On the Black Hill

The Vision was an outlying farm on the Lurkenhope Estate. The tenant had died in 1896, leaving an old unmarried sister who had carried on alone until they fetched her to the mad house.
In the yard, a young ash-tree reared its trunk through the boards of a hay-wagon. The roofs of the buildings were yellow with stonecrop; and the dungheap was overgrown with grass. At the end of the garden stood a brick-built privy. Amos slashed down the nettles to clear a path to the porch.
They went into the kitchen. The plaster was flaking and the flagstones had grown a film of slime. Twigs from a jackdaw's nest up the chimney were choking the grate. He slipped an arm around her waist and said 'Could you live in this?' 'I could' she said, turning to face him, as he knotted his hands in the small of her back.
Rearing up like a barrier over the gentler countryside of Herefordshire, a ridge marks the border with wild Wales. The highest point is the Black Hill, which name was used by the late lamented Bruce Chatwin in his novel 'On the Black Hill', a book of twos ....twin brothers, two countries, two smallholdings (The Vision and The Rock), two religions, two wars.
He said that it could have been set "anywhere between South Shropshire and Monmouthshire", but I like to think of it in the valleys either side of the Black Hill - Golden Valley in England and the Vale of Ewyas in Wales, with the towns of Hay-on-Wye at the northern tip and Abergavenny to the south.
This is sheep country, and it's shearing season. Welsh border collies round up the sheep, bringing them down from the mountain, and skilled shearers travel from farm to farm on piece work. The sheep from the lower slopes are done first (as it's warmer down there) and those from the tops are done last.
Streams run down the slopes into the valleys, with grey wagtails and dippers catching the plentiful bugs above (and below) the water. The streams flow into the Usk, Monnow and Wye - beautiful rivers all.

The chapel at Capel-y-ffin, a mile along the track from The Vision.Goldfinches

We've visited the Welsh side of the mountain for many years now, but I've wanted to see the Golden Valley side. On the OS map was marked 'PH' in the lee of the Black Hill, in the hamlet of Craswall. With a thirst to quench, my needs were few and the exterior looked rough, but the welcome was warm, the food excellent and the beer superb. It's a place to search out if you're near.

Whinless Down

Whinless Down is a downland ridge leading inland from Dover, above Elms Vale. It's managed by the White Cliffs Countryside Project, and I'd never been there, so it was time for a visit.
It's name does not mean 'windless' - indeed it was quite draughty at the top.

I didn't expect much....just a piece of open downland close to town, with the standard chalk species, but I was surprised by the variety. Some of the area is wooded and is being cleared in stages to provide different growth habitats. Part of the woodland includes oak trees which have seeded up the hillside (becoming more stunted as they ascend).

Also, a thin layer of clay-with-flints overlying the chalk has enabled acid-loving plants like dyers' greenweed to flourish here.
There is also a thriving community of cypress spurge, an attractive member of the family that is only dotted around the county.

Large skipper on cypress spurge

Another plant struck me in one of those 'cool, what the heck is that?' moments. From the books it seems to be crown vetch, a bushy plant that is probably an escape or an introduction, growing right at the top of the hill.
Not many birds around at the moment, as they are busy doing other things. The in-laws have kept their feeders filled and have attracted a wide clientele:

Wood pigeon (they have also had turtle doves visiting)

Jay

A great spotted woodpecker feeds his youngsters, who sit in an old plum tree nearby - unfortunately the red-heads kept away from the camera

Plenty of finches (including chaffinches) come down to the ground feeder

and as we know, water is very important too (as is a lack of cats).

The Old Straight Track

An old road connected the Roman ports of Dubris (Dover) to Rutupiae (Richborough), following a line that is almost exactly magnetic south to north [it may even have been exactly when it was built - who knows?] Parts are still paved today, built up over the years, while most of the rest is visible as paths or tracks.

Near West Langdon a wood has grown over part of the route and the path skirts around it, but in the wood the old straight track can still be seen, between banks at each side.
In the prairie fields of this area, tractors carve their own straight tracks to the horizon.

Poppies follow the imaginary line between two fields, unmarked by fence or hedge, near Napchester.And clouds form their own ley lines in the sky.....

Shakespeare is full of surprises

Shakespeare Cliff rears up on the west side of Dover, and is not often walked as it is largely cut off by the new A20 dual carriageway and the Aycliff estate.
The first sight of the channel for travellers through Dover is from that road, over the cliff to France. They are welcomed to Dover by a large smiley face painted on one of the ventilation shaft chimneys from the railway line below.

Named Shakespeare Cliff after its mention in King Lear, it could also be one of the many claimants on the name of Dickens, as it is thought that Betsy Trottwood's house in David Copperfield was sited here.
The grass is rather too long for a good show of downland plants, but I was pleased to find one of my favourites, Nottingham catchfly, which I've previously found on the other side of the town.
In both sites, the plant clings onto the very edge of the cliff, and either shuns or is pushed out of more comfortable places.

Glaucous sedge

The new road cut through a swathe of downland, but as I commute along it daily I have to admit to getting the benefit of it - I also commuted on the old roads before it was built, and accept that the vast increase in European freight traffic over the past decade would not have been possible without it. Sometimes the volume of traffic is delayed by weather conditions, French fishermen or some other event, so I frequently have the opportunity of studying the roadside vegetation from the traffic jam.

There is a small patch of meadow towards the town that is full of flowers...common spotted orchids, yellow rattle, hawkbits, clovers and soon-to-emerge poppies.

Also a few spindly stalks of pale flax.

Below the cliffs runs one of the most expensive railway lines in the country - as well as the Eurostar Channel Tunnel rail-link. This one is constantly subject to cliff-falls and other hazards, and must be a nightmare to keep going.
The footpath down to the beach brings a smile to the face, as the walls are covered with rock samphire, alexanders and sea kale - all freely available to be harvested by the locals, but ignored because they are not available shrink-wrapped in the supermarkets.

We're a long way from Shakespeare's time, when Edgar looks down from the top of the cliff and says

How fearful and dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low.
The crows and coughs that wing the midway air show scarce so gross as beetles.
Half-way down hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!

Now the stuff is growing on the path, ignored by potential samphire-gatherers (except me, and very tasty it was too, in an omelette for lunch).
A final surprise - Nottingham catchfly also growing among the litter on this little-used path to the beach.

~ A ringed plover's scrape is his castle ~

Walking along Sandwich Bay beach road, I heard a ringed plover call nearby. I wouldn't have seen it if it had stayed quiet.
It seemed to have become attached to an impressive sandcastle. Clearly a bird with aspirations.
Is this a reflection on the state of the housing market in this area - even larger homes are becoming affordable to those who have a deposit.

Good to see small blues on the rifle range, which means that they are along a stretch of beach that is 1½ miles long, rather than just confined to the main site. There's plenty of kidney vetch here, so the colony may increase if conditions are favourable.

Elsewhere - a handsome moth, the name of which I know not. Probably called something like common mottle or some such (I have little respect for the names of moths - there are so many that inspiration seemed to run out early).
As it's June, it's time to lurk in the woods at dusk, waiting for the 'wart' of roding woodcock and the 'churr' of nightjars at King's Wood. None of the former, but a good display by a couple of nightjars, flying over us a few times as the light faded. I expect they were attracted by SteveR's morris dance.
Sharp-eyed readers (where?) may have noticed the tilde in the title. This is a warning sign to young Kingsdowners that there is a picture of a snake, slow worm, lizard or other wiggly beast, the sight of which might send them screaming. So you have been warned. This is a nice little harmless grass snake, found under a casually-turned refugia (refugium?).

I refuse, however, to put an asterisk * if a picture of a spider is displayed. You know who I mean, you wuss.