4 out of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

If you go back a couple of thousand years, the people that inhabited this country are often called Celts. Very little is written about them, but what there is was written by the Romans and they took a dim view of their customs and habits. It is thought that they lived using a lunar calendar and no doubt use the four pivot points of solstice and equinox to frame their lives. But the truth is no one knows.

One man who has found that following a lunar cycle helps him deal with modern life and all the crap that it throws at him is Kevin Parr. He has slowly come to the conclusion that this less regimented way of marking time helps him become more in tune with the natural rhythms of nature and as a bonus, it has helped him no end with his mental health.

This is more than a gentle meander around the Dorset countryside though. Parr uses nature as a crutch to get him through the tough moments in his life. The book is split into twelve chapters each with a title of a moon, with wonderful names such as The Moon of Ice, The Moon of Dispute, The Bright Moon and it begins with the Quiet Moon.

In each chapter, we join Parr on his walks in his part of West Dorset. It is partly a history book and partly a natural history book and interwoven with these two main threads is a dusting of folklore, travel, memoir and musings on modern life. At times it feels like a confessional as he opens up about personal matters and other things that have been troubling his mind. As he immerses himself in research about the Celts way of life he realises that there is no clear definition of them and he fills in the gaps in a way that makes sense to him.

This in some ways is incredibly difficult to review. I can’t really put my finger on the exact reason why, but I really liked this book. But, I think it is because he is forging his own philosophy in his local landscape. There are things he writes about that I haven’t contemplated yet and need time to go away and think about them.
However, there are other subjects that he writes about that I felt like I was looking into a mirror ball, where I would sometimes glimpse my own ways of interacting with the landscapes around me. It might not be everyone’s thing, but if you want something different to read about landscapes and one man’s place in the world, then I can recommend this.

4 out of 5 stars

I haven’t been, but when I think of Morocco, I think of the bustling souks and the colourful architecture. But this country has another side away from the main tourist attractions. The book is over three stages she walks along the Draa river, then across the Sahara and finally through the Atlas mountains. Two of these journeys happen in what we would consider normal times. Then the final walk just about manages to take place after the pandemic. But it nearly didn’t happen.

She is joined on her walk by the men who know these landscapes intimately. They know where the best places to stop are and most importantly, where the oasis and where the rare and precious resources of water can be found. Three camels carry their burden;  Morrison isn’t sure about the camels at the beginning, but she grows to admire their resilience in these harsh landscapes.

I really liked this travel book. Morrison is a genuinely enthusiastic person and that comes through on every page as she walks across Morocco. She is sensitive to those that she meets and gets on really well with her companions. It never feels that she is imposing her view or perspective on what happens on the walk.

Being a female explorer she gets to see the mostly hidden life of the women who live in these places they pass through. This is something that no male travel writer ever would get to see. She has the ability to form strong bonds with the women that she meets. Their delight in meeting her is apparent too. If you want a travel book that will help you see under the skin of a country at a gentle walking pace, then I can strongly recommend this.

3.5 out of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

Our garden bird visitors are normally sparrows starlings and pigeons. We occasionally get goldfinches and magpies, have had the odd buzzard sweep through and even once after a lot of rain (and I mean a lot) have had mallards! I had never though of taking phot of them, we just put the food out and let them get on with it.

Sadly this winter we have not has as many visitors as usual. I think that bird flu may be a factor, but who knows. IF we had had more them I would definitely be digging out my camera to try out some of the ideas in this new book. It has been a while since I used my SLR, but it did take some great photos, I normally take landscapes and not wildlife though.

Sensible advice abounds through out this book. It is an accessible and practical guide for taking the best photos in your garden. I did like the way that he showed how to set up shots and the detailed information needed to get the very best photo from your kit and the birds that you have visiting. The most useful of which is to keep taking photos. A lot will be duff, with the odd success, but the more experienced that you get, the better they will be.

The prose is conversational and aimed very much at the non expert photographer. As I know a little bit about photography, I could tell that he knew what he was talking about. It is a good all round guide for the complete beginner and someone with a little experience.

5 out of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

We so far have six fruit trees in our garden, and according to a search on Google, it takes five trees to make an orchard. It doesn’t feel quite right though, if I ever have enough land then I am going to plant an proper orchard with rows and everything! There is a lot of folklore associated with orchards too, but Never partaken in a wasailing event, though I hear from Martin Maudsley they are well worth attending

I do love visiting the Bridport Community Orchard, located just off the town centre, it is a peaceful haven in a busy world. But they are becoming rarer than ever. Since 1960 we have lost two thirds of the small traditional orchards that could be found all over the West Country. This loss is catastrophic, not only have apple varieties that are unique to that particular local gone, but the long established ecosystems that depend on these trees have gone with it.

There are people working to find trees that have escaped the relentless grubbing up that took place a couple of decades ago. Two of them are pomologist Liz Copas and cidermaker Nick Poole who have been scouring Dorset looking for the hedgerows with apple trees as well as seeking out farms and small holdings that might have a tiny orchard still left.

This book is some of the results of their findings and their journeys back and forth across West Dorset finding the lost marvels. When they found the trees they scrumped the apples to make ciders and most importantly took samples for DNA and cutting to graft onto rootstocks. Some of the varieties they found were known by other names, and what wonderful names they have. However, some were unique and they had the opportunity to name them so we now have records for Matravers, Tom Legg, Golly Knapp and Cattistock Pink.

I thought that this was a wonderful book and if you have the faintest interest in orchards then you should read it too. I liked their theory that cider making began in Dorset too, it feels plausible given the information they have found out. It is good to see that the varieties that they have discovered are now being replanted in orchards across Dorset now. Long may it continue.

Other reading
Orchard: A Year in England’s Eden by Benedict Macdonald
Common Ground Book Of Orchards
The Apple Orchard by Pete Brown

3.5 out of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

Home is as much a metaphysical thing as it is a physical building. For those that choose to make their home in different places, and in particular different countries, where they call home is very much dependent on the moment. I was born in Surrey, but I have felt more at home in Dorset since we moved here 20 years ago.

Thea Lenarduzzi has a similar dilemma. Her family are originally from Italy and the various generations have shuttled backwards and forward between the UK and Italy over the course of four generations. In this book, she blows away the dust from these family memories and tries to understand how it has shaped them as a family and her, as a person.

She sits down with her grandmother, or Nonna as she calls her and starts the process of recording the stories of family members past and just still present. This cyclic motion between the Fruili in Italy and Sheffield and Manchester happened over two generations and has defined her as a person and a full European citizen.

I cling to Nonno for support. My mind moves around his land like a ghost haunting a house that it considers its own. Or a vampire hovering on the threshold, hoping to be invited in.

I did like this intimate and intricate family memoir. Lenarduzzi meanders through her family history whilst being centred around her grandmother, Dirce. I like the way we can see a vast swathe of European history and the wars that punctuated the twentieth century through the prism of this family. Her prose is beautiful sometimes, but occasionally it felt like we had peered in a little too far into her family life. I can recommend this if you want a story of a family that has spread far and wide like the seeds from a Dandelion clock.

5 out of 5 stars

When we had an allotment many many years ago we would spend ages pouring over the seed catalogues trying to find the tastiest fruit and vegetable to buy. Often the ones that came top of the plate taste test were the heritage ones. These are often ignored by supermarkets as they don’t meet their very stringent and specific requirements.

Seed companies also ignored them as the cost of registering them was prohibitive. So to get these seeds we had to sign up to an organisation whose members could see that losing them was a disaster in the making.

This disaster is now almost on us. But there are people all around the world fighting back now. In Eating to Extinction, Dan Saladino crisscrosses the planet to talk to the farmers, cooks and individuals who have a vested interest in making sure that these rare food and drink are being kept alive. We learn about the original varieties of corn in South America, Lambic beers in Belgium and indigenous communities who have gone back to the wild rice that is resistant to the diseases affecting modern varieties. It is a fascinating journey.

I thought that this was an excellent book about the looming disaster that the global food industry has the potential to become. I did notice that there are people at the top of these big businesses that dominate the global food system who are starting to make a noise. But vested interests still hold sway – at the moment. I have seen some reviews that complained that he goes into too much detail about the various food and drinks that he has investigated. But for me, this is exactly what we need, someone who is prepared to dig in and find the details of that particular grain or drink.

Reading it I felt like I was hearing his voice on the programmes that he presents on the Food Programme on BBC Radio 4. I liked the short essays on each subject too. It is a book that could be returned to again and again. Mostly though it is a call to arms to ensure that governments start to put in place the necessary regulations to ensure that we have more diversity in the food chain. Otherwise, we are all doomed…

Very highly recommended