Not only the flora and fauna

Not only do you need to keep an eye on natural changes over time, but the hand of the conservation volunteers and others make their mark. New finger posts have fixed themselves about the parkland, almost mysteriously as sudden as the fungi. But I know better. Some of the earlier cylindrical posts, with sharpened ends like a giant pencil have worked loose and fallen. These finger posts are well set into the ground with possibly a concrete footing.

Additionally, wide drives have been re-cut in Broomroyd plantation and no doubt will remain clear as the growing halts for the next few months of autumn, winter until spring begins the job of reclaiming the ground. This was how it all looked exactly one year ago when I turned up to begin the training for the role of ranger and thus I am nearly at full circle, though not quite.
The parkland was quite busy today with nine men in separate groups enjoying walks. One singular walker who made his way quite determinedly from Ivas Wood plantation towards the rotunda, only to be seen making his way back from the Argyll monument. The others were in pairs with one trio. Once I had introduced myself, the trio were very curious about the tunnels and hollows which are to be found below the footpath at the bottom of Broomroyd plantation.
The question of mines and mining was raised and the existence if coal measures near to the surface was discussed.

I do not know why this tunnel is there. I know there are many theories. They cover such possibilities as places the servants could run to to shelter should they be caught unawares in the open on the occasion of the arrival of guests at one extreme, and run to straight forward drift mines.

The parkland is now dry and browning. There is the definite tinge to the grass and leaves that says the year is over. Sweet chestnuts carpet the ground in the parkland leading down to the Serpentine. There is here a feast of chestnuts waiting for the open fire. I have had a recent break in the Dordogne region of France. There, in the market square of the medieval town of Sarlat, they were roasting chestnuts in a cylindrical mesh drum fuelled with burning wood and an even cooking time was achieved by rotating this drum, but the smell of wood smoke and roasting chestnuts was sweet, even though the chestnuts themselves were somewhat underdone. Roasting chestnuts - another memory of childhood revived.