Interconnected woods and surprises

Sunday 4 October 2013

Leaving my chilly perch under the stand of pines I ambled back down the hill beside the avenue of limes heading for the place I’d first emerged into the clearing on that wet July Day. Back then I had no idea of the extent of the woodland and the rain stopped me exploring further than the little park by the road that had first caught my attention. When I plunged back into the trees I soon found myself at the meeting of three trails where I’d sheltered from the rain that day and there were the steps I’d climbed, looking less treacherous in the sun.

In July there’d been wet roses beside the bench and I was surprised to see a few still clinging on. Nearby was the plinth topped by Richard St. Barbe Baker’s smiling face. His organisation, Men of the Trees has made a huge difference to worldwide reforestation so it seemed fitting that this little piece of woodland in the place he was born should be saved from the developer’s axe.

Out on the road again I passed the gates that must once have belonged to the grange house and found a plaque to another man or foresight. Although not as well known as St. Barbe Baker, Harry Haines was chairman of the parish council after the Great War and the purchase of Hatch Grange in 1938 was largely due to him. The village has a lot to thank him for.

Originally I’d planned to walk back down Gaters Hill and along the river. Mostly this was to avoid walking back up Chalk Hill and I was in half a mind to take Cutbush Lane instead. When I came to Ivy Lane another plan began to form, this would lead me directly to West End Copse. Looking at the map it’s easy to see the strip of woodland stretching from Hum Hole all the way to West End before it meets the impenetrable barrier of the motorway and the green fields beyond. Until that moment though, I’d not quite seen the relationship between these little green islands in a sea of houses. Once upon a time I suppose the whole area must have been woodland.

A squirrel was sitting on the gate post of the copse, looking for all the world like an ornament. Snapping all the while I crept towards it but it dashed up a tree before I got close enough for a decent photo. That seems to be the way with squirrels. No doubt it was watching me as I went through the gate chuckling to myself at the sign on the bin saying ‘there’s no such thing as the dog poo fairy.’

Then it was back to the woods with a small rill running beside me that someone had tried, unsuccessfully to dam with a few fallen branches. The light from the canopy made the water seem green. In fact everything seemed green. In Hatch Grange I’d been looking everywhere for fungi and found none, now, without even looking they were there. On the edge of the trail a sawn tree sported an enchanting circle of hundreds of pale, curly mushrooms like a fairy ring. Smiling to myself I carried on, wondering if there were fairies hidden somewhere in the trees beside the trail. Did they come out at night and dance up and down the wooden steps and along the boardwalks?

Then, as I made my way towards the rough steps cut  into the slopes I spotted a pile of loose, light coloured earth. The first time I came to this little wood I stumbled upon a nest of ground bees, I’ve been trying to find it again ever since and now, when I wasn’t looking at all, there it was. For a moment I thought I was seeing things or was mistaken but, when I got up close, I could see the holes the bees had made. Of course they’re all gone now. What’s the betting I can’t find it again on purpose next spring?

At the top of the steps I came to the giant table and chairs. Close by was another fallen tree bristling with fungi. Why there should be so much here yet such a short distance away in Hatch Grange there were none at all is a mystery. Maybe I just wasn’t looking in the right places? Fungi are one of the bonuses of autumn to my mind. They, along with the colourful fruits and leaves make up in a small way for the lack of flowers. Another autumn  bonus was strewn all around on the ground in the form of green and prickly cases filled with sweet chestnuts. So far they’re not ripe but when they are they’ll be worth gathering to roast. As a child I remember lining them up on the hearth in front of the open fire and waiting for them to pop. These days they are roasted in the oven. How times have changed.

The path goes in several directions from the table and chair clearing. I chose the route along the spine of the hill looking down into the gully where the stream flows. Looking up there was blue sky between the branches and every breath of air brought a little shower of leaves, they were settling everywhere, some even caught on the spikes of the holly. On top of a rotting, ivy clothed stump a little autumn tableau caught my eye, a large pine cone and an empty acorn cup. They made such a perfect picture I had to stop.

Nearby, there were more fungi, a little dried up and ragged but lots of them. Everywhere I looked there seemed to be more, clinging in clusters to every log and tree as if this was some kind of fungi Shangri-La. Obviously this is the place to come for some world class fungi spotting. Perhaps getting excited by a few dried up old mushrooms is a bit odd, but then I’ve never pretended to be anything else.

By now I was coming to the other side of the copse and, despite my earlier snack, my tummy was rumbling. It was time to stop dawdling and head home for lunch. All in all it had been a funny morning, full of surprises. There’d been sun when I’d expected rain, a car park where I’d expected none and a sudden realisation of the interconnectedness of all these little patches of woodland. When I left home I’d been planning to visit one wood in West End and I’d ended up with two, mostly because I’d walked rather than taken the car. There may be a lesson there somewhere.

Another surprise came when I popped into the village to get some milk on the way home. When I took my rucksack off my back the bottom was wet which seemed a bit odd until I looked inside. The lid had come off the empty iced coffee carton and there must have been a little left inside which had leaked into my bag. The bag will wash but I can’t believe I left some of that coffee. The final surprise was waiting for me on the way down the little hill. Hanging over the high garden wall on the corner was a bunch of ripening grapes. Even in southern England, grapes growing in the open are not a normal sight and these looked very exotic and juicy despite the wet cold summer. Maybe my garden needs a grape vine.