![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_poppyFresh air is a remarkable thing! And the feeling of a path beneath one's feet, the play of sunlight on one's shoulders, the scent of grasses and blossoms, all of these are marvels after the routines of a school year indoors.
I left the castle on Thursday on foot and walked as far as my own legs would take me. It was a glorious day, and so good to feel that I had earned my sleep when night fell.
On Friday, the holiday was over! That was a day for quick jumps hither and yon in an attempt to lump all of my commercial stops into one (rather frantic) day's journey. First, I had a quick visit Dover-ward with Melchior Culpeper, my mentor and one of this nation's leading herbal medicinalists; and then there was a rather longer than I would have wished (always, always, this is true!) stop in Shrewsbury for Saracen's Sweetwater Lozenges, which one can only procure there and in person. (Would that the proprietor were notsuch an odious little man so chatty.) I scarcely made it to Heligan by tea time, but it was fortunate that they were ready for me and able to provide me all I needed in short order. I could have stayed over in Cornwall, I suppose, but I wanted to make an early morning of it, so I managed one last Apparition to end the day in Northumberland.
Yesterday was Saturday--I'm already finding it difficult to keep track!--and the beginning of my collecting expedition. I had pitched camp near the old wall, just alongside the rubbled remains of a Roman fortification (or so I learned from the rather faded signs--here a hypocaust, there a principia--stuck up amongst the nearly overgrown foundation walls). As the sun rose over the ruins, I was powerfully reminded how civilisations wax and wane, how time and weeds overtake even the greatest works of mortals, how one must seize the day and so on.
But it was the weeds and not the stones that were my business, as it were, so I shouldered my pack and mounted my broom to skim the wall in search of the krumpustles nestling between its ancient stones. Once I had collected my quotient of these rock fungi, I took the opportunity to fly nearer the coast, where I was very fortunate to find a small colony of one of the rarest of Northern plants, the Coralroot Orchid (Corallorhiza trifida). It was for just this sort of find that I decided to pack two stasis cases. I trust that the specimens will arrive in fit condition for replanting in Sprout's greenhouses at the school. Pomona, when you send the owl back, do let me know whether they were in reasonable condition.
And so we come to today, which I devoted to my first real adventure: searching out the Chillingham herd to collect its droppings and the uniquely potent knotgrass fertilised by it. I'm not certain how widely known the Chillingham Cattle are in the wider world, but they are a truly special wild herd of beasts native to this country that have never been domesticated or cross-bred with other cattle. Since the 13th century, they have been protected on the Chillingham estate. Some, of course, may be familiar with the dark, latter-day history of the estate and its owners, the Earls of Tankerville, the last of whom died as a blood traitor in 1980, after which the estate and its magical herd passed into the control of the Duke of Northumberland, who has been most kind in granting my petition to collect materials from the Chillingham preserve. The Chillingham Cattle are a dangerous breed, not at all accustomed to contact with humans; however, there I was, broom-back, with my satchels and snips and shovel, zooming about and trying not to attract attention from my very large, horned hosts.
All went well, as you may guess by my having lived to tell this tale at such length. I trust that all of you are enjoying these lovely summer days as much as I am.
Pomona: you should expect several parcels by owl tomorrow, courtesy of the Duke of Northumberland's steward.
I left the castle on Thursday on foot and walked as far as my own legs would take me. It was a glorious day, and so good to feel that I had earned my sleep when night fell.
On Friday, the holiday was over! That was a day for quick jumps hither and yon in an attempt to lump all of my commercial stops into one (rather frantic) day's journey. First, I had a quick visit Dover-ward with Melchior Culpeper, my mentor and one of this nation's leading herbal medicinalists; and then there was a rather longer than I would have wished (always, always, this is true!) stop in Shrewsbury for Saracen's Sweetwater Lozenges, which one can only procure there and in person. (Would that the proprietor were not
Yesterday was Saturday--I'm already finding it difficult to keep track!--and the beginning of my collecting expedition. I had pitched camp near the old wall, just alongside the rubbled remains of a Roman fortification (or so I learned from the rather faded signs--here a hypocaust, there a principia--stuck up amongst the nearly overgrown foundation walls). As the sun rose over the ruins, I was powerfully reminded how civilisations wax and wane, how time and weeds overtake even the greatest works of mortals, how one must seize the day and so on.
But it was the weeds and not the stones that were my business, as it were, so I shouldered my pack and mounted my broom to skim the wall in search of the krumpustles nestling between its ancient stones. Once I had collected my quotient of these rock fungi, I took the opportunity to fly nearer the coast, where I was very fortunate to find a small colony of one of the rarest of Northern plants, the Coralroot Orchid (Corallorhiza trifida). It was for just this sort of find that I decided to pack two stasis cases. I trust that the specimens will arrive in fit condition for replanting in Sprout's greenhouses at the school. Pomona, when you send the owl back, do let me know whether they were in reasonable condition.
And so we come to today, which I devoted to my first real adventure: searching out the Chillingham herd to collect its droppings and the uniquely potent knotgrass fertilised by it. I'm not certain how widely known the Chillingham Cattle are in the wider world, but they are a truly special wild herd of beasts native to this country that have never been domesticated or cross-bred with other cattle. Since the 13th century, they have been protected on the Chillingham estate. Some, of course, may be familiar with the dark, latter-day history of the estate and its owners, the Earls of Tankerville, the last of whom died as a blood traitor in 1980, after which the estate and its magical herd passed into the control of the Duke of Northumberland, who has been most kind in granting my petition to collect materials from the Chillingham preserve. The Chillingham Cattle are a dangerous breed, not at all accustomed to contact with humans; however, there I was, broom-back, with my satchels and snips and shovel, zooming about and trying not to attract attention from my very large, horned hosts.
All went well, as you may guess by my having lived to tell this tale at such length. I trust that all of you are enjoying these lovely summer days as much as I am.
Pomona: you should expect several parcels by owl tomorrow, courtesy of the Duke of Northumberland's steward.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 10:35 pm (UTC)I think I mentioned I was off to see my family over the weekend. They're fine, and my mother sends her regards for that ointment we'd talked about - she says it's working a treat. My new nephew's quite adorable.
Do continue to post what you're doing as you get a chance - I find I'm quite missing our chats all of a sudden, and these journals are certainly better than owls back and forth all the time.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 11:35 pm (UTC)I do miss having your level head and knowledgeable brain to consult. And your good company.
I'm awfully glad to hear that all is well with your family. Tell your mother for me that she ought to continue the ointment for a full fortnight after the stiffness leaves her. Many folks forget once they are no longer reminded by the discomfort, and then it creeps up on them again.
I am filling my notebook with drawings, some of them more successful than others, so take care how you encourage me!
Do be well. I shall think of you tonight as I enjoy this new moon and my unobstructed view of all the stars overhead.