A Walk at Henfield and Westerleigh

It stopped raining, and the cloud cover lifted just enough to reveal a moon in all its blueness. A straggling flock of pigs flew past. 'Let's go for a walk,' Son the Younger suggested. 'I've sorted a route.' 

Our walk started in Howsmoor Lane, a rural relic that now staggers through the ever-expanding suburb of Lyde Green. Much of the start of this route we'd already covered more than once: Lyde Green Common, the oak in the field by the M4, passing under the M4 and heading north along the Dramway towards the lakes at Windmill Fishery. 

From here, we crossed Westerleigh Road and - shortly afterwards - a disused railway line that once served nearby Ramhill Colliery (for we were once more walking the South Gloucestershire coal field).  The colliery wasn't on our route, but I made a mental note of its location and will aim to visit some other time. 

The lane leading to Box Hedge Farm

Just before we reached the farm, we turned right and walked along a ridge with views to Lyde Green in the south. It was cold, with a thin wind blowing, and boggy underfoot, and I couldn't help thinking what a lovely walk it would make on a breezy summer afternoon. 

On the edge of Westerleigh, we encountered some ponies, which were the highlight of the walk for me - though not for Cwtch. They ignored her barks and little rushes from the other side of the fence and strode over, apparently hoping for sugar lumps or carrots, of which I had none. 

We were now heading south, back across Westerleigh Road towards the local slaughterhouse, where the squealing of pigs reminded me of the one just down the road from where I lived in Taunton forty years ago. It's a horrible sound and a horrible business. 

We crossed the Westerleigh branch via the level crossing ...

... and headed back towards the M4, crossing Folly Brook and under the carriageway where the railway line terminates.

We were now back in familiar territory, having walked this part of the route - along the Bristol and Bath railway path - almost a year ago when we visited Brandy Bottom colliery. 

The remainder of our route took us along the side of the ring road and the edge of some of the new housing. It was starting to rain and I felt that, had I been in charge of the walk, I might have cut it short at this point and returned the way we set out, but I wasn't and the full six miles had to be completed, come what may.  It was mostly enjoyable, though, with good company, and I plan to explore some more of the area soon. 

Between two bridges

 It was a clear, sunny day towards the end of a particularly wet, dark winter, so I put on my melt-the-ice solidarity hat and headed to Aust on the banks of the River Severn, for a dose of light and wide blue skies. 

It was very bright on the river, which wasn't great for taking photos of either the old Severn bridge (my favourite) or the cliffs, which were deep in shadow, but no matter, it was just good to be out and about somewhere - well, not new, of course, but different, all non-essential road trips having been limited of late. 

We picked our way across the muddy warth up to what passes for a beach and on to the old bridge. 

In the foreground, the remains of a wooden frame to which putchers (withy baskets) were attached, for catching salmon.

Aust is famous for its fossils, but I didn't find anything pocketable this time. 

On the return leg, a view of the rather less beautiful, but still impressive new Severn bridge, which isn't all that new anymore, I suppose.

The path that led to the ferry buildings of the Old Passage is gated now, and the gate chained, all the buildings having been demolished in 2019, but there's still a route through the reeds to the shore.

It's poignant to see the rotting remains of the jetty, the start- and end-point of a crossing that served for thousands of years, with the bridge that replaced it in the 1960s in the background ... 

... itself now largely supplanted by its newer, more windproof counterpart, three miles downstream. It's a pity the ferry buildings couldn't have been rebuilt, rather than pulled down, and repurposed as a Museum of the Severn and its crossings. 

Ah, Cwtch, a stick that's too big even for you

Snowdropping at Painswick Rococo Garden

First jaunt of the year with my friend of longest standing, Liz, who kindly drove me and Cwtch to Painswick Rococo Garden in the Cotswolds, my impinged shoulder still being troublesome. 

It was in a Painswick tea shoppe, on a very rainy day in 2008, that we adopted the idea of 'The Jaunt' from our former French teacher, Janet Foster, who'd died eight years earlier at the age of 50. The inordinately enthusiastic Miss Foster had been an inveterate jaunter, and we decided that was what we'd do too - make time in our busy lives to go to new places. And we've both done that, although not often enough with each other. But now Liz has all but retired from teaching, there's a little more scope for getting out and about, and for novelty - something the dopamine-seeker in me craves. 

Rococo is my least liked of all the styles when it comes to interiors and architecture - in fact, I loathe it - but nature improves everything, and the garden is a pleasant place to be. Having been laid out in the 1730s, it was subsequently altered as fashions changed, and by the 1950s, it was covered in conifers. It was restored in the 1970s, using a 1748 painting by local artist, Thomas Robins, as a guide to what the original garden looked like.

First, we went for a wander through the maze, which was a lot less challenging than it would have been in full summer foliage ...

... though of course, the experience we were mostly there for was the snowdrops.

There are, apparently, fifteen different species in the garden, out of a total of twenty known species. 

'The Fairy Tale Castle' carved into an old beech stump

The Gothick alcove

Winter aconite

The Pigeon House

Painswick House, built in 1737

Cwtch and Liz