Author Archives: Amanda Tuke
1st March 2020 – the sweet scent of a sun-tracking weed belies its reputation
I’ve raced past the wooded railway bank so many times on the way to the platform and half-wondered what the fist-sized round leaves were which swamp the woodland floor. Today on platform 2, I see a number of drooping pink flower heads among the leaves just over the wall at the perfect height for a […]
23rd February 2020 – a glossy yellow cup under a creaking oak
T, H and I stand on the path over the rail bridge looking up at an ivy-smothered oak. It’s creaking loudly and rhythmically in the wind which, while more gentle than in our recent storms, still has a degree of power behind it. “Does that mean it’s going to fall down?” T asks. I admit […]
17th February 2020 – fruit tree relics
The gravelly stream bed sparkles in the morning sun. This temporary stream flows under the gate and down to the old railway track, a trickling reminder of yesterday’s rain. The water has cleaned a channel through the layers of mud and leaf mulch built up over this winter. I stand in its path and watch […]
2nd February 2020 – a tiny forest
I’ve begun the habit of walking very slowly through the woods on a Sunday morning. As I hear single chime from St Stephen’s church on the other side of the woods, I reflect that this is my worship. At this ponderous and mindful speed I notice tiny things which I suspect would otherwise be a […]
26th January 2020 – new tree green
There is green everywhere in the woods, that’s true, but there’s a point in the year where I crave something fresh and new. Winter would definitely be a darker time without the yew, holly, ivy and the bramble leaves which seem to keep going indefinitely despite pretending to be a deciduous plant. Today that’s not […]
19th January 2020 – frost flowers
I walk along the morning dark of the old rail bed to the meadow clearing. Here, unprotected by the canopy, the hoar frost has captured everything green and growing its icy grip. Under a protective oak, a frothy profusion of cow parsley plants have taken advantage of the mild weather we had last week. […]
12th January 2020 – a tease of spring
I set off on this mild, gusty morning with a sense of purpose. I’m confident I’m going to find my quarry in the woods today as there were early signs last week. In the denser areas of woodland, I look upwards and see the tantalising glimpses where the hazel stems have reached patches of sunlight. […]
5th January 2020 – Ivy
The evergreen gang are such a relief in the woods at this time of year. I walk early and enjoy the visual pleasure of glossy yellow green ivy, darker yew and cedar and blue green holly. Other than these and some persistent bramble leaves, it feels like the plant world is holding its breath. Some […]
14th December 2019 – Goldcrest
The sight broke my running pulse. It stopped me in my tracks. I catch my breath. A tiny bird inspects each side of every branch and twig of a hazel sapling on the edge of the path where I’m running. As it’s still for tiny fractions of a second, I struggle at first to tell […]
23rd November 2019 – Back garden blog – texture
Our back garden is all about texture at this time of year. Stripped of a season’s green frivolity, its skin is revealed. In one corner sprawls a youthful crab apple. The bark still gleams in patches but shallow splits are forming down the main trunk. The brittle curling edges of each split are dusted with […]