STOP PRESS STOP PRESS
Dear Friends,
SO SORRY
The April History Morning Talk listed below has had to be postponed until later in the year!
Please watch this space for further information. Our next talk will be on 25th May, when Beryl Trant tells the story of the weavers at 'Weavers'.
Stoneywish History Morning April
Friday 27th April
10.30 a.m.-1.00 p.m. at the Visitor Centre, Spatham Lane
We present a talk on 'The History of the English Artisan Hand-Press' by Rosemary Pavey.
The magic of self-publishing has perhaps never seemed as strong as in these days of e.books and 'print-on-demand' - but all through history, writers,artists and those with a message for mankind have been drawn to the private letter-press as the key to spreading their word. Here we take an amble through the print-shops of the past from Puritan Pamphleteers and Broadsheet Ballad-makers, to Ditchling's own master printer at St. Dominic's Press, not forgetting other famous and eccentric exponents of the craft along the way. William Blake, William Morris and Lucien Pissarro all designed and made exquisite printed books. And then there was that pirate-loving story-teller we all know well, who set up shop with his twelve-year-old stepson in a Swiss consumptives' hotel ...
A rare exhibition of St. Dominic's Press Posters and books will accompany the talk.
Even rarer hand-crafted cake and proper coffee will follow, with chat and a chance to relax in the garden (snow permitting)! All included in the entrance fee of £6.50.
For further details please telephone 01273 843498 from 1st March Fri-Mon 10.00-5.00.
Farmhouse Journal March 2012
After a month of ups and downs we are set to begin the new season in style. More new faces have arrived at Stoneywish, including eight lambs to date - a lovely motley gang - black ones, white ones and cream-and-tan, so far. The sheep are now grazing the bottom meadow and at dusk the lambs take off on their own, playing tag round the stone circle. With the warmer weather here, it is hard to recall that the first of
the flock were born in snow and had to be carried to shelter. Just a few days of sunshine have convinced us that spring has arrived. There are sweet violets and primroses dotted amongst the budding narcissi. The blackbirds are singing. Last week, two saddleback piglets moved into the pen beside the pot-belly pigs, and a handsome bronze turkey has taken up residence next door to the goats, so, with Pebbles the pony now settled in her own little paddock, the Smallholding is feeling quite populous!
Other news. A short while ago frustration reached boiling point on the Black Swan pond, with the cob and his mate, so desperate to begin their breeding and so resenting the presence of the second female, 
they became quite vicious towards her, and refused her access to the water. I would stand over her as she tried to feed, fending the aggressors off with a twig. 
But twice the attacks resulted in injury and we began planning how to catch and move her to safety before something terrible happened. The other ponds here are less secure. Some dry up regularly, or are exposed footpaths where dogs can roam. Being unpinioned, with both her beautiful white-tipped wings intact, she would be frowned upon at a bird sanctuary... During these days, she came to recognise me as her guardian and would greet me on my arrival with high-pitched welcome calls. But then one morning, just as my concerns were at their height, she disappeared. I hunted, called, scanned every bank and bush, fearful I should find her drowned or beheaded by the fox. No sign anywhere. We began to search wider afield in case she had somehow navigated the ditch and got out into the field. Again nothing. Then we opened the big gate into the Reserve. And there, in the wood, we found her - still limping - but free. She had somehow broken through two fences, but to this day we cannot work out how. She must have thought she had arrived in heaven, seeing a huge empty pond before her, with a grassy bank to graze on - and me still bringing her supplies of corn and swan food! Of course nothing is ever perfect. The 'emptiness' was an illusion and as soon as she took to the water, she had to fend off hordes of hungry geese and carp who tried to steal her breakfast, but she quickly discovered that she was top boss on this pond and has so far managed to outwit the fox. If I call her, she will still answer me and our bond of trust seems to endure, which is an unhoped for delight. 
As for the old cob and his mate - they have wasted no time in getting down to business - she, sitting on a new-made nest on the island, and he patrolling the water round her, putting all the ducks in their place. Everyone happy for the moment!
But just in case we should get complacent, Fate brings a new drama. A few days later, Michael wakes up at 4 a.m. feeling groggy and, thinking he will make himself a cup of tea, slides out of bed, finds his slippers, and creeps along the landing. At the top of the stairs he blacks out and tumbles down two un-carpeted flights to the bottom. I am woken by the crash and the groan as his head hits the wall. He is unconscious, then delirious. Believing the worst, I call an ambulance and we spend the next 8 hours at A & E while they X-ray every bone in his body. Miraculously, they find he has survived the fall with little more than a cut to his brow, which they mend with glue, presumably thinking his head must be made of wood! We are sent home with a leaflet about concussion: rest, relax, keep warm, rest, and take it easy ... On arrival at the house, Michael reaches for his axe and announces that he thinks he will just chop some kindling for the fire! When I remonstrate, he says: 'Oh all right then, I'll just fetch some logs - it's not lifting - it's only carrying!' He is quite put out to be banned from farm work for 4 days, but Mike, his grandson, has stepped valiantly into the breach, taking care of the animals and daily chores like a true chip off the old block. Hearts of oak!!
No more for now. It's time for a cuppa! Matron says the invalid can resume his responsibilities today ...
Farmhouse Journal February 2012
Yesterday we woke to snow. The radio broadcasts are full of dire warnings of congestion and mayhem, but here the snow brings quiet and a sense of community. The birds have laid aside their spring posturings and squabblings and focus together on the more pressing business of staying alive. Even the black swans, whose territorial feelings have been running so high they could not tolerate one another on the pond, now strut together on the ice and feed almost amicably in the little open water that is left.
Out in the meadow, one of the ewes has given birth. Michael spots the lamb when he takes the sheep their barley before breakfast. Later I find the mother guarding a spot tucked under the hedge near the gypsy caravan and sneak a distant photo. We are anxious not to disturb her as all seems well. But when I inspect the photo more closely at home I can make out another tiny black form in the snow - she has twins! As the day warms, the snow begins to melt. 
I take out more barley and this time I come close enough to see that the lambs, though sturdy, are soaked with drippings from the branches overhead and the weaker one is trembling. Time to move them. Michael tucks one under each arm and, with the ewe trotting at our heels and bleating continuously, we begin the trek to the Shaker smallholding where they can take shelter in a hut filled with dry straw. The Jacobs ewe has been here before and as soon as she has her babies restored, settles in contentedly. So far so good. 
Heavy frost is forecast tonight, but if they can keep dry, the lambs will take their warmth from her. I am minded of the Spartans, who exposed their newborn infants on the mountainside overnight to see if they were fit for the harsh life that lay ahead. Those that survived would make good warriors! Well our little Spartans should be safe now. Let's hope they are soon strong enough to go back to their flock.
At the other end of the smallholding we have a new resident, a wee bonny Shetland pony, called Pebbles, who walked all the way here from her former home in Hassocks, with young Mike on Saturday! She has moved into the long pen where she has a good shelter from the north wind.
Until this sudden blast from Siberia, we had been enjoying the mildest winter we can remember, with primroses blooming since, November,and red campions, stragglers from last summer, flowering amidst 
the snowdrops and aconites! And despite the snow,the woodland bulbs are still visibly growing, and hazel catkins, capped with ice, are lengthening into proper 'lamb's tails', that waggle in the wind. I wonder what town children make of that folk-name if they hear it now. Some footpath walkers who stopped to chat the other day, were surprised to see our sheep 'undocked'. 
Their children did not know that they could have long and bushy tails. But you have to see a proper lamb's tail to appreciate how the hazel catkins mimic that distinctive kink at the end! When I was a child, I had a book called 'Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare', which caused me no end of confusion and I still cannot break the connection between catkins and the Bard! At any rate, spring seems unstoppable! And thank Heaven for that!
Stoneywish reopens on March 1st. Michael has been busy coppicing hazels in the Reserve and weaving new wattle fences out of the long poles for the herb garden beds. There's fencing still to do, and he and Mike have plans to re-build the tepee in the Play Area. And we have been busy putting together a programme of talks for the History Mornings, which begin again in April. First up, yours truly, with a History of the English Artisan Hand-Press: Puritan Pamphleteers to St. Dominic's Press here on the Common, via some rather famous and eccentric exponents of self-publishing, including William Blake, William Morris and a pirate-loving consumptive and his twelve-year-old stepson who set up their print-shop in a Swiss Hotel!
Farmhouse Journal August 2011
Today, a windless, sweltering day, of the sort you remember from childhood summers: white clouds adrift in azure overhead, the whirr of grasshoppers, gorse pods popping, I set out on an insect safari through the Reserve, to see what I can find in a leisurely hour, walking and stopping for photographs. My sightiongs follow the contours of meadow and woodland, with the greatest concentration of species, as always, in the open, sunny grassland of the Bog Pond.
Where insect numbers are highest there will be the greatest choice of food for predators, so these numbers matter for us and the national statistics, which show a widespread, dramatic decline in insect populations, carry grave consequences for British wildlife as a whole. After all, though it is gratifying for us to help garden
birds through the winter on offerings of nigella seeds and dried meal worms from China, we cannot pretend that this is truly a sustainable solution. We are told that cuckoos are dying out for lack of moths to eat. How many of us know which plants are good for moths? I admit to real ignorance here, hoping that the big oak trees, the birches, willows and poplars at Stoneywish give enough scope for a range of species, but these invisible lacunae in the food web, may prove to be just as critical as the more recognised problems of pollution or predator imbalance.
Butterfly numbers for us seem to be down on last year. Perhaps the cold early spring affected them, but I find gatekeepers, common blues, the last of the skippers and meadow browns in the long 
grass, where over 20 species of wild flowers are immediately visible. Red admirals and commas are beginning to appear in the apple orchard, while speckled wood have been abundant, under the trees, since March. Early dragonflies are about too. And the flowers with far and away the most insect guests? Apart from the herbs in the herb garden, they are dreaded hogweed, thistle, blackberry, 
teasel and the greeny-white, waxy stars of white bryony, all with clouds of eager hover flies! Gold finches are busy already amongst the thistledown.
Perhaps a few stinging nettles, as a token gesture to conservation, are just not enough. We need to recognise that all these plants deserve a place near us if we want birds in our world. The goldfinches 
will move on to teasel seeds as they ripen in turn. Who will eat the great biscuit-like fruit of the hogweed? Or the poison-bright berries of the bryony and cuckoo pint, which bejewel the woodland floor?
Seeing nature whole, brings such staggering rewards. And you don't need infra-red equipment or a team of photographers from the BBC. It is cheaper and much more fun than weedkiller. We just need to slow down enough to look. Our children have everything to teach us here. We devise captivating entertainments for them, but they can access levels of pleasure to which, as adults, we have grown all but blind.
At the end of my safari I followed a family along a path to the Play Area. Two little boys, four or five years old, were trailing behind their mothers, recalling the highlights of their trip last summer. Ice cream? Swings? Friendly pigs? Not a mention! This is what I heard instead: "Yeah, this is the place with the Doctor Who plants.
I remember." "Yeah, the Dr. Who plants." Do they mean the giant himalayan balsam, which can catapult its seeds 6 feet when the pods explode? Another weed loathed by all, though punch-drunk bumble-bees think they have found paradise when they reach the blossoms. "Yeah, this is where the grasshoppers are!" "Yeah! The grasshoppers!!! .." Ah, those summer days of childhood ... Forget the latest stress-busting courses. All you need to do is step out of time and get down on your hands and knees!
Farmhouse Journal July 2011
The cherry tree outside our door is laden with ripening fruit and a blackbird has taken up residence bang in the middle of it. When he is not positively gorging himself, he stands guard to ward off approaches from all others, especially humans. Now I am more than happy to share, but the blackbird considers the fruit to be exclusively his and becomes extremely agitated if he sees us steal any. which gives a touching insight into our place in the order of things. According to the bats, foxes, squirrels, moles, rabbits and toads who rightly think the nature reserve is theirs, we must be little more than trespassers with annoying habits!
The young creatures here are growing up very fast while the world around them signals the arrival of high summer. Long grass in the pinetum resounds to the churr-churr of innumerable grasshoppers, and the bog pond is dappled with butterflies: skippers, meadow browns and marbled whites. Overhead, comes the screech of swifts as they hunt for flies, and today,a flash of blue indicating a kingfisher on the black swan pond. Every honey bee for miles seems to have found its way to the great lime tree near the old farm yard, which is now in bloom. We should harvest some blossoms too, for fresh lime flower tea is one of the treats of summer and a soothing tonic for the nerves.
Everybody seems to know about elderflower spritzers, but linden-blossom tea remains a delicious secret. In fact it is hard to keep up with the successive harvests of the season: sorrel for soup: chive flowers, marigolds and nasturtiums to enliven a salad; blue borage flowers for summer drinks (delightful frozen into ice cubes); and rose petals in sandwiches! All have beneficial herbal properties too! Other seasonal plants inspire different uses: astringent southernwood to drive away clothes moths, and tutsan, a member of the st. john's wort family, whose leaves were traditionally pressed into Bibles as fragrant bookmarks. All can be found in the Reserve at this time of year.
These summer mornings Michael rises at 5 or five thirty and goes out for a few hours, cutting docks and thistles with his swaphook before breakfast. Apparently haymakers traditionally worked early, partly to avoid the heat of the day, but also because, as the dew dries, grasses become tougher to cut, and the same is true of weeds. The trick is to catch your them just before they flower, for then all the energy of the plants is concentrated in the leaves and they will be less likely to come back in strength. Working by hand is laborious, 
but this way he can trim round the meadow plants he wants to conserve and this year we have a wonderful profusion of wildflowers: meadowsweet and birds-foot trefoil, hardheads, clovers, vetches and in the Bog Pond, drifts of lady's bedstraw, agrimony and sticky mouse-ear. His cutting blade is honed to a lethal edge and regularly re-sharpened and this particular tool is now wafer thin, but Michael insists the vintage steel is better than anything you can buy new.
Hand cutting also spares most of the creatures living in the grass. We aspire to recreate the abundance of grassland insects that was commonplace at the beginning of the last century. 
Michael remembers assisting bug-hunters and beetle-collectors in his boyhood and our Bog Pond now gives an idea of what the countryside at large must have been like. 
This area, which is left virtually to manage itself, teams with insect life in a way altogether different from the rest of the reserve. Perhaps the proximity of water helps. Soon there will be dragonflies and damselflies and the red-spotted burnet moths which fly by day. At any rate there should be enough critters about this summer to keep naturalists, young or old, happy this summer!
Camping at Stoneywish
Here are some details about camping at Stoneywish. If you would like to make a reservation, please telephone our ticket office during opening hours (Fri-Mon 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. during school term time and every day 10. a.m. - 5 p.m. during school holidays March to October inclusive). You can also book through www.grasshoppers-uk.com
The Camping Field
is situated next to the Car Park and Visitor Centre and is a large meadow adjoining the village recreation ground, surrounded by mature hedgerows and with footpath access to the village with its post office, pubs and cafes. Campers with tents and small caravans/camper vans are all welcome. Please park next to your tent in the field.
Cost
Camping costs £5.00 per person per night. Babies under 1 year old are free.
Dogs
are welcome provided you keep them on the lead and any clear up any poo! Please note dogs cannot go into the Nature Reserve.
Rubbish
Please take all rubbish home with you.
Music
We ask you not to play music as people come here for the peace and quiet. The wildlife here needs to be peaceful too!
Fires and BBQs
are permitted if you can make sure you do not burn the grass. There are one or two designated camp fire areas at the edge of the field. Logs can be purchased at the Visitor Centre or from Michael's grandson direct at www.grasshoppers-uk.com. (Young Mike also offers local gardening services from this site.)
Facilities
This is basic camping so we provide a tap for drinking water and use of the Visitor Toilets which have small hand-washing basins and baby-changing/disabled facilities.
Access to the Nature Reserve
is during Reserve opening times only. Camping fees do not include entrance to the reserve. Tickets can be bought at the Ticket Office.
Bookings.
Please telephone in advance during opening hours to make your reservation. If you arrive late, you can pay when the Reserve opens in the morning. Payments can be made by card or cash at the Ticket Office. Camping is still available on days when the Reserve is closed.
Group Bookings
are welcome, but please telephone to make your reservation in advance.
We hope you will enjoy your stay here! There is much to see and enjoy.
