Life’s a Beech

20151101-DSC_2318We live in the Cotswolds, or rather in a Cotswolds town. We like walking, but we don’t go nearly frequently enough. Funny how when something’s on your doorstep you make less effort. Today, however, the sunshine was glorious, rain forecast for the rest of the week and we would have been VERY SILLY not to go. Even the drive was pretty good, all the roads are dressed in autumn silks at the moment.

 

 

So we went to our favourite dry valley. These gently curving valleys abound in the Cotswolds and were formed during the ice age. This one has a sign on the first gate saying “This is a bridle path – NOT a gallop!” If I were on horseback I’d be severely tempted…

20151101-DSC_2325

As you walk up the gentle slope there is mixed woodland rising to your left – ash, beech, oak, birch – and to your right a wall of glorious beech trees (Fagus sylvatica). It’s a walk that’s good in any season.20151101-DSC_2338 20151101-DSC_2340

I think of this valley as the valley of licorice allsorts sheep. Today, as well as white ones and brown ones I could see Herdwicks, Zwartbles, one that looked like a Soay sheep, one that was at least part Jacob’s… and everything between.

 

20151101-DSC_2341

We often see buzzards soaring above the beech trees. See that dot?

 

20151101-DSC_2342

Even without visible wildlife it’s hard to look where you’re putting your feet, luckily the ground is pretty even and well-drained most of the way. As you climb the valley it narrows slightly and gets a bit more scrubby, there are hawthorn, blackthorn and field maple and soon you find yourself in woodland which consists mainly of coppiced hazel, with a few sycamore, ash and so on along its border. 20151101-DSC_2357 20151101-DSC_2362 20151101-DSC_2364

We had been accompanied up the valley by a flock of about 14 long-tailed tits and could still hear them as we ducked under the hazel branches. They were joined by great tits and an angry wren. Suddenly there was a loud altercation above our heads and a woodpecker bounced away, with a flash of red knickers. I looked up and Mrs Great Spotted Woodpecker was still there, she’d obviously won the argument. 20151101-DSC_2360

20151101-DSC_2365

Chris looking for squirrels

Meanwhile, Chris was looking for squirrels. There were a lot of them and they were very fat. As were the plentiful rabbits. He likes squirrels.

Towards the top of the valley there are a couple of different ways back. We chose to walk a short but steepish way up the road, where there were lots of sloes and I wished I had a plastic bag with me so that I could collect some. I began to long for a slug of sloe gin.

20151101-DSC_2368

Cotswold barns

At this point there’s a motley collection of buildings: some nice farmhouse/cottage/barn combinations and a pretty ghastly large modern georgianesque house, dominating the southward views with its porticoes and pediments.

 

As we slogged up the hill I was beginning to keep an eye on the angle of the sun. I wanted to get back to those beeches before the light left the valley. At least by now we were walking in a beech plantation, but the straight lines and neat logpiles were not what I was after.20151101-DSC_2380

 

 

20151101-DSC_2379I love beech trees. There was a statuesque one I used to go and talk to on one of our regular dog walks when I was a child. They’re still my favourite. When I die I want to be buried in a cardboard box under a beech tree, like a dead cat. I love their muscular trunks, their luminous young foliage, their autumn glory.

 

 

 

 

 

For now there were thistles. “It’s been a good year for thistles,” I remarked. “Is there anything it hasn’t been a good year for?” said Chris.

20151101-DSC_2399

I was stumped for an answer and turned back to taking photographs of sheep with glowing ears

20151101-DSC_2393

…and paths of gossamer across the fields 20151101-DSC_2384

20151101-DSC_2402At last we were back at the dry valley. Only now we were high on its north-eastern side. The low sun was showing off the curvy contours of the land and turning mounds of old man’s beard (Clematis vitalba) into glowing apparitions.20151101-DSC_2405

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My pace quickened. I could see the outer flank of the beech wood.20151101-DSC_2409

We plunged in. The best thing about this walk is when you arrive inside the wood just as the sun shines straight across the valley, making glorious stained glass windows of the trees. We’d timed it almost perfectly.

I’ll stop talking now and just bombard you with pictures…

20151101-DSC_2412 20151101-DSC_2413 20151101-DSC_2414 20151101-DSC_2416 20151101-DSC_2430 20151101-DSC_2431 20151101-DSC_2440 20151101-DSC_2449 20151101-DSC_2450 20151101-DSC_2462 20151101-DSC_2475

 

 

Advertisements

16 thoughts on “Life’s a Beech

  1. What a beautiful walk. Your photos are truly stunning Harriet and completely captured the autumn light and colours in the Cotswolds as I recall them. I felt like I was there with you.

    Are you a trained photographer? Your photos are always so beautifully framed and captured. A blissful blogpost.

    Like

  2. This is a lovely reminder of the Cotswolds – thank you Harriet. One advantage of living by the Trent however is an abundance of sloes. My gin is gently steeping!

    Like

  3. Thanks for sharing your idyllic walk in the beechwood. I love your photos, especially the ones where the trunks are silhuouetted against the lowering light…Also have a great fondness for Fagus, their absolutely straight leaf venation, their elephantine trunks and their solidity. Some parks and public gardens around here have large specimens of the dark-leaved weeping beeches, but great to see a whole wood full. Also find the coppiced hazel path very evocative…

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s