puddleshark

Countryside near Dewlish. If you click twice to zoom in, you might just be able to make out the Devil's Brook running through the field to right of centre.

After my recent adventures in Thorncombe - holding twenty tonnes of stampeding bullock at bay with a big stick, wading across fords - I wanted to plan a less exciting walk. One that stayed mostly on byways and farm tracks, and one that avoided footpaths across fields of bullocks. Looking at the OS map, there was a bridleway from Milborne St Andrew that looked promising, leading northwest up onto the downs, passing farms at regular intervals. Additional bonus: it seemed to lead to the middle of nowhere. I always like a path that leads nowhere.

Typical flint and brick cottages in the village of Milborne St Andrew. It's one of those villages that has expanded massively in modern times, with a lot of 1960s bungalows, and several more recent housing developments. But the new development is very sympathetically & imaginatively done, not just using the local flint and brick construction, but also with all the houses having their own little styling details that make them unique. (So many modern developments in north Dorset use the right materials, but then just plonk down a dozen identikit houses in a way that screams out "Modern development".)

From the northern end of the village, a left turn onto the bridleway leading up onto the downs.

There's no such thing as the dog poo fairy. (Presumably for the benefit of those dog owners who pick up the poo, but then leave the bag hanging in a hedge for the fairies to dispose of).

All along the way, a white lace of cow parsley flowers, and the hawthorn in blossom.

An ash with a hollow heart. Or maybe a portal to another world. (I didn't stop to check).

A small farm with derelict looking cottage and barns. Beside the track, rusting farm machinery and cattle crushes, piles of corrugated iron.

Belongs to the brambles now.

Careful now! Stinging nettles watching a gate.

Further on, past a more modern barn.

Through a field of dandelion clocks. (Probably not a cash crop.)

Refreshment stop, with dandelion & burdock pop. (I should have photographed this bottle in the field with the dandelions - there was burdock growing there, too...)

Then onwards, burping, down into the valley:

In the valley bottom, the Devil's Brook, a chalk stream, and many little brick pumping stations (which I was hard pressed to keep out of shot).

"Dewlish was named for its watercourse – the Celtic word for black stream; the village name evolved from Devenis (in the Domesday Book of 1086), to Deueliz in 1194, to Douelis in 1212 to a more recognisable Dewelisshe by 1481. The stream, meanwhile has evolved to become the Devil’s Brook; Folk etymology, as the peerless David Mills explains in his book 'Dorset Place Names', must have associated the brook with the word ‘Devilish’, presumably derived, in a nice completion of the circle of naming, from Dewlish." https://www.dorsetlife.co.uk/2014/05/dewlish-a-village-photo-essay/

Dewlish Mill, early 19th century, formerly a watermill with two attached cottages, but now one property.

Apologies for the poor picture quality. When I got back from my walk and went to process my photos, I found I had switched the camera settings from RAW to JPEG while I was up on the downs, to play around with a multiple exposure shot, and then forgotten to switch them back. Aargh. Half my shots from the day were in JPEG (where the camera makes all the decisions for you, unlike RAW where the camera keeps ALL the data, and you get to process the pictures entirely as you please...)

From the mill, the path leads uphill again, towards Brook Farm. Here I met a gentleman walking a King Charles spaniel and a border terrier, and he directed me onto the newly restored footpath to Dewlish, which descends through the woods, crossing several little bridges.

Then, onto a path that runs through a green tunnel, lined with cow parsley & mayblossom.

Then onto a weedkillered path along the edge of a field of wheat. Right angle turn. Along another edge of the same field of wheat. Then through a gate, and onto the lane leading down to Dewlish.

Sat for a while at the crossroads by the War Memorial, while the early morning village dog walkers stood chatting in the lane. It's a quiet village - the lane that leads in and leads out doesn't really go anywhere else. There's a little bus shelter behind the War Memorial, with shelves of books in it. But there's no bus to the village these days. No shop. No post office.

Dewlish Village Hall. Style: 19th century Philanthropist Whimsy. (Mid-C19, but incorporates a former C17 entrance archway to Manor Farm House).

All Saints, Dewlish, and, where the buttercups are growing, earthworks that mark the site of the medieval village and old manor house.

The church is a mix of dates: Norman doorway, 14th century tower, 16th century nave, 19th century aisles. I did venture inside, but didn't take any pictures this time because one of the parishioners was in there arranging flowers, and I didn't want to disturb her. Instead we got chatting about the church, the Montmorency monuments in the churchyard, then about flowers, and wild flower meadows.

But this post is getting rather long. I think it's time for a To Be Continued...