After a few too many days inside due to taking my minibus test and incessant rain. I headed outside yesterday to clear my head and celebrate by seeing if I could find some wild garlic in one of my old childhood haunts.
I was walking in the woods in the open access land of Happy Valley, owned by Croydon Council and managed for its range of habitats including ancient chalk grassland. No joy on finding any wild garlic, but I did really enjoy slowing down, and listening and seeing and feeling all the signs of spring which have felt a long way off with all the rain and a few hard frosts recently.
My arrival was very spur of the moment – pulling the car into the car park on my way back form passing my test and doing lots of boring admin chores afterwards.
As I walked along very muddy paths, creeping around the edges of the puddles like others had done before me. I started to see the tracks of a trail runner, who regularly comes along the main path then cuts off onto smaller tracks and explores the valley sides, just as I was doing now. I wondered at what his (they were about size 10-11 prints) motivation was, and what time of day he went for his run. I could see it was regular as there were prints of different ages of the same Salomon shoe. Being a hugely popular shoe I was very much making the assumption that it was the same runner rather than two with the same shoes on and a similar foot size. But this assumption allowed my imagination to run wild, using the same questioning techniques I developed in South Africa, tracking big game.
As I slowed down, I started to notice more, the smaller paths used by the roe deer, foxes and badgers that live in the woodland, but are rarely see by its human visitors. The huge range of bird song, now spring up around me, so much more variety than the robin and occasional blackbird and wren that we had in early January. I continued onwards, my pace still slowing, as I admired how much the area coppiced ten years ago had regrown and the diverse mix of species underneath it. I compared this to the almost bare grown under the yews self seeded from the line on the other side of the valley positioned to mark the pilgrimage route. Whilst listening to the sharp call of the buzzard overhead as it climbed ever higher on thermals.
I was off the main paths now, following the deer racks instead. I didn’t find many prints, the leaf little put pay to that, but I did find the tell tale droppings of a few favourite perches of birds, and the signs of squirrels and other rodents feeding on cones and hazel nuts.
Occasionally I could hear the wail of a siren trying the get though the traffic, this one wasn’t having too much success as it changed its wail to a new note. As I moved on the blackbirds were still singing, and the sound of 6 pigeons leaving the cherry above my head followed the noise of me breaking a stick underfoot. There were new noises around me now, human voices, as people headed out into the rare break of sunshine we have been given for a while to walk dogs and children along the main paths at the top and bottom of the valley. It was time for me to head home, as I came back out onto one of the wider rides the sunshine hit my skin, temporally blinding my eyes and warming my face and hand with its rays.Â
I hadn’t managed to find any wild garlic, but I had hit the pause button, relaxed and reconnected with the world around me, as well as found a huge collection of Jelly Bracket Fungus (Auricularia auricula-judae) which would be dried and added to stir fry’s when I do find that local supply of wild garlic!
There are no photos from this stroll, as I managed to leave my phone in the car in my hurry to escape life and my todo lists.Â
I loved learning as a child and my thirst for knowledge has developed and grown deeper. Many of my friends at school would argue that knowing the name of the sepals, stigma and stamen, reduced their innate loveliness. I argued the opposite. The more we understand, the deeper we are able to look and the more we look, the more there is to know and cherish.
The 2nd February was Imbolc half way between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.
As my hedgewitch friends were watching the dawn and leaving offerings, I finally refound my motivation that had seemed to seep away along with our daylight hours in the last weeks of December and I set my year’s resolutions. I wrote some clear achievable targets and celebrated being able to walk outside after 5pm without a head torch by taking a dusk walk though the woods.