Well we have moved, and life is quite different. We feel as though we are living in a wood, so this blog is all about trees and woods. Now in mid-summer the woods are dark and mysterious, and offer habitats for an abundance of wildlife which is very good. The wood is just over our garden hedge, and at the other side of it is a wetland nature reserve. So I will take you for a little walk around to see what I see just minutes outside my garden gate. There are large open spaces as well as wild woods, and a playpark for children just conveniently within whistling distance so that I can let the older grandchildren know when to come in. There are at least 200 trees with TPOs [Tree Preservation Orders] and a lot of them are limes. So when walk past them I am usually singing in my head Vaughan William's "Linden Lea". The words were by William Barnes, and although it is called Linden Lea, a Lime tree grove, it is mostly about an apple tree. Some young apple trees have been planted near the play park. They are in the picture above. Within the woodland flow'ry gladed By the oak tree's mossy moot The shining grass blades timber shaded Now do quiver under foot And birds do whistle overhead And water's bubbling in its bed And there for me the apple tree Do lean down low, in Linden Lea ...... and the last verse - Let other folk make money faster In the air of dark roomed towns. I do not dread a peevish master Though no man may heed my frowns For I be free to go abroad Or take again my homeward road To where, for me, the apple tree Do lean down low, in Linden Lea. Evidently this wood was only planted in the early 1990s, but is very well established with a mixture of species. This is two minutes from my door. Here is a young oak, so as I walk by I am singing in my head - A North Country maid up to London had strayed, Although with her nature it did not agree. She wept and she sighed, and so bitterly she cried, "How I wish once again in the North I could be! Oh the oak and the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish at home in my own country." There are a few older trees here and there, and this is an ash which must have been here before the wood was planted. This is an ancient forest area which was called the Forest of Galtres which extended from just outside York to the hills which rise just to the north of Easingwold and from Sheriff Hutton to Raskelf. And some villages have "on the Forest" added to their name. There are various Forest Lanes and Forest Farms. All this implies that the area was wooded but also that it was reserved for hunting and that the people who lived in the villages in this area were subject to "Forest Law" which had harsh punishments for anyone who had hunting dogs, weapons or was found to damage the timber. Some of you may remember the BBC Schools programmes on the wireless, and in particular "Singing Together" with William Appleby. I loved this, you learnt all the folk songs and sea shanties and such old fashioned songs. Valuable education. One was The keeper would a-hunting go, and under his cloak he carried a bow, All for to shoot at a merry little doe, among the leaves so green-o! Jackie boy! Master! Sing ye well? Very well! Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, among the leaves so green-o! To my hey down down! To my ho down down! Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, among the leaves so green-o! The following verses are about the catching of various does, which re-reading as an adult is full of inuendo and makes me surprised that we sang it with such innocence. All the Hey down and Ho downs were like the fa la la las in madrigals, to cover up the naughty bits. There can be an air of mystery about woods, especially in high summer when the canopy of leaves creates deep shadows. "Is there anybody there?" said theTraveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest's ferny floor ...... A haunting poem by Walter de la Mare (look it up) where the only hint that the scene was set in a wood is the one line about the horse, but the poem creates a picture of a desolate place full of mystery - "Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word," he said ..... Robert Frost is another poet I learned to love in my childhood, and especially the poem "The road not taken", it also has an area of mystery. What is beyond that bend in the road, dare I go along and find out ? Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth. and the poem concludes with Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less travelled by ...... This is also part of the nature reserve on the edge of the wood - and leads to - a wet land habitat. Not as exciting an actual running stream, but evidently we are learning to treasure wetlands for the wildlife. Can you see the dragon flies ? No, of course not, but the day I took this photograph there were several of them , they are huge and they fly so fast ! I have also seen damsel flies. A lot of the open water is now covered by algae, but earlier there were yellow flag irises, meadow sweet, flowering rushes, reed mace and sedges in flower. However this is not natural. The wetlands are where it says Fish Pond on the map above which served a very ancient Manor House. The road opposite is called Manor Road. The Manor House has long gone. Back into the woods - Now the holly bears a berry as green as the grass, And Mary bore Jesus who died on the cross - And Mary bore Jesus Christ, our Saviour for to be, And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly. A verse from the Sans Day Carol which is usually sung at Christmas time but is a carol for Easter and Holy Week as each verse remind us of the Easter story. I am going to have to learn to love weeds (which is hard). Having been brought up to be proud of the production of British farmers it really pains me to see docks and ragwort. And oh boy, there are a lot of plants I think of as weeds - docks and ragwort and thistles and hogweed .... but here the dock leaves have a rather pretty Small tortoiseshell butterfly and the ragwort has a delicate little Ringlet butterfly. There is an abundance of both butterflies and moths flitting about, bats, squirrels (grey), birds and unfortunately, rabbits, which get through the hedge into the garden. And this is just five minutes from my door. In the week since I took this photograph the wheat has turned colour and will soon be ready for harvesting. It reminds me of a Welsh folk song called "Watching the wheat" . There are various translations from the original Welsh, but I have been humming this when I walk on the lane past these fields.
A foolish luckless youth am I, Love's sweet commandments keeping; 'Tis I who watch the golden wheat, Another does the reaping. O come, O come when true love calls, Than all the flow'rs thou art rarer, My love but grows as thy fond charms Grow fairer yet and fairer. So in the next weeks I will explore a bit more and share with you some of my discoveries in my next blog.
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AuthorThis is where you can share creativity with me. I believe that everyone has something creative within them, and it is a joy to find ways of being creative. Blogging is NEW to me, so here goes ..... Archives
January 2024
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