Landscape
Cargreen, A Place to Call Home
Below is a picture of Cargreen seen through the eyes of a resident who has only recently decided to make Cargreen her real home. [Ed]
The essence of a village
A bubble in time and space
Many stories in one image
An echo of twirling grace
A queen in a silken gown
Shining through the veils
A king who doesn't need his crown
Top hat or flowing tails
The Rainforests of Landulph
Steep, deep green and secret – that’s how temperate rainforests are imagined. Landulph is lucky: ours are easy to find and easily accessible. Landulph has all the ingredients needed for a rainforest to flourish; a warm south-westerly prevailing wind keeps our temperatures comparatively high throughout the year. We have a notoriously high rainfall, keeping our multitude of springs running through most of the year. You can find seepage from those springs almost everywhere from the high ground down towards the watercourses. Those watercourses have cut deep hollows into the ground and if the greenery in those hollows has remained untamed for a long time, there’s the chance for a rainforest to grow.
Here in Landulph, we have several forests, all slightly different (that’s `forest’ in the old sense of `wild place’ rather than of acres of serried commercial conifers). In this account I focus on three widely varying sites, all of them easy to get to and inspect.
The smallest is in the hollow lane ascending from the Coombe towards Salter Mill. Clearly a steep hill cut down to help horses over the brow, the sides are near vertical, the west rough rock and soil and cloaked with thick moss. Pennywort, small ferns and other tiny plants grow here, courtesy of the water and nutrients dripping down the sphagnum-like moss.
The second and most unusual is on the Tamar foreshore. You’ll find it as you head South from the playing field towards Neal Point. It stretches for no more than a couple of hundred yards, so there’s no need for wellies; just aim for the last of any ebb tide. The tides have undercut the cliff along here. Water runs down much of the face from the fields above, in rivulets or in steady drips. Strands of ivy and bramble hang down in mid-air and there are patches of algae (these plant-names are approximate: I’m not a botanist!) in orange, sulphurous yellow and a harsh green. Best of all for me was finding a patch of what looked like minuscule watercress, close-growing and with perfect leaves the size of a pin-head. I didn’t taste it, nor did I try the water, clear though it looked. The air in this close space is stuffy and a degree or two warmer than elsewhere. It can be creepy.
Tamara Coast to Coast Way
A new long distance path opened in July 2023 – it follows the Tamar from Plymouth to its source and then onto the Cornish-Devon north coast border. The route is 87 miles long and is divided into 7 stages using some existing paths on both the Cornish and Devon banks. One of the challenges for the designers of this path have been the limited crossing points in the lower reaches of the Tamar. At Calstock the main route crosses from Devon to Cornwall using the train! (But this has now been replaced by a foot ferry).
Tamar Valley NL website and the Tamara Way
Downsizing - the pros and cons
Gill was interested about our downsizing experience, and asked if I’d write about it. It was certainly a mammoth undertaking for us, but I’m glad we did it when we did. It took a huge amount of planning and effort, and we don’t have the energy to do it now. Having said all of which, we’re delighted with the result, and just love living in our new, very much smaller home.
Ponds make me Happy
I can identify with the dragonfly. We require water to drink, food to eat and a place to rest and be secure. Looking around our garden, I see very few dragonflies because it offers none of the above. It needs a body of water with some plants in it. Kidney-shaped or round, deep or shallow, wild or formal; anything will attract beetles, newts, tadpoles and dragonflies. A forever changing landscape to sit and watch whilst drinking a cup of tea.
