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Bristol , United Kingdom
Poet and poetry facilitator. Neurodishevelled. My sixth poetry collection, Love the Albatross, is available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.
Showing posts with label Narroways. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Narroways. Show all posts

Tuesday, 29 September 2026

Walking the September Woods

Being laid up with Covid - or rather, laid low by it, plus the sudden death of my lovely cousin, Heather - I've decided to cheer myself up by looking back over the September walks I went on with Cwtch before illness struck. 

We visited our usual haunts, including the various woods on Purdown:



Pale Plantation is looking very autumnal already due to the early leaf drop from the horse chestnuts, and the trees in the park are colouring up too, especially the hawthorns ...



water mint, blackberries and haws, cyclamen

... though the really big change from summer is the flood of light into the summer-dark woods, making deep-thicket skulkers like Cwtch and me feel quite exposed. 


Long Wood


The last hole in the ground Cwtch will stick her snoot into for some time

We did try a different route up onto the ridge one day, via the lower part of Sir John Lane, where there was another small, feral wood to explore and the open spaces of South Purdown. 


Below Purdown, the River Frome is flowing more volubly than it was a month or so ago, although it's still quite low.


Wickham Glen


Snuff Mills


A tributary of Stoke Brook, which is a tributary of Bradley Brook, which is a tributary of the River Frome, at Webbs Wood, Three Brooks Nature Reserve

Meanwhile, the grass that was so sere is now green again, having completely forgotten the hot, dry summer.


Kings Weston Down at Blaise


assorted fungi

It's a funny thing, but you can sit for hours a week in an office, say, and hear nothing of any interest at all - just what offers the local carvery had on last weekend and how a certain dress from ASOS is so cheap, you could wear it once and throw it away and it wouldn't matter (yes, really!) - and yet bump into a volunteer stacking cherry laurel logs by the side of a path, have a chat for five minutes, and learn that a) cherry laurel wood contains cyanide, which is why you shouldn't burn it; b) there are nightjars in the woods - here in North Bristol! - which he knows because he found a feather and would you like to see a photo of it?!; and c) there's another wood just a mile or so away, which is fabulous at bluebell time and which you didn't even know existed. 

So, even though it's another six months till the bluebells start coming out, we decided to take a look at the wood, which is called Thirty Acre Wood and part of the Kings Weston estate.


As you enter the open space above it, there's a view down to nearby Avonmouth and the River Severn, which includes the newer bridge.


I found the wood quite hard to get around - it's spread over a series of rises and dips - but despite the usual type of rubbish that blights feral urban woods, it had its moments and I'll definitely aim to get back there next spring to see the promised swathes of blue.




Why would you screw some really old screws into a fallen tree, at a level too high to be a boot scraper (even if it wasn't in the middle of a wood)?


Part of a very extensive badger sett


A piece of carpet, released back into the wild and living its best life



We also visited a couple of places we hadn't been to for a fair while, namely, Narroways, where there are ponies within a couple of miles of the city centre ... 



St Werburgh's


Horfield Brook

... and Splatts Abbey Wood, tucked behind the MOD complex.




light emerald moth




Trees are still dropping large parts for themselves following a second excessively hot and dry summer. I think the woods could be pretty dangerous to walk in this winter, especially if there's an increase in the frequency of storms, as feared.


One of the paths at Snuff Mills is still reminding me each time I go there of where I am.


As for the season of falling feathers, it's just about done, though there have been some great finds this September:


tawny owl, jay, magpie, ring-necked parakeet, thrush, green woodpecker, sparrowhawk, buzzard, wren

This includes my biggest find this year, a buzzard primary ...


... and, on the same day, the joint smallest, my second wren primary of the season ...


I think it's largely by chance that I spot wren feathers; they are so tiny and I struggle to make out the pattern on the anterior vane without reading glasses. (I still live in hope of finding a tail feather one day, though.) 

My September tally also includes these two green woodpecker tail feathers to add to the two I'd already found in August, and absolute beauties they are too.


Finally, two more jay covert feathers to make a (surely final) total of sixteen - if you don't count the thirty-four I found at a predation site on Purdown, which I don't because you can't really celebrate finding all those feathers at once, and I'd much rather the bird still had them, even if it's the circle of life and all that. 




Thursday, 2 April 2026

A spring in my step

The bluebells are beginning to flower, which means my spring delirium will soon be in full flood and it's time to catch up on how early spring played out in my Bristol haunts.


Actually, Cwtch the Collie was unimpressed with our first bluebell. The initial signs are pleasing, though. This was Badock's Wood this morning.


And not just bluebells, obviously. 


Mill Tut round barrow


The River Trym

And here it is a couple of weeks ago, when the blackthorns were out in force.


Of course, not all our walks have been sunny. There was an atmospheric walk around the floating harbour early one grey morning ... 



... and another down Boiling Wells Lane and up onto Narroways, while I was waiting for new tyres to be fitted on my car ...


... but on the whole, March was definitely more a lamb than a lion. Here are some more of the flowers that are popping out all over.


white violets; alexanders; alkanet and larch buds; dog's mercury; scilla; blackthorn; celandines; comfrey; speedwell; wild strawberry; fumitory; lady's smock (cuckoo flower); pussy willow; wood anemone; honesty; yellow archangel; wild garlic; greater stitchwort; violets; herb Robert; dead nettles; lungwort  


Cwtch in the primroses

The Trym meets its main tributary, the Hazel Brook, downstream on the Blaise estate. I don't go down there that much, on account of all the well-heeled locals clattering past with their walking poles, pretending to be in the Alps, but I did nip down to the Henbury village end and wandered along the banks of the brook to Bradford Mill.




I also hobnobbed with two of my favourite trees in the open space above the valley:


oak



veteran sweet chestnut

On the other side of the Hazel Brook, blackthorn on Castle Hill. I love this spot in the early spring ...



... and also the area between the two hill forts on Castle Hill and Kings Weston Down, that always feels to me like a place where time is wonky and ghosts are on the move.
 

There was plenty of blackthorn out at Winterbourne too, when Cwtch and I went for one of our favourite walks out by St Michael's Church and Monks Pool and Bradley Brook nature reserves ...




Monks Pool nature reserve


Bradley Brook Nature Reserve


... though just the general viridification of everything is exciting enough.


The River Frome at Snuff Mills ... 


... Wickham Glen ...


... and Purdown

With the earth becoming less slippery, it's easier to scramble about on the look-out for bits of pottery. 


In one of the lanes leading down to Wickham Glen, some of the above sherds had been dug up by a fox ... 


 and at Purdown I came across lots of bottles outside a den on an old dump.




With the demise of all the scarlet elf cups, there isn't much fungi in evidence:


On the other hand, the local birds are now at their busiest and much in evidence, particularly the wrens. I managed only a few poor photos of a crow, ring-necked parakeet, and the kingfisher we often see down on the stretch of the River Frome between Eastville Park Lake and Wickham Glen.


There was also a magical afternoon when the wood was filled with jays, their wings catching the spring sunlight.


I found a rather tatty, bedraggled tawny owl feather, which is a very early outlier of the moulting season.


We even saw a rabbit up on Purdown, which ran into a thicket of brambles when it noticed Cwtch. 


Each morning in spring
I conduct with a baton
my dog's Ode to Joy