Starting to feel like autumn

The end-of-August Bank Holiday is here, families are getting ready for back-to-school, and autumn definitely feels just around the corner.

At Shipley Country Park earlier this week there were plenty of signs of the subtle slide towards winter.

 

The leaves crunching underfoot were mainly due to the drought rather than shortening days but seeds are drifting on the breeze, apples and plums ripening in the community orchard, and berries and nuts hanging on the trees. 

It's time to start thinking of harvesting allotment produce, of filling the freezer with tomatoes and blackberries as reminders of summer,  of hearty dinners made with brassicas and beans, and of spending rainy days indoors knitting. Maybe with luck there'll be a few more weeks of sunshine before that though.

 

Up Among the Heather

After our visit to Chatsworth last week, I wanted to head up to the moors above Baslow to see the heather in bloom.

It's only a few miles away, and stretches an afternoon trip out into an evening one instead of dashing home, There's a car park almost at the top - so no uphill walking involved - and I could see for miles around, with purple flowers underfoot and colouring the distant hillsides.

It was getting late in the day and although the sun was still shining it wasn't quite as fiercely as earlier, so cooler and pleasanter for walking. 

We walked south from the National Trust car park, following Baslow Edge with its weirdly shaped rock formations.

Looking back north, beyond the car park (hidden behind trees to the right) to Curbar Edge.

After a kilometer or so the edge starts to drop down towards Baslow village but a track leads east to Wellington monument, and then leads back in a straighter line across the moor. 

Somewhere in the middle distance is Chatsworth, though the house is hidden by trees.

This is the first time I've walked to the monument, and for some reason I was expecting something taller and grander. It seems quite modest.

The route back took us by the Eagle stone, which sits in the middle of moorland like it's just been dropped from space. 

I saw some people climbing it but even without going to that much effort the views are magnificent.

 The only thing to spoil the evening was our choice of day - every few yards along the path flying ants were struggling out of their nests and trying to take to the air.  It's a beautiful place to sit and watch the sun go down - but not with so many ants around!

Shady walk at Chatsworth

Keeping up with my latest exercise plan, I wanted to go out walking again but the weather was heating up again. I decided on a two-part afternoon - Chatsworth garden first, keeping under the trees, followed by a walk among the heather on Baslow Edge, at a time when temperatures would be dropping.

Chatsworth's huge Emperor Fountain isn't running constantly at the moment, because of the drought, but we were lucky enough to arrive during its afternoon 'performance slot'. With a light breeze blowing, the water drifted one direction, then another - even catching me standing on the bank, just out of tree cover. For a few seconds it was lovely and refreshing.

Then we walked on, up the beech avenue

to the urn which marks almost the limit of the garden in this direction.

From here there are views south over the wider estate, and back over the calm water of the Canal pond.

With 105 acres to play with, there's plenty of space for trees and shady spots in Chatsworth's garden. A path lined by different varieties of bamboo leads towards the Maze whose walls are currently lined by glorious agapanthus, like a blue wave crashing against the stonework.

I nipped out into the sunshine very quickly to take this close-up shot but then retreated to the shade, 

along a sunken path, 

then along the hillside, through the series of linked flowering spaces that make up Arcadia

Again, following this path it's possible to walk almost back to the exit while staying under the cover of the trees.

Outside though, it was hot. The flying horse sculpture reminded me that one day soon I must go back and discover the rest of the exhibits of the Burning Man exhibition out in the parkland. But that's for another, cooler, day! 

 

An unexpected patch of wildness on my doorstep

 At weekend I went walking up to the local wood. I don't often go these days because I find the walk up the playing fields, surrounded by housing, monotonous, but I'd come to the realisation that I'd stopped my (always rather erratic) exercise (too busy and the weather's been too hot), and needed to get out more. The wood itself has become quite depressing with branches now marking the paths we should keep to and off-piste exploration of the undergrowth actively discouraged. At the further side though I found an odd spot of delight and wildness. 

Farmers' fields used to lie between the wood and a busy A road, but one of these has already been built on and the other marked for future development. Meanwhile this latter is allowed to run wild. Last year I seem to think it was covered in the daisy-like flowers of wild chamomile - attractive to bees and other insects but scrubby and reminiscent of waste-land.

 This year, oats have appeared from somewhere. Maybe a wild variety, maybe some seed from previous crops. 

Whichever, there's something lovely about their pale cream heads wafting in an evening breeze, and contrasting sharply with the dark dried stalks of what I think is sorrel (something that as a child I knew as vinegar plant, and dared each other to eat).

Alongside the oats, other plants are colonising the field - bright yellow ragwort, teasels, a clump of metre-high seedlings from a nearby ash tree, and a buddleia that looked better than my garden shrub.

I don't imagine this area will stay this way for long - the builders will move in with measuring equipment and diggers and its magic be lost. For this summer though it's lovely.

Mishaps with a tent; not as prepared as I thought

A month ago we were packed and heading off to Timber festival. With Covid disrupting life, it had been a while since we'd stayed in the tent but I assumed I'd soon get the hang of it again. 

Preparation is important, especially after a gap, so we practiced putting up the tent and inflating the air-beds, and everything seemed fine. I practiced getting up off the floor. I dug out my alleged 'festival' clothes, varnished my nails, and was ready to go.

But thing didn't run to plan; I should have seen it as a sign when I realised about 10 minutes from home that I'd forgotten my hairbrush! We got there, put up the tent without too much trouble, went back to the car for a second load of clothes/inflatable beds/shoes, and everything seemed fine. But heading downhill to the festival proper I began to realise what a strain carrying things from car park to campsite had been. By half past eight I exhausted, and longing for a comfy bed. When we returned to the tent in the evening one of the beds had deflated, and even on the other I just couldn't settle so we decided to take the easy way out and go home for the night, returning in the morning.

 For a festival half an hour away from home this, while not ideal, proved a workable solution, but a couple of days later I received an invitation for ALSO festival. This wasn't an opportunity I wanted to pass up on, although being in Warwickshire there was no way I could nip home each evening.

 So ... we tested the beds again - this time actually sleeping on them for a night at home - and they were fine; they presumably just hadn't been closed properly. We were ready to go! Sort of.

I'm at stage of age and fitness (ie old and unfit) where I can't go out one weekend, exhaust myself, rest during the week, and be ready to go again the next weekend. ALSO luckily is one of the few festivals where you can drive your car onto the camping site, so no problems with carrying equipment this time. 

Unfortunately it left us a bit careless about choosing where to pitch the tent. While some of the campervans and glamping tents were on flat areas beside the actual festival site, tents were on a slope above. It didn't look too steep from the car, so we chose a spot with a view down to the main stage where we could just see the lake in the distance. Very pretty - if we'd been staying in the tent all weekend - but all the events, plus food and toilets were at the bottom of the slope, and what goes down has to come back up again. Remember my legs hadn't really recovered from the previous weekend (I saw small children running up and down quite happily); a bit more thought and planning would have improved our weekend a lot. 

So, there are lessons to be learned for another time, whether at festivals or on holiday, but I haven't been put off. I like the wildness, and back to nature vibe of staying in the tent, even when it's erected in manicured parkland, and I'm eager to try it on a slightly wilder campsite.

If you'd like to read about the actual festivals rather than my mishaps with a tent, follow the links below

Timber 

ALSO