Phil worked throughout the Spring Bank holiday weekend so declared Tuesday 30th May a leisure day. The skies late to clear, we started a short afternoon circuit up Church Lane and down Saville Road. Among plentiful Welsh poppies, purple campanula and cerise wild geranium adorned stone walls and fragrant hawthorn hung over Colden Water.
On Oakville Road, rays shone through papery yellow poppy petals while deep gold buds were yet to unfurl. Returning via the towpath, marguerites mimicked the bright sun. Rosy rhododendrons hung in ostentatious clumps. Mauve and white cultivated irises resembled tricorn trumpets. Having supplies with us, I asked if Phil wanted a pop stop or a beer stop. “Beer!” he declared, and immediately sped up. As I bagged a table at the canalside pub, he went to the bar and came back out to say they’d run out of cask ale. We resorted to tasty but pricey lager. On the homeward stretch, vibrant orange hawkweed lined the banks and cute goslings paddled in still waters.
Warm but breezy at the start of June, I fought indolence for the promise of wild irises in Nutclough. On the way, my old art teacher waved at us from Northlights’ doorway. We’d forgotten his exhibition and entered to peruse his interesting new work. Up the shortcut, fancy poppies took the place of the Welsh variety. On Foster Lane, fat bees hopped among pale pink dog roses and aquilegias.
The clough’s entranceway still blocked by vans, the gate was unusually locked. I lifted the creaky latch on the side gate and we picked our way through the thickly overgrown side path. A pair of crows squawked in overhead branches. Worried they didn’t like us, I hurried through but Phil stood to laugh at them arguing with each other. The top of the swamp even more overgrown, we forded the low brook to the islands to see a red dragonfly, creeping buttercups, pendulous grass delicate cow parsley and indigo alkanet. The wild irises towered above all. We crept close to the magnificent display of flowers embedded between spear-like leaves until impeded by squelchy ground. A newly-placed bench and debris round the firepit created an eyesore at the waterfall. We crossed the tree-bridge intending to squat in the sun but unable to get comfy, made use of the metal bench higher up for refreshment. Apples crunched in our mouths. Bees buzzed in laden shrubs. Birds sang in rustling red and green beech foliage overhead.
From the top path, we turned left to Hurst Road. More aquilegia and marguerites, along with herb Robert, hawkweed and the first foxgloves of the season, inhabited the ridge. Descending the concrete steps to Joan Wood, I slipped on round grit and hurt my knee. Careful of my footing after that, I stared at a jackdaw for several seconds until a lack of movement indicated it was stuffed! Fatigued, hot, hungry and thirsty, we took the riverside route into town. Predictably rammed, we went home via the co-op for supplies.
Cool Places - Our Back Yard 