Golden streams of light glow through layers of altostratus clouds. It’s reflected upon the yellowing Elm which stands out: Bright in contrast to the evergreen Holm Oak and leafless Ash, whose canopy is already bare, excepting the hanging keys of winged seeds which still cling to the branches.
More brilliant yellows can be found upon the Norway Maple and Beech, though you have seek out these autumnal tones as there aren’t many to be found. The developing Hazel coppice looks pretty good for colour too.
It’s calm and quiet through the woods, apart from the occasional Carrion Crow and scratching of Squirrel claws. My boots squelch along the wetter sections of woodchip path and I listen to the sound the seashore in the distance. At one point I mistake a falling Sycamore helicopter for a butterfly. Wishful thinking.
Heading down through the woods I pass between the open light glades and through the dark sheltered understory of Holm Oak. Some of the glades were brushcut a few weeks ago, though Wood Dock and Stinking Iris already reappear. In one glade I was careful to cut around a small Spurge Laurel – the only one on the park, I’m sure of it. I was really pleased to find it as two other known specimens had succumbed to the surrounding Winter Heliotrope.
Further down the coast path I’m saddened to see a scattering of sawdust from one of our Black Pines. Planted in Victorian times, these non-natives don’t naturally self-seed, and this one had to be felled last week after it dropped onto the path. It brings our total down to 44 (excluding the copse), but we have planted some more saplings and are growing on some seedlings at the Shed.
Towards Sunnydale I finally get to hear some bird song, with repetitions with Robins verses, tinkling from passing Goldfinch and chirping from a Wren. And then, my favourite sighting of the morning: A little Goldcrest (Britain’s smallest bird) busying itself amongst the Viburnum.