Season of mists

We walked up to Barber Wood this morning, with cobwebs lining the track that rises gradually across the contours above Coldwell Bottom. The mist all but obscured the pylons on the skyline the other side of the Churn Valley, which normally take so much away from one of my favourite Gloucestershire views.

"When Chris shall come..."

Another funeral at St Gregory's, the second within a week. Today's affair was rather less meaningful, I felt. The feeling started during the entrance hymn, "How Great Thou Art" when (as prompted by the service sheet - replenished with typos throughout) I found myself about to sing "When Chris shall come..." The deceased, who often had a twinkle in his eye, would perhaps have joined in the giggles.

"How great thou art" comes to mind also when I walk in or near Coldwell Bottom. Not for the first time has it featured to illustrate a freeranger post. Despite too much conifer planting and the distant pylons beyond the Churn valley, this beautiful view often remains the one I'm drawn to when - as this morning - obliged to take over the dog run.

Christmas walk

Like last year, but along a slightly different trajectory, we looked over the curve of Coldwell Bottom during the course of our Christmas walk. The six of us parked at Pinkham on a beautiful morning, three walking all the way home.

This was after a lateish breakfast: we had been to Midnight Mass - the two of us, plus all four of our (normally non-church-going) children, two with appendages. The experience gave rise to much discussion.

Unlike the Queen's Speech at 3 p.m. We all listened, but some with less than the fullest attention. A pity, as it was good.

PS Lawrence Freeman OSB wrote as follows in The Tablet later:

The Queen knows where she belongs. When she spoke her Christmas message, it resonated from more than a geographical place. It touched the soul of a people she had served for 60 years. She had seen great changes – “many of them for the better”, as she said. She was looking backwards… but… she also looked forwards, not predicting what would come but with a hope born of a personal vision not of statistics or planning. Not many monarchs or other leaders have spoken recently from such a place of faith, rooted in such a defined cultural and geographical identity... It was not a sermon. Perhaps she has heard enough of those. It was more like a teaching, carrying an authority that rested on its ability to clarify and advise without any feeling of imposition. 

His disciples once asked a desert father on his deathbed how they should live. He replied that he had always made up his mind, whenever he had asked any of them to do something, not to be angry if they did not do it. “And so we have always lived in peace.” The Queen’s rather similarly toned message to the people she has served was wrapped in the reflections of a grandmother, the head of the Commonwealth and of the armed forces. We saw a baby being photographed, sportsmen running and soldiers in action. But between these images was the real message – to take time to pause and regain the “balance between action and reflection” that the intense distractedness of our culture has lost us. Temporary retreat from the world allows us to understand the world better, and the essential values of family, friendships and good neighbourliness come back into focus. 

The generic, safely non-religious, word for this in a secular society is the rather neutral “reflection”. The Queen used this, but drew from an older and richer vocabulary too when she spoke of “contemplation, prayer and meditation”. Reflection, she said, did not mean only looking back. Whoever takes time to pause in the midst of activity, to be still in these moments of contemplation, may discover “surprising results”. 

In the light of the Christian mystical tradition, this is, of course, a very English understatement. But who is better able to deliver a powerful message with such a throwaway, inoffensive line? What lay behind it, however, was wrapped in the talk of the new baby who had been inducted into a “joyful faith of duty and service”. The teaching ended in an explicit link between the need for this space for prayer in modern life and the love of God, which we find there and in which we grow. And without blinking, she reminded us of the staggering truth that nothing is beyond the reach of this love. 

It is rare in our culture for a sincere statement of such clarity and depth to be made at all, and especially rare for it to be made so convincingly.

Christmas walk

The rain having lifted, we had a perfect Christmas morning walk, parking above Coberley, and completing the Woodland Trust (Barber Wood) triangle clockwise. Not much mud to speak of, though plenty of other walkers. (Coldwell Bottom is to the right of the photograph.)

Wraith willow

In this morning's bright sunshine, the trees along Coldwell Bottom took on a ghostly appearance. I often walk there, because it's peaceful, apart from the kennels over the hill, and the valley's appearance changes so much depending on the season. And it's a good way to work up an appetite when there's venison for lunch.

The Churn Valley

On Thursday morning, instead of my usual walk up the old track from Coberley towards Birdlip (shown in this photograph running from centre to bottom right), I found myself going round the edge of the big field to its North. This opens up a slightly different view. A long line of lime trees guards the field's road boundary, with Coberley village nestling in the trees beyond. Straggly Upper Coberley hides likewise in trees on the far side of the main Churn Valley. The two prehistoric tumps (just left of centre) look no older than the rusting farm machinery I passed in their lee. Beyond Coldwell Bottom, Bubb's Hill - in Elkstone Parish - presides on the right horizon. Behind me, hawthorn berries gleam in the sunshine, the Rosebay Willowherb - though no longer in flower - retains the attraction of its russet stems, and the Old Man's Beard shows promise for later on, when Autumn's colours have drained away. Unsurprisingly for October, I heard not a single bird.

Coldwell Bottom

At last Caroline has treated herself to some new boots (£16 in the Bath Road). So today was green welly baptism day up near Coberley: we braved the wind and rain to do my favourite walk, up the track past the prehistoric burial tumps to Barber Wood, round it and down along the edge of the great sweep that is Coldwell Bottom. And the question for discussion was, should the countryside be treated as a recreational playground?

Above Coldwell Bottom

We often walk here, above Coberley. It's a convenient triangle, a variety of scenery within a short space.

The Winter sun was shining this morning, the sheep casting unreally long shadows on the hillside flanking Coldwell Bottom. The plantation, which we saw going in when first we came to live in Cheltenham in 1994, is now serious woodland, the track up to it only partly chewed up by the mountain bikers. It's not as bad for walkers anyway as would be the adjacent fields.

But this was a tame walk bearing in mind what lies ahead for us: on Holy Saturday, we set out from Seville for Salamanca, the first half of the Via de la Plata: the second, to Santiago de Compostela, is planned for October.

Not only longer walks, therefore, but heavier weights than a camera need to be factored in regularly from now on!

Gloucs. and Herefs.

On Sunday morning, as a relief from babysitting, I was detailed to walk Rosie (our Springer spaniel – with not a lot of spring). So, I drove to the start of one of my favourite short walks, above and parallel with Coldwell Bottom towards Pinkham – as photographed – and up through Barber Wood. When we first came to live in Cheltenham, in October 1994, the Woodland Trust had just started to plant trees there: now it is beginning to look like a serious wood. It lies in the midst of some of the best limestone grassland, and I was able to admire the orchids (including a bee orchid – my first for a long while).

It will be interesting to compare and contrast the Cotswold countryside with that of Herefordshire, where we shall be spending the next two weeks – at a variety of locations: we had thought of going to France, but decided to stay nearer to home – for a variety of reasons! First, just to cover the remote possibility of someone wanting to buy our house, and to move in quickly, it will be good to be able to get home easily. Secondly, we need to walk the talk about reducing our carbon footprint; and thirdly, I have still to see the colour of my pension provider's money. More in a fortnight.