The Woods at Philorth

Grey Granite and Rufus explored the woods at Philorth this afternoon and rejoiced to have the freedom to wander about at will whenever they chose. The margins of the wood are carpeted with celandines, golden in the sunshine. Deeper in the wood there is a dense carpet of wild garlic, the spathes ready to burst open. The dense, pungent foliage was in places taller than Rufus who explored eagerly bounding through the leaves, emerging with a distinctly Gallic smell. The reddish look to the trees which we noticed at the weekend comes from the sycamore buds which are just starting to burst. Sycamore seems to be the dominant species - hundreds of seedlings are growing in the dubby path. There are also occasional larches, with the most wonderful new green needles, a magnificent horse chestnut just starting to open, and elders with their fingered leaves already formed. Here and there are elms, again just budding. Grey Granite suddenly recalled the Browning poem, 'Home Thoughts from Abroad, memorised 47 years ago 'and who ever wakes in England, now that April's there /Sees that the brushwood sheath round the elm tree's bowl is in tiny leaf '.

This walk was a taster carrying the eagerly anticipated promise of longer explorations further afield as Rufus develops.