… And the past week has been true to seasonal form. Last Saturday I was cycling around Thatcham Reedbeds after working with the Young Rangers group at the Nature Discovery Centre. Glorious sunshine had brought out local people and the wildlife, and I found not only Blackthorn Prunus spinosa in flower but also catkins on the Alders Alnus glutinosa around the edge of the lake there.

From Blackthorn we get the phrase ‘Blackthorn Winter’, which refers to a spell of cold weather often coinciding with the blossoming of this early-flowering native shrub. Blackthorn flowers appear before the leaves, which makes them easy to differentiate from Hawthorn Crataegus monogyna. The other plant that could be confused with Blackthorn is Cherry Plum, Prunus cerasifera; but this tends to flower earlier still than Blackthorn, grows taller, and is largely lacking the long sharp woody thorns that Blackthorn bears in abundance. I can testify to the wounding power of these: some years ago I spiked my arm on Blackthorn during a conservation task, and unbeknownst to me the brittle thorn broke off inside the muscle… From whence it was surgically removed some four weeks later, after I’d begun wondering why my arm wasn’t healing up.

Alder is another interesting native tree: usually found growing alongside water or in damp woodlands, it bears long catkins in the spring from which the wind blows clouds of pollen onto its smaller cone-like female flowers (last year’s woody ‘cones’ are visible in my photograph). Alder wood has the useful property of not rotting when under water, an attribute that led it to be used for making bridge piles, sluice gates, water pipes and clogs. It also produces a good quality charcoal that was once used in the production of gunpowder. It is a valuable tree species for wildlife, supporting leaf- and nectar-feeding insects and seed-feeding birds, as well as helping to stabilise waterside banks with its roots. In folklore Alder had a somewhat sinister reputation as the pale timber appears to bleed after felling, turning from its pale freshly-cut colour to a bright orange-red.

There was a lot of bird activity on this mild day too, with smaller birds such as Great and Blue Tits, Blackbirds, Robins and finches hectoring each other from the bushes whilst waterfowl were busy on the lake. No sign yet of the Sand Martins returning to their deluxe nest box complex (that you can just see on the lake island in the photo above), but lots of paddlers about: Mallards, Shovellers, Tufted Ducks, Great Crested Grebes, Coots and Moorhens with their comedy feet, Mute Swans and of course the ubiquitous Canada Geese. People feed the birds on the lake (usually grain that is bought from the Nature Discovery Centre, helping to generate a little extra income) so there are always plenty to see.

Our Young Rangers session was about recycling and Fair Trade: the children divided into two teams (boys and girls, inevitably) and built ‘buggies’ from recycled materials that were then raced against each other. ‘Team Girl 6’ were the overall winners, success largely due to their superior abilities to co-operate and work together, it seemed! Notably, their buggy included a matchbox luggage compartment for storing useful stuff, and was accompanied by a selection of nifty team flags. I predict that Jeremy Clarkson should be worried.

After playing some ‘Unfair Games’ we made spring chocolate cornflake nests, using Fair Trade chocolate. The kids even made some for me and co-leader Becky, as well as other staff at the Discovery Centre, so I was nicely fuelled up for my bike ride back home afterwards. Just before I set off I discovered my first Sweet Violet Viola odorata of the year, flowering on the sunny bank near the centre. They have sweetish scent which is unlike any other flower, and which possesses the curious power of temporarily anaesthetising your smell receptors. I’m not sure what evolutionary benefit this would confer, but it remains one of my favourite early spring wild blooms. The leaves are also the foodplant for Fritillary butterfly species, should you need any further encouragement to find room in your garden for a few violets.

Early flowers are appearing and so are the lambs at Rushall Farm, the first mob of ewes having begun giving birth. This is the start of what will be a flood of over 1,400 lambs by Easter – and many hundreds of school children and youth groups who come to the farm on educational visits, too. I was teaching at Rushall this week and will be almost every weekday from now until Easter: we had two schools of ‘littlies’ who were fun to work with, and on Thursday we all got to see a ewe giving birth to triplets – high excitement! The kids were awe-struck and asked lots of questions about the process (especially about the gory bits). Steve the shepherd handled the whole thing very competently with the assistance of a veterinary student on work placement at the farm, even managing to keep a running commentary going whilst rummaging about inside the sheep. Very impressive.

After a rather nice mild end to the week, Sunday came over decidedly wintery again, which was frustrating as I’d been stuck indoors with a stomach bug on Saturday and was pining for some fresh air. I decided to head for the allotment anyway, whereupon the rain turned into near-horizontal snow. Digging up leeks in a howling blizzard is an interesting experience; whimpering slightly I managed to get my harvest in and scuttle home to a hot bath, with leeks for supper. The allotment hasn’t got much going on with all the cold weather we’ve been having: our broccoli won’t be ready till late spring or early summer, and our cabbages probably fall into the category of ‘baby vegetables’ at present. It’s a bit like waiting for Christmas. I’m still munching my way through last year’s frozen runner beans and courgettes though, so I’m not complaining.

The aforesaid stomach bug was particularly annoying as it prevented me from going along to sing at a ‘Ukes For UNICEF’ charity benefit festival in Berkhamsted on Saturday. Unfortunately that left my co-performer John in the lurch, although he of course managed to give a successful ukulele-playing solo spot. And we did have a good night earlier in the week at the Unplug The Wood open mike at the Lion Brewery in Ash. It was standing room only and people were very complimentary, plus I won a bottle of wine in the raffle so a good evening out! For those of you who weren’t there, there are a couple of videos up on YouTube of me singing with John on uke, should you be so inclined to have a listen.

The coming week sees me busy teaching at Rushall and co-leading Sing The World community choir in Newbury, so fingers crossed for weather that feels more like spring than winter as March marches on. I spotted some Lesser celandines Ranunculus ficaria starting to open on a south-facing hedgebank as I drove home last week, beautiful little starry yellow wild flowers that shout “NECTAR!” at any passing insects who may have been brave enough to come out of hibernation…
So for their sake and mine, hopefully some warmer days will soon turn up.

Rowanleaf

Writing, Singing & Teaching About The World

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