Out on Lyde Green Common, deep in Badock's Wood

Son the Younger lives in Lyde Green, in the north-east of Bristol. The houses, shops, Science Park, etc were all built in the 2010s, so everything's very new, but just opposite his home is a country lane leadng to Lyde Green Common that still manages to look quite rural, so recently we went for a wander to see what we could see. 

Marsh Marigolds

Speckled wood

Greater Stitchwort

Bush vetch

There are some quite impressive trees in the woods around the edge of the common ... 

... and some out in the open. 

Thrush (top) and blackbird eggshells

Lyde Green Farm, now divided into housing units

It was a surprisingly peaceful walk, given we were right next to the M4, but then it was the Thursday before the Easter holiday and the motorway was more of a car park. This is where the path called The Dramway - a 19th century tramway that carried coal from Coalpit Heath and the other mines locally down to the River Avon - runs underneath it. 

Talking of which, here's Parkfield Colliery North Chimney. Because they closed a lot earlier than those that survived into the 1980s - in this instance, in 1936 - it's easy to forget just how many collieries there were in the Bristol coalfield.

Buff-tailed bumble bee

Despite the leafing trees and occasional butterfly, it was still very muddy, with a hint of lingering winter, at Lyde Green. Yesterday's walk, eight days later, at Badock's Wood was much more springlike.

on the round barrow

The first whitethorn blossom of the year is always a bit of a thrill. If there was a toy called 'My First Whitethorn' I'd play with it every day, and buy it for all the children I know. 

Very yellow cowslips (and celandines)

Building Cwtch's confidence in the water is fast turning into a magical experience. What's more, she's getting very brave.

River Trym

Grey wagtail

Wood anemones 

Horse Chestnuts lighting their candles

Badock's is a garlic wood rather than a bluebell wood, and I reckon it'll be another week to ten days before the garlic flowers reach constellation-status. Meanwhile, most of the bluebells here seem to be of the Spanish variety or hybrids. Leaving worries about the dilution of the bluebell gene pool to one side, there are still lots of woods around locally to get a fix of Hyacinthoides non-scripta, which we'll be doing very soon.

There were ravens up in the tree-tops in the middle of the wood, so I sat on the bench for a bit to listen to them. This spot always makes me feel melancholy, and it was my late mother's birthday to boot, but how can you feel sad for long with Her Cwtchness around, and spring well and truly doing its thing?

Bonfire Days

The last time I posted about the edgelands where we walk most days it looked as if this year's late, slow-burning autumn was about to catch alight.

Then I got Covid and didn't go anywhere for ten days - literally, in fact, as my partner omitted to catch it at the same time and, since he's self-employed, was keen not to miss work. So I sat in the bedroom for most of that time, with only a walk-deprived collie for company. 

While we were in seclusion, there was some wild weather, including storm Ciaran, so when we finally rejoined the world, it was a wetter one. 

And since the rain has continued, Cwtch and I have spent some time exploring The Small Dark Wood of the Mind, which affords some shelter.

The Small Dark Wood of the Mind is a feral, largely untended wood that wasn’t where it is now in the 19th century. Along with the Field of the Hollowing Oak and Rooky Wood to its east, it’s part of the edgelands sandwiched between the golf course, a housing estate, Charlton Road and the Airbus campus. The trees in the above photo grow on top of a bank or dyke alongside the footpath, which clearly isn’t a natural feature of the landscape and also doesn’t feature on the Victorian map. 

There’s another similar bank, also marking the boundary of the campus, where the rookery grows. You can see it in the recent video I took of a muntjac running up and down the wood.

I’ve been trying to work out why and when these earthworks were undertaken. I wonder if, because the factories have been used to build aeroplanes (or parts) and weapons for decades, they were put up during the war to make it harder to infiltrate the hangars and workshops. (Presumably the footpath would have been blocked for the duration.) I like this theory but haven’t been able to verify it online. Maybe I’m using the wrong search terms. And the people I might have asked who worked there - my father, my godfather, poet John Terry - are all dead, although someone on Facebook did suggest they might be bunds, designed as blast protection walls, also during the war.  

Haws barring the way to the Grove of the Silver Chair (and Ruby Crown)

Rubbish adopting an effective camouflage

Cwtch in the clearing where so many trees were felled about a year ago

Even though there’s a fence with razor wire and keep out notices running through the part of wood on the factory side of the footpath, paths running through it are still routinely blocked with branches at the junction with the footpath, presumably to deter German spies still. Doesn’t stop Cwtch and me having a nosey about every now and then, though I’m mostly interested in fungi and feathers, and she squirrels.

Of fungi, there are a few, most of them brown. I'm not skilled at identifying them, but might hazard, clockwise from top left, inkcaps x 2, milkcap maybe, candlesnuff fungus, waxcaps x 4, potato earthballs.

As for feathers, the falling season is over, apart from woodpigeon feathers. There are always woodpigeon feathers, and no sooner have disparaged them, than the God of Fallen Feathers says hey, these are beautiful too. 

As for flora and fauna, I again glimpsed the hindquarters of a muntjac scuttling into Rooky Wood (they definitely seem to have taken up residence there), while flowers have been restricted to the occasional hogweed (this one with a soldier fly) and common vetch valiantly having another go at blooming.  

Far more spectacular are the colours of autumn, which did indeed advance while my back was turned.

field maples

The ash trees in the Small Dark Wood of the Mind are starting to carpet the path with yellow leaves ... 

... while the oaks are stunning.

Looking towards the new Severn bridge

Oak and ivy on Golf Course Lane

Of course, my most fervent admiration is for my beacon tree, the hollowing oak.

One other big change during my absence ... the golf club has removed a wooden fence and an entire hedgerow at the top of the lane. It now looks like Colditz, instead of a lane with the occasional vestige of its rural past. 

As we were leaving, we watched a jay pick up an acorn, perch on the fence and drop it a little further away from the tree. Nature will prevail, in the end.