bewilderbrain

Friday 16th May 2025
Walk start time: 10.33am
Walk finish time: 11.29am
Walk area: Taff trail, Upper Boat
Miles walked: 3.14

Today did not start well. I didn’t have the best sleep, and my mood was low. The pre-school launch period was managed with reasonable calm, but the prospect of going to two supermarkets (godawful places of commotion and distraction) was filling me with dread.

The house is, of course, full of things which need attending to, but I could feel that my current mood was likely to yield nothing but an increasing frustration with them, and that the day would dribble away without focus or intent.

I mustered my spirits therefore and decided that despite being tired, I had to practice what I preach, and get in some kind of a walk.

The shopping was an obstacle, I don’t enjoy returning from one trip and mentally readjusting to set off again. On this occasion therefore, I did the shopping, left it in the car, and set off feeling decidedly unsure whether I could be bothered from the supermarket car park.

Even with the traffic running beside me, the first distraction was this little flower on a verge, bathed in sunlight.

A slight shift of focus, a slight lift of mood, as I continued past the busy roundabout and onto the industrial estate at the rear, from which you can access the glorious Taff Trail. One turn from a busy road of delivery lorries and the path in front makes the supermarket feel like a thankfully long forgotten land…

I feel my breathing start to even out as I trudge up the path. The green around me is suddenly verdant, breathtaking in its intensity, and any road noise is instantly muted by the trees. I wonder at the many shades of green, sunlight gilding the leaves like individual jewels of spring. Towards the end of this entry path to the Taff trail, the sun drops into pools of blissful shade at the same time as the bird song escalates.

Turning on to the trail proper, there is not another soul in sight, and I walk, breathing deeply, through the dappled sunlight of the tree canopy.

To me, dappled sunlight is one of the most beautiful things you can feast your eyes upon. But this is no objective appreciation of beauty, it’s far more immediate than that.

It does something strange to my senses, a sharp, almost tangible thrill -a feeling, the smell of shaded greenery, the warm tendrils of light hitting your skin, the air of a magical place. Its a physical sensation, at once calming and exciting.

The trees to my left stretch away for 50 metres or so before meeting steeply sloping farm fields. A landscape where field edge meets woodland makes for a diverse habitat, and noticing the variety of birdsong I get out my bird app and record a short segment.

It records three species in one go! A wren, a blackcap and a treecreeper. They might not be thrilling to expert birders, but having found the songs of three birds in one gives me a huge boost and I walk on smiling.

At a more open segment of pathway, with wonderful far reaching views of the mountains, a tiny wren flutters onto an outlying branch of a tree just a few metres from me. I cautiously move to photograph it, and at the last moment it flutters away, but my smile deepens regardless.

The sun is warm in the exposed parts of the path, unseasonably so. We are now on our third or fourth week of dry sunny weather with no rain, and there is starting to be talk of drought. Despite the beauty of the continued sunshine I hope that the forecast rain next week arrives, it will save all the extra watering at the allotment, and I can imagine the plants sighing with relief.

The sunshine on the verge beside me is so intense, even through the trees, that the array of greens look almost luminescent. A vibrant, glowing purity of colour that speaks of spring and newness, fertile earth and fertile hopes for the year ahead. It is a colour you want to soak into. To breathe new energy into your lungs and to fill you up with green magic.

Two small brown butterflies, which I can’t identify because of their darting movement, flutter around each other in ascending, interwoven circles, a ritual seeming elaborate yet totally artless – it looks like dance of pure joy.

In a shadier section ahead, the smell of the Hawthorn, or mayflower, so prominent throughout this month, mingles with the faint scent from some of the last of the wild garlic – that lover of part shaded and damp woodlands, with its magnificent rich and warm aroma. I notice that a small stream or gully wends its way beside the path where I’m walking, lazily reflecting fragments of light.

I suddenly realise that I have walked much further than I intended, I have lost time, a not uncommon occurrence, and I also recall that there are probably rapidly defrosting ice lollies in the boot of my car back at the supermarket. With reluctance, I see a beautiful stone bridge up ahead and decide that it must be the turning point for the return leg – and that perhaps I better speed up.

But first I take in the bridge in the sunlight. I feel the cool stonework with my hands, and examine the long trail of ivy descending as if suspended from the sky. A magnificent and magical spot.

As I turn to retrace my steps I relish the realisation of just how much this short (ish) walk, this brief foray into nature has lifted my mood. For now, I am grounded, myself again, and already looking forward to my next expedition.