This Sat 21 May Three Cane Whale are back at Roundhill Barn for an intimate concert. The trio play delicate, original instrumental folk tunes, and deploy rich array of original instruments many of which would be unfamiliar.
We were pleased to welcome our new neighbours the Middle Ground Growers from the other side of the hill for an equinox celebration of their new venture and successful fundraise.
Their Weston Spring project is a new market garden growing local organic fruit and veg, with local delivery by e-bike. In an age of mini-courgettes flown in from Kenya and asparagus from Peru they’re taking the World Heritage City to the old ways in an outstanding, natural and beautiful way. Let’s not forget this is how Bath’s earlier Roman and Georgian residents would have fed themselves.
Starting a new venture is always risky, and earning a living from local farmland is hard work. Their worthwhile project is something we’re happy to support.
Spring and beautiful weather has seen increased visits to Kelston Clump. The Roundhill Barn is again available for short-term hire: see dedicated web site here. Apologies if the lettings team has been hard to contact for some weeks: we had admin and staff issues (all now happily resolved).
This weekend two lucky 16-year-olds had a memorable birthday weekend of sunlight and moonlight with dozens of friends. Adult supervision was kept at a safe distance with the elegant solution of a 1967 Airstream Trail Wind from Nick at Glamstreams: all mod cons in a classic aero-engineering aesthetic.
I am a photographer currently putting together a series of images of Kelston Roundhill for a book. I was wondering if you had any information about the history, I have found that there is something about how it was very important to the town of Kelston a long time ago, but is there anything more you can tell me, or be able to point me in the right direction of where I could find out such information
Boxing Day we planted a mass of English bluebell bulbs in Kelston clump. It always feels like an ideal location for bluebells, but we’ve never seen any flowering in there until spring 2021, and even then it was just a few of the invasive sort.
So we accepted with pleasure a generous Christmas gift from our new neighbour Hamish from the Middle Ground Growers of a bucket of English bluebell bulbs. He said it was 200 bulbs; we reckon we planted about 500 and had a good quantity left over for another round. We dug hem in around the base of trees, and sprinkled some chili flakes and cinnamon to deter pests.
Come and check in April. We’re hoping to see some first flashes of blue. But maybe you’ll just find a bunch of well-fed squirrels…
On 21 December a couple of dozen of us dressed warm, gathered at Roundhill Barn and walked up to Kelston Clump to watch the end of the year’s shortest day.
It’s great to mark the Solstice properly; it marks something of fundamental importance about this time of year and has a wonderful way of liberating you to enjoy Christmas more fully.
Earlier we had the sun break out for the first time in weeks as we set up, so was a spectacular evening. Our very own Kelston Laureate Jon Hamp shared poems, with rich imagery rooted to the spot and that moment: the Roundhill as our lighthouse in a stormy sea.
We returned to the barn and – in a short event put on by Isabel Russo and Craig Kenyon – shared reflections about Solstice, about the beauty of life stripped back to the winter minimum, and how even if we fear the dark it the time we need to dream.
Solstice is a great moment for reflection, especially at a time when we’ve all got massive issues and challenges to think about. The months of darkness allow us to winter; to prepare not just for new life but also a renewed scrutiny when the light returns.
As we rounded up Pete Judge treated us to a Solstice fanfare, and we danced round our circle of intentions. We shared refreshments and mulled wine, and headed off ready to face all that Christmas and to approach new-year challenges with hope. How else can we approach near-lockdown, delinquent leadership, fraught relations with neighbouring countries, a climate crisis and life’s usual challenges?
The conservation architects I used to live with spoke of soaking bricks in ox blood to get an authentic colour and spreading milk and yoghourt on walls and benches to encourage the growth of mosses and lichens.
Does that even work? There’s only one way to find out. Tho my sister and co-owner says you need to mix in manure for best results. And this web site says you need to throw in some moss and mix it in a kitchen blender (like you keep a spare one for stomach-churning experiments). More to this than meets the eye.