Bronybuckley Wood

I had to walk down into town the other day, and decided to take the path through the woods.  It was a baking hot day, but I reckoned it would be a fair bit cooler under the trees, and so it was.  From here it's a bit of a pull up through the estate and out along the road to Guilsfield, until a stile is spotted with footpath sign, over on the left hand side.  Over that, dodging the nettles, and down the side of the field, through a gate, and then into the wood.

The way into the wood isn't all that easy to spot, in fact, and the best trodden paths seem to lead you away from it.  I'm a touch reminded of the small and low entrance to the great Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem - and the resemblance is enhanced by the cathedralesque nature of the space you then step into.  This is a mature beech wood, with great smooth trunks rising up like the pillars in the nave of a medieval church, and a monastic stillness (at this season anyway) to go with that.  A few great tits were calling, and a chiffchaff.  Later I heard a green woodpecker, and was disappointed not to see it.  Otherwise, all was still.

There is not much vegetation under beech cover.  A few campions and herb Robert plants were blooming, but little else, just a few brambles, until towards the bottom of the fairly steep path I found some fair stands of the delightfully named enchanter's nightshade.  This is not a nightshade (Solanaceae), but belongs with the willow herbs.  It is able to grow in deep shade, and flowers much later than most woodland plants, with very small white or occasionally pinkish flowers that together can give quite a pleasing impact.  It spreads by creeping stolons which are a very bright white in colour, and can develop (as here) substantial colonies.

I like it, but it can be a bit of a pest in local gardens, as it is quite persistent.  Having said that, it pulls up easily, so is nothing like as much a problem as squitch, creeping cinquefoil or rose bay willow herb, to name three of the familiar perennial weeds I encounter.  There has been at least one garden variety in fact, or so I am told, though I do not think I have seen it.  As a garden plant, it would be grown more for its foliage than its flowers;  the leaves are heart-shaped but fairly undistinguished in the wild, but I think varieties were developed with mottled leaves that I can imagine would have covered some ground quite attractively.

At the bottom of the bank I emerged from the darkness and coolness of the cathedral wood into the bright sunlight and busy gardens of the town, a pleasant stroll that left me feeling well prepared for the choir practice for which I was headed.