Tuesday, 23rd. We were back to the Pafos area today, to Mandria, along the coast to the south east of the city, and then Ayia Varvara, inland from there. (Both are shown on the map in the first blog in this series.) But first we stopped again at yesterday’s bakery to buy lunch. Instead of buying one of their delicious pasties, my indulgence at the hotel at breakfasts and dinners had been such that I thought it sensible to buy a salad this time. The portion was nevertheless copious. Under the impression that we would be returning once more in the week, I intended to take a photo there, but we didn’t. Here, however, is its website, which shows that it has several other outlets.
Today we saw scarcely a soul as we meandered along the coastline.
Sea rocketHottentot figCrested larkFemale stonechatA kestrel posed for a long time…… until it didn’tSkylark
I enjoyed textural views on either side of the path.
After about a mile, we walked back to where we’d started, and used the chairs and tables of a beach bar, closed for the winter, to eat our lunches.
Eastern Bath White butterflyLucerne
Ayia Varvara (Saint Barbara) is an inland village, where we wandered along the side of a series of ponds managed for agricultural irrigation.
Red-veined darter dragonflyClump of eucalyptus trees
Paul spent much of his time turning over stones. He found many things of interest for us that way. “See the gecko?” “No, where is it?!” “On the stone by the millipedes.” “Er…”
Eastern bent-toed gecko
The books say it is delicately coloured. This was a very muddy gecko!
White wagtail
A threatening sky caused us to walk quite hastily back to the minibus.
Fortunately the rain held off long enough for most of the party to get off for a few minutes, on a road beside the Pafos sewage treatment works, where useful ornithological observations were made.
A very heavy rainstorm accompanied us for most of the hour-long drive back to our hotel.
Monday, 22nd (part 2) The final visit of the day, which started around 15.15, was, in my view, the best:
The geology group I’d been with had come here in 2009, and I was very happy to visit it again.
At the entrance I took a photo of the site plan, and a list of the areas. However on my camera screen, they were pretty useless – and these pictures below are just a small part of those two photos.
However, is clear to me now that I was basically in only the south east corner of the site; it is that which is mainly developed.
From 2009, I could remember only the House of Dionysos, which is not surprising, since I now know that much of the huge site has been excavated since that date, much of it by a Polish mission, and clearly much more remains to be un/dis-covered.
Here is just a small selection of the photos I took this time. I could have taken many, many more. I confess to having enhanced the colours of some of the mosaics very slightly, but not nearly as much as in this Wikipedia entry, which nevertheless is the best and most up-to-date (free online!) account of the whole site I can find.
With no useful plan available to me, I just followed the signposts to the House of Dionysos, built towards the end of the 2nd century CE, not far from the site entrance. (The names given to the Houses are of course contemporary, usually based on some dramatic mosaic found there.) It’s presentation had much changed. My 2009 photos show it with a comparatively temporary protective structure. And today’s raised walkways did not exist.
Narcissus, admiring his reflection in a lakeFrom a long panel about hunting
I have not enhanced the colours of this tiger here at all.
but here I have I amused myself imagining what it would be like if someone had just thrown a bucket of water over it.
“Phaedra and Hippolyta” “The Rape of Ganymede”Part of a long banner, illustrating Dionysos’s triumphal procession.
I left the building, and wondering what else I might see.
Here in the distance is the lighthouse where those who were interested in doing some more birdwatching were to forgather at 16.45. I doubted whether I would join them, with so much to explore.
It was quite frustrating at times to come across areas like this, presumably mosaics covered to protect them from the elements, sometimes with panels nearby with photographs and explanations. I think this was probably from the “House of Orpheus”.
By now, I was definitely in the ‘Villa of Theseus’, which looked extra good in the late sun, just a day after the winter solstice.
After the frustration of the covered mosaics, it was thrilling to be able to see this one of Theseus and the Minotaur, surrounded by a representation of the labyrinth.
It was possible to see this part of the site from a raised platform.
Recently restored, again by the Poles, is a small part of the House of Aion, the triclinium, the dining room.
More Dionysos, this time as a baby, sitting on Hermes’s lap.
I had not totally forgotten that I was on a wildlife trip, and was pleased to catch this male stonechat with my camera. It was by now past the meeting time for birdwatchers of 16.45, but I thought I might just go and seek them out if I could.
But I was literally sidetracked, by a right turn towards the ‘Fortress of Forty Columns’. This was the ruins of Byzantine fortress built at the end of the 12th century, badly damaged by earthquake a century later (the fate in various centuries of many of these ruins), itself built on the ruins of another one dating from the 7th century. The forty granite pillars used to reinforce it had been taken from Roman ruins in the city.
It was now too late to go in search of my companions – I could easily have missed them and got lost – so I made my way to the entrance and sat there until they came by.
With hindsight I should have done what I learned another of the party had done – left the site entirely and had a coffee at the harbour.
It had been a long day. Rather than rush around when we got back to the hotel, I chose, like some others, not to attend the log session, but to join them for a drink just a few minutes before dinner.
Monday, 22nd(part 1) History day – though that did not prevent those with eyes and ears to spot them making interesting wildlife observations – was a long day, not least because of heavy traffic in Pafos, (the spelling the Cypriots use in their transliterated alphabet). We were being driven around in our minibus by Andreas.
Our first stop was at Agios Neophytos, where in 1159 a hermit had installed himself in a small enlarged cave in the hillside. He had not remained alone for long; a small following increased over the centuries to make a fairly sizeable monastery. Internal photos sadly were not allowed, so I cannot share the Byzantine paintings in St Neophyte’s cell, or the splendours of the Eastern Orthodox chapel.
View from the balconySeen on the balconyMatching his surroundings, which were, I imagine, because they were inaccessible, and looked like cell doors, part of the present-day monks’ quarters
The building on the left below was a museum. I did not see at first the notice forbidding photography there, but I cannot of course share the pictures I took, including of some fascinating and for me completely undecipherable Byzantine music notation, still living and recognised by UNESCO as ‘intangible cultural heritage’.
Back at the car park, I watched this gentleman prepare food in the boot of his car for two waiting cats.
In Pafos itself, we stopped at an enormous baker’s shop, where we each chose elements for a packed lunch, then queued together at the till, where Phil picked up the total bill on behalf of Wildlife Travel. It was very tempting to be greedy!
Most of us found a good setting to eat those lunches at our next stop, the ‘Tombs of the Kings’, right on the coast at Pafos. The weather was pleasantly springlike all day – the forecast was right.
No kings were ever buried on this site; the tombs are thought to have been for high-ranking officials of the 3rd/4th century CE.
Having seen a few of the tombs, (I now know that I missed the best!) I wandered away sea-wards.
A look back towards the modern city.
My eyes were drawn to some small white things on the ground. They turned out just to be pieces of shell. But as a result I saw something no-one else did, and I couldn’t draw it to others’ attention – I was a long way from anyone by now.
Ants about a centimetre long were carrying small while flowers into their nest underground. I was so pleased to be able to record them unhurriedly, uncrowdedly, and with the time to make the right settings on my camera.
I was by now about as far from the entrance as I could have been, and chose to follow the perimeter fence back.
I never did discover what these plants were. They were everywhere, clearly bulbs, but I would love to have known what they would look like in a couple of months’ time!EDIT: Thanks to Bernard Liégeois in comments below who identifies them as Drimia maritima. The flowers look beautiful!
Later leaving the perimeter fence, I cut across hoping to see more tombs. Our gathering time was approaching.
I started panicking. Somehow I had missed the entrance and overshot it. I rushed and rushed, taking no more photographs.
No need to panic, I was not late and was not the last to arrive at the gate. But I was very out of breath.
This beauty was fast asleep there.
Our history day was far from over, but the best will have to wait until the next post…
Sunday, 21st. Eleven of the fourteen of us had arrived the day before, on four different flights, at Paphos/Pafos Airport, and one at Larnaka, and had reached by minibus and taxi the Aphrodite Beach Hotel, a few kilometres west of Polis, just beyond Latsi/Latchi, in the northwest of the island of Cyprus, on the Akamas Pensinsula. (What a headache for Wildlife Travel, the company organising it all!) I was the last to arrive, around 10 pm local time, two hours ahead of GMT. The four-and-a-half-hour flight had been tiring, but not nearly as much as had conversation with the voluble and strongly-accented driver for the best part of an hour. He had already made two similar journeys with others of the party earlier in the day. As I settled down for a late dinner with the main body of the group, who had arrived not long before me by minibus, I felt a little unsociable, needing to recover from the intense concentration my taxi trip had required.
I had in fact been in the Polis area before. In April 2009 I had been with the Open University Geological Society on a week’s field trip. We had stayed near Limassol on the south coast, and ventured mainly into the Troodos (pronounced Troh-ohdos) Mountains. I had stayed on, hired a car and spent two or three nights somewhere in the Polis area – can’t remember where – and then driven on to Nicosia where I had passed another two nights. Despite hundreds of (unlabelled) photos, I had only hazy memories of the stay, (I didn’t start this blog for another six years) except that I had much enjoyed walking the paths in brilliant sunshine and Goldilocks-right temperature.
We knew that Sunday’s weather did not augur well as we sat off on foot along the road westwards, to see what we could see. The company was two leaders, Phil, wildlife generalist and in overall charge, and Sarah, botanist extraordinaire. The 12 ‘guests’ were a couple, Paul and Barbara, (who had arrived in Cyprus three days earlier, and who would be returning to Bristol Airport a week later on the same flight as I would), one other man, and nine other women including me All, we agreed, were there to indulge our enjoyment of wildlife and nature, and to escape Christmas. All, as usual on these trips, had much greater wildlife knowledge than I did.
After an introductory session after breakfast on Sunday morning, (I should note that the food at the hotel was superb, including vegetarian) we set off on foot for the day. So we thought.
Everywhere we went there was ripe citrus fruit.
As usual I took many photos, but of only a small sample of what we/the others saw, and only a few of those are included in these posts The rains (it was green everywhere) had come late, so flowering was in arrears, as we learnt from Sarah. I tried to take notes whenever I took a photo. If a flower is not labelled hereafter, it’s because I failed to do so, or it’s obvious.
Musky storksbill(Of the mint family)This pretty snail was less than a centimetre in diameter.Distant kestrel
We were walking westwards along the main road, parallel to the sea . I looked back
Phil picked up the discarded exuvia – shedded external skeleton – of a cicada.
Like citrus, olive trees were everywhere.
The main road wasn’t exactly busy. (They drive on the left in Cyprus, a British legacy.)
We were making for a taverna where we would have coffee. I was straggling a bit, though Phil and a couple of others were behind me. This man was at the small gate of his house and invited me in. I protested politely that I couldn’t, I was part of a group. Phil caught up and said it was OK, joining me and a couple of others from the party. He had done this trip several times before.
It was quite dark inside, on a day that was becoming darker. (From the forecast, we had anticipated that the weather that day was to be the worst of our stay.) The man’s house, in which we stayed only a minute or two, was full of his collected oddities.
A turtle shell and cooking pans
The taverna was, predictably, named after Aphrodite, ‘Greek goddess of love, beauty and desire’, as we were nearing her alleged bathing place. We settled in covered outdoor seating but soon moved indoors as a blustery and rather chilly wind soon came up. While we were enjoying our coffees, (mine was a chilled cappuccino), it started pouring with rain, which caused us to stay perhaps rather longer than intended.
When it stopped we went on a hundred metres or so.
I had been here in 2009, but the walls and gates were clearly new. I was delighted to find this map, which showed the Aphrodite walk and the Adonis walk. I had done one of them in Spring 2009, but can’t remember which.
We made for the baths – what a disappointment! (This photo is not in black and white.)
It had looked like this 17 years earlier, in April.
Then it started to rain again, a full and enduring thunderstorm. No chance of exploring the botanical garden; we just made for shelter. After a while we decided to eat our packed lunches there.
After several “Let’s just wait ten minutes more”s from Phil, we decided to rush back to the taverna to wait it out there and to take further refreshment. I was not allowed to put my brolly up, because of the lightning.
Once in the warm, Paul and Barbara, the couple who had arrived a day or so earlier, suddenly remembered that there was a bus which could take us back along the road to the hotel, and that it was due to arrive in 20 minutes’ time. The taverna kindly allowed us to shelter meanwhile in their covered outside area.
This had been the view from it two hours earlier, Troodos Mountains in the background.
This was it now.
The bus arrived, at this its terminus, after ten minutes. We made a dash for it. (It’s not easy taking a photo when you’re running.)
We were happy to await the remaining ten minutes before departure in the dry and warm.
The driver kindly deposited us at the gate of the hotel, rather than 100 metres along the road at the official stop, and one of the hotel’s many cats greeted us at the door.
I have no idea how I passed the rest of the afternoon, except that it was in my very pleasant room. Listening to podcasts perhaps, reading, perusing photos. At 6.30 we all gathered in the bar to complete our log of nature, animate and inanimate, seen that day, using a checklist provided in advance by Wildlife Travel.
This cat was on a chair needed by a human being in the circle we made, so I gently lifted her up, speaking nicely to her, and she stayed on my lap for the next hour until I had to abandon her to go into dinner. (Two days later, I felt very privileged when she actually jumped up onto my lap during our ‘log’ session, and stayed there likewise until I had to move.) I felt a bit guilty, thinking of my three in their cattery.
Wherever you go in Cyprus there are well cared for cats – and I can’t resist taking pictures of them…
A short while ago a kind friend in France asked me whether I was OK, since I had not posted for a while. My reply to her was that I was fine thank you, indeed had been pretty active, but had not been doing anything that would produce narrative with photo accompaniment. So I’m just posting a miscellaneous collection of one-off photos I’ve taken in the last couple of months.
In checking over my diary since I last posted, I find, among other things, that I: have been to the cinema to see films three times, and to the same place to see an Exhibition on Screen (Caravaggio) and a National Theatre Live (Mrs Warren’s Profession); been to a talk at the County Museum in Taunton; been to live theatre in Bath; taken part in two all-day music workshops in Gloucestershire and Devon, and two domestic music-makings; and attended two book talks and signings, two wildlife talks, a further tree walk, this time in Glastonbury, and two one-man shows, one in Bristol, and one in London.
Few of these led to photographs. But here anyway are a miscellany of snaps, in a miscellany of settings, I have taken in the last few weeks, mainly with my phone.
‘Cattens’ Jingle and Jody each blaming the other. But note whose paw is on the wool.A trip to Birmingham by train for lunch on New Street station was in order to have lunch with schoolfriend Hazel, here modelling for scale. Ozzy was created for the 2022 Commonwealth Games, rescued from the knacker’s yard by public acclaim, and then named after the local singer.
I visited The Newt in Somerset on a freezing cold but brilliant sunny afternoon, and concentrated on the seasonal garden.
Lifesize copy of the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens
I had to take a load of photos to accompany my application to Octopus Energy for them to instal solar panels. Now just waiting permission from the national grid to go ahead.
I was invited by Somerset Wildlife Trust to visit their Catcott Reserve in the company of other supporters and a couple of experts.
When I went to London, I stayed in a hotel in Ealing Broadway, scene of my childhood and youth. I had not visited it since my parents moved away from the area over 50 years ago, and I certainly would not have recognised it. This was the view from my window at 2 am.
Paddington Bear at Paddington station
My live theatre visit was to Bath, by car and Park and Ride bus. A travel victim last year of horrific Christmas shopping crowds, I allowed plenty of time before the show, and wandered around taking a few, largely unsuccessful, (too many people) photos, then partook of an excellent glass of wine at Vino Vino.
The Assembly RoomsBath AbbeyThe two-person, three-musician, show was in the Ustinov Studio, part of the Theatre Royal. I just wish I had read the synopsis more thoroughly first.
During the day, the Park and Ride bus leaves the centre every 15 minutes, reduced to 30 minutes in the evening. Sadly one had gone just five minutes before I arrived back at the bus stop. (At least it does run all evening. Until recently it stopped at 20.30, which meant I could attend only matinees.)
It was by now pretty chilly, so rather than just perching on the bench, I wandered around a little more, the crowds all gone by now.
In a few days’ time, I shall be going to Cyprus on a wildlife holiday for a week. So blogging will be more frequent, much more frequent, in January!
The header picture is of part of the Glastonbury Thorn tree from which, by tradition, a flowering (sic) sprig will be cut and placed on the King’s breakfast table on Christmas Day.
A few days ago I went on an organised Tree Walk in Wells, under the auspices of the Wells Environmental Network. It was led by Matt Witt, who more frequently leads such walks in my own home town, so I must look into that. Matt describes himself as a poet, artist and tree lover. During the course of the walk he treated us to the recital of two relevant poems, one of them dating from the 16th century, translated from the Polish.
What follows is not a definitive guide to the trees! If I had not had gloves on, and had had a notebook with me, I would have made more notes. Should anyone, especially Matt, (who did ask to see my photos!) wish to correct or add anything to what I have written, please do so in comments, and I will amend the original text as necessary. Moreover, my camera found itself pointing leftwards towards the walls of the Bishop’s Palace, on which I have blogged before, almost more than it did to the subjects of the outing.
It was grey day, but autumn colour brightened things up considerably. Walkers were to meet at the gate to the Palace, where it was fun to see the trained swans ringing the bell for food. The youngsters are learning, though one – there’s always one – is not paying any attention.
The walk mainly took place along the SW and SE walls and moat of the Palace. The group continued to Tor Hill Woods, but I had to leave early.
As we set off, to our left were Norway maples.
A short diversion into the Wells Recreation Ground revealed a row of plane trees, of decreasing girth, for which there could be various explanations.
Matt pointed out the differences between the leaves of Norway maple (left) and plane. I remembered that I had a Norway maple in my garden in France. I do hope that my purchasers respected it.
A Western redcedar, thuya plicata – except that it is not a cedar but a cupressus, one of many examples Matt gave us of confusing and conflicting denominations of trees between the UK and the US.
Another tree very definitely not a native. This is a Dawn Redwood, or Water Fir, whose name, including in Latin, I have only been able to recover thanks to my tree book. Metasequoia glyptostroboides, believed to have been extinct for millions of years, until 1941, when100 large specimens were found in China. This one was planted probably about 40 years ago. (My tree book – 1981 – says ‘Because the tree is a recent introduction [to the UK] …. few specimens are yet old enough to bear flowers and cones’. Well, here some flowers, 44 years on! The entry also says that, while the tree does well in England, the climate in Scotland is too cool for it to grow well. I wonder if that is still the case?*)
Matt pointed out the smooth bark of the beech, and someone commented that it was a shame that its very smoothness encouraged graffiti.
In an adjacent field to the east was this brave survivor of Dutch elm disease. (Sorry, that’s a bit anthropomorphic.)
We spent quite a while at this lime, with its characteristically drooping branches.
And my camera was still pulling me towards the moat.
The ivy on the near wall was very near to flowering.
Another disease afflicting British trees, its onset more recent than that attacking elms, is ash die-back. In addition the ash tends to lose its leaves early, so this tree looked rather sad, having lost not only many leaves but several branches.
There is no path along the eastern wall of the Palace gardens. We went straight on.
The trunk of this beech is not smooth. Matt explained that it had for long years had barbed wire attached to indicate a boundary. That barbarous (sorry – that’s me, not Matt!) practice has now been discontinued.
It was time for me to leave the group as it reached the road to reach Tor Hill Woods, and I turned back. I had noticed this mosaic on the way, and took a moment or two to examine it further. It is the Worminster Dragon Mosaic.
My camera continued to pull moatwards, and particularly to draw my attention to reflections.
Parent swans seem to look in anticipation at the bellpull.
I dallied little at the market as I made my way back to my car.
Yes, I must look into tree walks in Glastonbury.
*An internet search says there are some, but not necessarily doing very well.
From the on-time sundial, I meandered in due course back to the house, where I had a cup of coffee and a piece of apple cake. Whereas entrance fees to gardens open under the National Garden Scheme (NGS) go initially to their funds, and onwards to annually selected charities, takings from refreshments at each place go to a charity of each owner’s choice, in this case, I understand, and not surprisingly, West Dorset Wilding, a cause I was very happy to support (and the cake was delicious).
On my way to the car park, I met again the young lady collecting the entrance fees, but also a woman visiting from the NGS. We had quite a long chat, in the course of which I was able to recommend to her Forest Lodge Gardens and she was able to tell me that Slape Manor was also lovely in the Spring. I shall look out for openings in a few months’ time (how lovely to be thinking of spring already, as the very fringes of Storm Amy attack Somerset this minute – and I think we’re getting off lightly) and then will hope to be able to join a guided tour to learn more about the wilding plans.
In which in due course I leave the woodland and spend time in the developing kitchen garden (with more flowers than food) and enter a more formal area, continuing to enjoy the effects of low autumn sunlight, and shade. (The background to this visit is in Part 1.)
Is the clock right? Yes, allowing for British Summer Time, it is. Just gone 2.30.
Last week, I made my latest National Garden Scheme visit. From the requested contribution, 50% more than I had ever encountered under the scheme before, I knew it was going to be a grand one. When I arrived, after an hour’s drive, I was informed that I had just missed a guided tour – I did not know that there would be any. I might catch it up, or the next one would be in 70 minutes’ time. I decided just to wander around on my own.
Visitors were allowed to take photos, but were asked to avoid taking any of the house (not open to visitors – this is a garden scheme after all). The house was magnificent, as this link to it’s property details from 2017 shows. (They reveal that Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s original River Cottage was in the grounds.) The description of the land, though, is out of date. For instance, the swimming pool has gone. The present owners took the property over in 2020, and are in the process of rewilding, and are, as far as I can see, prime movers in West Dorset Wilding.
I knew none of that detail as I went round. Despite avoiding views of any part of the house (the grounds were so huge that that was not difficult) I still managed to take 140 photos. Deleting duffs and being rigorous has got the number down to about 100, but rather than forcing myself to omit more of them, this account will be in three parts. The pictures are in the order I took them, as I wandered through woodland, parkland, a kitchen garden and a few small flower beds. I started at the west side of the house and followed – broadly – a huge U-shaped wander round the grounds. The river flowing through the grounds is the Brit (sic) named for, rather than naming, the nearby town of Bridport.
It was a calm and sunlit afternoon, just after the autumn equinox, affording shadows and contrasting light – and I scarcely saw a soul as I strolled. I hope that any readers may experience some of the joy that I felt.
And I finish this first part with a short video, more for its sound than its image.
This was the name of the tour organised three days ago by The Newt in Somerset, (about which I have blogged many times), in glorious weather while other parts of the UK were being buffeted by strong winds and heavy rain.
We were greeted at 9.30 at the Cyder Bar with coffee and very sticky cinnamon buns. Tom, the Newt’s entomologist, greeted us and led us first to this temporary display of plants, in the shape of a newt, from The Newt’s Karoo Garden display at this year’s Chelsea Flower Show, of which they have been sponsors for the last few years. These plants are to go on sale very shortly – I shall hope to buy three of them. The rest of the exhibit will be housed in a geodesic dome, yet to be built. I learned this time that it will be in the Deer Park area.
Tom led as towards the kitchen garden.
To reach it we went under the tunnel where every year are grown a variety of gourds. Now is the time to see them, and here are a few!
The kitchen garden did not look itself! Here was a tent, set up for the harvest celebrations which were to happen over the coming weekend.
Tom had set up a moth trap just inside the kitchen garden the previous evening, but he feared that the lights from the tent would have discouraged the moths from entering it and that it might be empty. Sadly he was right.
and here was an example of the ridged cultivation.
I already knew that the reason the South African billionaire had bought this enormous estate from the Hobhouse family 12 years ago was his huge admiration for the work of nurse Emily Hobhouse in the Boer War over a century previously. I knew also that the discovery of Great Crested Newts had delayed its development by 18 months and had led him to name the property ironically after the creature. But I did not know that it was to have been called the Emily Estate, or that the kitchen garden had formerly been a lake, and that it was here that the said newts had been found. Nor that the very natural-looking lake down the hill had been created to house those newts. That said there are still newts in the tamed pond in the kitchen garden.
And it looked mighty odd to see one of those ponds under canvas!
I had never before seen this insect hotel. It has been there for a couple of years, but I had not walked along that particular path.
Our group of about a dozen included a little three-year-old girl. I confess to having been very dubious at the outset about the suitability of such a young person being on this three-hour tour. But she did fabulously, leaving with her father only 30 minutes early, and now brought this to show Tom!
He excused himself from being able to identify exactly which this was of the 40+ UK species of slug on the grounds that, while he was gradually developing from being an entomologist into an ecologist, slugs were not insects! That said he was very interesting on the general subject.
More gourds…
… and an amazing one – about one foot/30 centimetres in diameter.
I just adore begonias, whether the leaf-interest or the mainly flower-interest ones.
Temporary harvest-time visitor.
It was to the Parabola next, and its hundreds of varieties of apple. I have taken many photos of this in other posts, and this post is very long, so I’ll not say much here. But I did learn that, as I had wondered many times before, there being some 40 counties of the UK delineated and labelled here, each really does display its own cultivars.
Moreover, Tom invited us to pick and take away as many apples as we wanted, and to tell our friends the same. The gardeners were going to have to pick all those left shortly, and they were not going to be used by The Newt. Despite having a glut in my own garden I did take one large one from ‘Gloucestershire’, and have today enjoyed it baked.
As we returned to the Cyder Bar area, I looked back over the Parabola.
We moved out of the way of an approaching small bus.
I was amused at its ancient Roman insignia, Senatus Poplulusque Romanus. Presumably the bus is used to take people from there along to the Roman Villa!
What I hadn’t realised was that it had arrived to take us through confined part of the Deer Park, where it was too dangerous at this time of rutting to be near the Red Deer (not that we saw any).
We were being taken to the Red Squirrel Enclosure. Whaaaat?!
Just eight days earlier three young female red squirrels had arrived, captive-born from Wildwood in Kent. The enclosure – the design of which had involved Tom – had been swept of grey squirrels, an American import about 150 years ago, which had done so much harm as the carrier of a disease which did not affect them but did kill reds. For now the three were in a pen, getting used to their surroundings. In due course they would be released into their wider area, but never into the park as a whole, because of those greys. Visits by the public would be on an accompanied basis. We were the very first to see them and must be very quiet. The three-year-old was brilliant.
I wanted to know the length of the perimeter fence – I’m sure Tom would have known – but I had already been asking far more than my fair share of questions, so I kept stumm. I would guess around 500 metres.
And there they were, sunning themselves,
one moving on to show off her shadow.
As we moved back, Tom pointed out some hedgehog houses. It is not normally allowed for hedgehogs to be kept in captivity, but these were 11 congenitally blind females, who would not have survived in the wild. They had come from a hedgehog rescue society. One female may have arrived pregnant. It would be fascinating to know, if so, whether her hoglets were blind as well.
After a visit to the Marl Pits,
and its stumpery,
we made our way to the main woodland area, seeing on the way part of the Deer Park and the squirrel compound. The road along which we had been driven can just be seen, along with the edge of the compound.
At the other end of the wood was a steep climb – and hundreds of fallen green crab-apples.
We made our way back round a familiar path, not stopping much now as time was moving on,
but a visit to the wyvern was obligatory, as was a photo.
A higher view of the kitchen garden’s temporary dressing, and our visit was over, a good time had by all, with many thanks to Tom.
I took a few photos of the plants lining the pathway back to the car park,
not missing, as I had on the way in, these temporary celebrants of the harvest at the entrance.
Some in the group had not visited The Newt before. Two were celebrating their third wedding anniversary, and two were on their way from Norfolk to a holiday on the south coast and had stayed in the area the night before. It seems they were impressed but what they had seen – and there was much more for a future visit. Indeed, every time I go there is something new, if only a change of season.
Musiewild's blog 