Jane Wheeler's Blog 2009

goblin combe

Posted jane -->on 27th Dec 2009

Goblin Combe is a steep sided dry valley west of Bristol with rock cliffs hanging over old yew trees and mossy rocks and ferns. in this cold weather the valley bottom traps the freezing air and the upper woods make a better place to start our walk.

even here in the milder south west there are still snow patches hanging about. sunshine streams through the trees and the sky is wedgwood blue.

this wood is a patchwork of plantation and self-seeded, full of tracks and old dry stone walls

honeysuckle twines itself like a jungle vine around older trees. it already has the new season’s leaves unfurling, little specks of green suspended amongst the grey browns of tree trunk and branch.

shadows of hedgerow trees make a lacy pattern on the snow dusted fields reminiscent of a John Nash painting

along the edge of the limestone ridge we scramble over exposed rock and then down a steep pasture, out of the sunshine. the path becomes treacherous with melted and then frozen snow.

we slip and slide down to the bottom, amongst snow-dusted mosses and ferns

in some places hazels sprout out of the slope, accompanied by harts-tongue ferns, gelid with frost.

another climate down here, sunless, damp and freezing. the air seems solid with frozen moisture.

yew trees arch over the path in this narrow neck of the gorge, making it even darker.

there are deciduous trees here too, their warty bulbous trunks covered with moss

and their branches reaching up for the light above the combe

beech trees cling to the steep sides, or hang on to the rocky cliffs

their canopies making patterns at the same time delicate and muscular.

and back at the car park, a garden tree is infested with great mops of parasitic mistletoe, decorative in its own way.

(3 comments)

after the snowstorm

Posted jane -->on 18th Dec 2009

after a wild night of raging winds and whirling snow the morning is white and peaceful, small birds on the peanut feeder trying to regain enough calories to survive another night.

we walk up the road and find broken branches from the holm oaks strewn across, blocking the way. no traffic has attempted our road.

across the road the snow is pristine, and stuck on all the windward surfaces

twigs all caked with snow in the hedges

it’s starting to snow again

but it’s only wet and there’s no wind chill

those of us who need coats pull our collars up.

the camera doesn’t stay in my pocket for long; the blackthorn is especially pretty.

we walk along the field edge; the snow has drifted eight inches deep in places and I am out of breath by the time we find our gap and slide down the snowy ditch into the shelter of the wood.

branches are weighted down and we have to crawl under some, but there is only a dusting of snow underfoot.

we emerge to walk on the new track, which is not such hard work. there is a big hare standing up on the skyline, his size exaggerated by the white field.

clouds breaking up further away, but the snow continues overhead.

certainly worth being out early, everything is icing sugar and christmas cake pretty.

in the sheltered green lane there is not much snow

twigs and branches full of ice where the snow half melted last night, then froze.

clots of snow on every seedhead;

the graphic pattern of the hedge outlined in white.

an oak tree has had a branch ripped off, but mostly it’s the evergreens that suffered from last night’s violence.

we have an interlude of alternately rushing about, and standing still whistling; there are a lot of hares visible – first in the field next to the green lane, and then one in Clip street, and this one is close and constrained by the hedges – it doubles back, so I try to catch Miss T and get knocked flat. then more disappearance – we stand on the junction and whistle – the hare comes trolling down the road – no sign of T … it sees us and turns back, exiting through the hedge on the other side. more calling and whistling, and after five minutes T crawls under the opposite hedge, looking sheepish, blue coat still intact. we saw four hares this morning – after months of seeing none. that is the difficulty of owning a lurcher, unless she is on the lead all the time. luckily big adult hares are very difficult to catch, and most are pretty crafty, compared to dimwit hound, so she ends up going in the opposite direction.

all along Clip street the snow has turned to ice. ice balls fall from high branches, and the shrubs along the farmhouse wall are full of icicles. we come across a car which can’t make it through the snow. (serve them right for taking this narrow lane as a short cut) luckily for them there is a tractor about. the farmer has already cleared broken branches from several places along here.

we take the other green lane back home, and find deep drifts which will keep it shut for a while.

Foundry Row is looking very victorian christmas card, except for the TV ariels and the dustbins, one of which made me think there was a thunderstorm yesterday evening as it went over in the wind. snow has stuck to gable ends and chimneys. (edit; there WAS a thunderstorm, and part of the village has had no electricity for four days)

we are lucky that there was no power outage, although the lights were flickering a lot. the other side of the village was without electricity this morning.

(3 comments)

into the wood

Posted jane -->on 3rd Dec 2009

today there was a wind full of fine rain behind us on the beach, so we turned into the pinewoods rather than face back into it.

these old trees are up to their necks in sand dunes which may well predate their planting but seem to have risen around them.

but unlike most pine plantations the regimented rows of trees are broken up beyond recognition; there are little glades where storms have taken out individuals; grasses, undergrowth, reseeded younger trees and paths spread between the oldest giants.

they are home to a variety of wild creatures; some specialised, like crossbills.

the bristling shapes of trunks and branches darkened by the rain.

and trees uprooted by recent storms tangle with the survivors, blocking the way.

further back towards lady Anne’s drive there are birch woods too, inland from the main dune ridge.

we get a bit lost and emerge back onto the beach too early

the wind is still strong and bringing rain across the beach; there are white horses out to sea.

the clouds are soft and moving quickly, grey water-filled sky meets grey sea.

we turn and re-enter the wood; there is no real path, but a tangle of hillocks, trees and brambles.

and then the marshes with Holkham village and the Hall in the distance

(no comment)

blue sky birchwoods

Posted jane -->on 25th Nov 2009

the woods at Holt Lowes are a good place to walk on a windy day,� pine plantations shelter the heath and birchwoods from the west and south, while the hillocky landscape protects the walker from the worst of the weather.

the bracken has been mostly beaten down by successive storms, and the sodden russet fronds lie about amongst fallen leaves from the oaks and silver birch. a few leaves are still clinging on doggedly, despite the twenty to thirty mile an hour winds we have been experiencing.

in Bale we seemed to experience some kind of mini tornado in our road on Monday afternoon – bits of branch were torn from the holme oaks and pine trees near the church, my dustbins were felled in the first blast, lights flickered – yet no damage seemed to have been inflicted anywhere else.

today in the sheltered little hills and vales of the Lowes the low slanting sunlight dazzled, illuminating the remaining oak leaves and the silver birch trunks. I was looking for fly agaric, one superb specimen had caught my eye on previous walks, but it had disappeared, no doubt melted down by rain, or kicked away by cows.

bright light unfiltered by the leaves of the canopy exposes details of the wood which go unnoticed at other times of the year. the trunks of the older birch are marvelously furrowed and covered in bright copper green lichens.

in the pine plantation all is dark and mysterious with shafts of light piercing the gloom and reminding one of dim cathedrals.

T disappears from view as she makes the rounds of the wood; S sticks to me, he is never very adventurous.

when T gets the wind up her tail she finds us much too slow, especially if I have the camera.

carpets of leaves everywhere; a beautiful sight and sensation as one walks through them between the newly stripped structure of trunk and branch and twig, each with its own delicate or muscular graphic patterning, according to its species.

(1 comment)

a wet walk

Posted jane -->on 20th Nov 2009

we start out today under the threat of dark grey clouds and a strong wind from the south west, apparently pushing them away, further toward the coastal horizon, visibly blanketed in rain.

rooks and jackdaws wildly circling above in the wind and joining with the geese on the sugarbeet field.

hedgerows full of colour,� amongst dogwood, field maple and ivy,� guelder rose berries shine out.

along the edge of the wood, showers of leaves tumble out of the sky, in advance of driving rain.

we slither down into the ditch and up again into the wood, in search of shelter.

a big ivied� oak keeps us dry for a while. the wood is full of hazels, their leaves shining like big gold coins in the rain.

dripping trees spatter us as we� make our way along the inner edge; once there was a fair trackway along here.

the eastern horizon is cut off by the slope, and low clouds blow across shedding more rain.

out in the open we find puddles full of bright leaves reflecting dog and photographer.

the geese begin to blow across with the cloud, in small groups, squeaking and honking.

we cross the meadow , veiled in gusting grey swathes of rain.

the willows in this boggy bit of scrub along the bottom are still bright with leaves.

the green lane offers no shelter, but its colours are gorgeous, the hazels are just at their most yellow.

the geese have been congregating in the barley field here, but they don’t like my presence and fly up into the wind.

I rush up the lane in search of a good (camera) shot as they peel off back to the sugarbeet.

the hedges in the lane glow with orange and yellow. a vivid streak of red, a string of bryony berries; a beautiful, but poisonous member of the tropical gourd family.

bracken lines the lower end of the lane, copper fronds bleaching to pale yellow.

the roads run with rain water as the edge of a shelf of cloud edges across the sky, blue following behind.

we walk home in the dry.

(3 comments)

mud and birds

Posted jane -->on 17th Nov 2009

the winter face of Morston has more birds and animals than humans and boats. the grey seals are giving birth in the marram dunes at the end of the spit, and the pontoons and moorings in the creek only harbour a few boats now.

there are still seal trips for the hardy, and at low tide the mussel fishermen and cockle or bait diggers are busy, but the show is the birds.

winter migrants or local all-year-rounders like redshank, oystercatchers, curlew and little egrets catch my eye as I walk the outermost edge of the saltmarsh, and their calls mingle with the moaning calls of mating seals and the low sounds of wind and wave thrashing the shoreline out past the point.

a poor winged brent goose waddles across our path, unable to fly and weak it plays dead in front of the dogs, flat to the ground and neck stretched out, then gets up and walks off. wild-fowling starts in October and continues until the spring.

clouds of knot fly above the mud saltings, turning and twisting, displaying their bellies in a flash of white which travels through the flock. little parties of black brent come and go, arrowing across from feeding ground to fen, purring their calls above our heads. we slither down the mud bank of a creek and walk across the river; at low tide there is only about six inches of water over a bed of gravel and shell. we walk along its edge, below the mud flats, at eye level with another party of geese. when the weather is harsh they come inland and graze on the young corn, but they are happy with what they can get on the marsh here at this time of year.

by the Stiffkey channel one oystercatcher dwarfs the little waders with its huge orange beak, picking around the sacks of mussels which lie stacked to be cleaned by the river at high tide. the mussel fishermen started their season about six weeks ago; it’s a tough job – back-breaking and exposed to all weathers through the winter – wading a small boat out to the beds in the lagoon at low tide, forking it full of grey weed-beribboned mussels, and towing it back, and sorting them in a big riddle into the sacks. it has its own rewards if you love wild-life, peace and quiet and the outdoors.

(3 comments)

geese and beaches

Posted jane -->on 12th Nov 2009

the pink footed geese are visiting the farm every day now to feast on the alarming amount of wasted sugarbeet left on the land. we managed not to put them up the first time we walked across, but yesterday they would not have it and made a smokey snaking cloud behind the poplars as they flew off in search of more private fields. it took them a good two hours to come back.� by Lady Anne’s Walk at Holkham they are not so fussy, grazing on the marsh a few yards from the parked cars and walking people.

on the beach there was a posse of twitchers, lining up with their tripods and cameras. we soon got past them. with the wind from the south and not a cloud in the sky it was almost tee-shirt conditions.

on the horizon two boats, maybe a bigger sailing boat with a tender, difficult to see exactly.

no drifting sand whipped by the wind to sting, and just a few other dog walkers; T and S had a great time.

a little digging

a little paddling, posing and chewing on razor shells

the tide was coming in over these sand wavelets

the sun shining through translucent shells

and highlighting all the sand textures, like these fine tidelines

and little bird prints

back via the sand dunes

thoughts of summers long gone when flocks of nude young men inhabited this stretch of dunes with no restrictive notices

and into the pine woods where naturism is not allowed, lest it offend the majority …. silent footfalls and myriad fungi.

not chanterelles, I think, there were a lot, and they would have been picked if any good. there is a false chanterelle, and then something with a more definite stem and cap which is very poisonous. if I see these again I must check for the faint apricot scent which true chanterelles have.

as we walked back past the geese I got some closer photos. I wonder why this lot are not flying around Norfolk looking for sugarbeet fields.

(no comment)

porcelain

Posted jane -->on 8th Nov 2009

I have not written about the pots for a while. I have a new project, making porcelain pieces for Mina Perhonen in Japan, which are more production pieces, even though they are still made by hand, but things have been slow, with many interruptions.

the order consists of bottles, conical bowls, and spoons. it has taken a few weeks to get anywhere near filling the kiln, but there are enough pieces to start packing it now.

I have experimented with many different textures, made by impressing leaves, ivy flower heads, and various implements into the porcelain.

the spoons are very delicate; a mouse broke one by treading on it – a fat mouse presumably. I can’t get rid of them in the workshop.

I have also made some more jars with cut-off lids, using the impress/stamping technique to almost pierce the clay, or pushing knife or brush handles through it.

as the porcelain is translucent, this should allow the light into/out of these, and they might be pretty with tea-lights in them.

the last set of pieces were these six bottles, made in Southern Ice porcelain. it seems to split open even more than the Audrey Blackman, I was surprised to find most of these with top to bottom splits in them, although I had made deep grooves in them by impressing apple leaves into them, which have big central stems, and will have encouraged the clay to open.

the oak leaf and rose hip arrangement is one of the decorations I made for our feast; taken out of the hedgerow in Sharrington Road, the oaks are for us sea-going types (Hearts of Oak) and for the Bale oak ….

I will try some more saggar firing with some of these, but the pieces for Japan will be glazed. there will be some more split firings, I think.

(2 comments)

getting the boats home

Posted jane -->on 8th Nov 2009

the time has really come when its too cold to sail, for us old bones, even when the weather is as lovely as it has been this weekend. so Miss Muppet, Minnow, and Margie, and Spooner’s Barn’s tender all came home yesterday and today. Elsie has been in a field in Stiffkey for a few weeks now.

there was an enormous tide yesterday morning. the jetty where MM is moored was drowned at the height of it, and her crew had to strip her from the edge of the creek. twenty minutes later the top twelve inches had already been sucked out again, but there was enough water still on the marsh for Tilda to make a big mistake and end up swimming across what she had thought was a puddle.

MM‘s spaniels adored the high water and plunged straight in. Tilda is not so keen and her expression was a sight when she found herself out of her depth in cold water.

Skipper was in a hurry to get to the hard before too much water went out of the creek, and soon had her motoring off.

he got her onto the trailer and out of the mud onto the hard before there was any problem.

then it was Minnow‘s turn. she wasn’t in the water and she’s very light, easy to get onto the trailer, and now she’s tucked up in a cowshed for the winter.

last night we had a feast to celebrate/commiserate the end of the season, and a very jolly occasion it was. we all ate too much, drank just enough, and played darts (except me). MM‘s mate threw the winning number. we have plans for many more feasts and picnics next year.

(no comment)

amsterdam three – shopping

Posted jane -->on 7th Nov 2009

day four in Amsterdam. a trip to the Nordmarket flea market with mina perhonen. shopping and walking, hopping on and off the bus that runs up and down the Princes Graft, the first of the old canals near Tamago.

we found buttons, very useful, I got a bag full of big vintage plastic ones, suitable for hats,

and handmade paper made into books with wonderful shabby pieces of leather for covers, and a cord to tie them closed.

I bought three .. Akira and Naho bought quite a lot. the vendor gave them a couple of tiny books for free.

then we wandered off down some of the tiny back streets, near where I found this entrance on Saturday;

all very pretty, and we found a shop full of American forties and fifties industrial furniture down here.

perfect for the new addition to the Mina store in Kyoto.

the more Akira looked the more he added to the list of things to be shipped to Japan.

the young Dutch guy was quite taken aback, he hadn’t expected to sell everything so quickly.

Akira explained that they were going to make patchwork quilts and cushions from their fabrics, and this sort of furnishing would be perfect to show it off. to fit out a shop, it would not be so much really. of course shipping to japan is an expense, but in a shipping container, packed well, which the owner explained he would do himself ….. he was falling over backwards to be helpful.

after this excitement we walked back to Tamago, and I started my rather protracted trip home – the train back to Eindhoven turned out to be problematic, and it took me an hour longer than it should have, but the rest of the journey went smoothly. I was sad to leave my friends, but inspired by our weekend.

(1 comment)

goblin combe

after the snowstorm

into the wood

blue sky birchwoods

a wet walk

mud and birds

geese and beaches

porcelain

getting the boats home

amsterdam three – shopping

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