Showing posts with label ancient woodland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ancient woodland. Show all posts

Monday, 4 October 2010

October woods

Monday was glorious - after days of rain we were treated to a balmy remnant of summer and despite suffering yet another cold I felt drawn to the woods as if seeking sanctuary there.


All manner of insects had emerged to enjoy this treat - from little red ladybirds zooming furiously about, like small red flying machines, to a large bumble bee queen clumsily bustling hither and thither; she was over an inch in length and making her presence felt. I was headed to the central beech grove where I knew I would find many toadstools - sadly several had been kicked over (a personal bete noire of mine).



These rather ugly specimens are, I think, 'Charcoal Burners' which vary in colour - I didn't think to rub them at the time, which would have been the give away as the skin is greasy to the touch.

These are new to me - Velvet Shanks - I didn't discover until later that they are edible, though the rather slimy coating is a little off putting.

This was a great natural composition, the trio of Panther Caps - with a little flash of violet behind the far left hand one -

Which was a pair of pretty tiny Amethyst Deceivers next door to an even smaller unidentified toadstool.

As is this one; I trawled my fungi guides but could not find it. The cap was a magnificent 6 inches wide.

Now that autumn is falling upon us, the woods take on a witchy, tangled atmosphere. I startled a Muntjac deer somewhere in this density, which began barking a loud alarm call. It would only have be the size of a small dog - knee high - but it sounds like a creature three times it's size.

Another Panther Cap - pleasing to look at, but very poisonous. They are commonly confused with Blushers, which are technically edible, but the two are so similar I would not risk it. The Panther Cap is much darker and it's stipe (stem) remains white when broken...

...while the Blusher is a pretty apricot-buff colour with a stipe that tinges pink when damaged, hence the name.

Towards the end of my walk I found this pretty theatrical scene, a setting for a fairytale, the spotlight of sun just waiting for some one's grand entrance and the fungus nestling in the tree roots like an elaborate stage piece.


Only two hours of rambling around, alone in the woods and when I emerged the sun was still hot.

Waiting for me quietly in the hedge, was Marjorie, my new travelling companion. If you read my other blog, then you might know that poor old Hercules, my trusty bone shaker who has featured in so many of my blog posts here,
came to an ignoble end and is in retirement. But I can certainly go faster and further with young Marjorie - and yes, she is firmly locked to the fence.


ADDITIONAL NOTE - I am merely a hobby fungus spotter, my identifications are not to be taken as expert opinion and I am always happy to be put right. Do use a good fungus guide relevant to your part of the world if you want to be certain of anything.

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Escape to the woods Sep 27

I had forgotten how deadlines suck time away like a black hole. It is too easy to get mired down in work and let the day disappear. As it was a working weekend, my outings have been fairly short and on Sunday it was a mere jaunt to the woods, before everyone was up and about. We appear to be having a bit of a drought; the winter wheat is poking its head up, but the earth is dust and stones.
The heart of these woodlands is where I find total peace; they are the remnants of ancient woodlands which used to stretch over the county until they were gradually cleared to harvest timber and make room for roads and agricultural land.
With the gradual onset of autumn, they are tangled and wild; there is witchiness in the air as I quietly tread the little footpaths. The morning is getting older, and from the outskirts of the trees I spy a village basking in the sun.
Knowing I have a workload to get through, I keep my walk short and find the grassy lane which leads me home.
Ahead I can just spot the exit from this magical place, which will take me back to the fields.
Somewhere in the bushes, his rusty wheels perfectly camouflaged against the autumnal hedges, lies Hercules and in the distance I hear the timeless chiming of church bells.
We rattle back to the village, pleased to have avoided meeting too many people and even more pleased to find the honesty table laid out. I buy a large cauliflower which is destined for something cheesy and hot, and drop my payment in the box.

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