A covert ramble on a wild side path, fifteen minutes to absorb the healing balm of nature…
Tuesday 2nd June 2026
Walk start time: 10.30am
Walk finish time: 10.45am
Walk area: Woodland side path beside Nant Gelliwion
Miles walked: 0.5
You might say that today’s walk wasn’t a walk, and I’d be inclined to agree. Except for the intent and effect of a stolen 15 minutes actively seeking nature.
I hadn’t planned a nature quest, photography or any real sort of expedition today, as for the past few days I have been attempting to recover from a whirlwind of busyness.
There is tired, and then there is the intensely drained, limbs don’t want to move, can’t keep your eyes open type tired.
The latter type, where simply slithering off the sofa feels difficult, demands a certain amount of respect and gentleness in approach. And yet – the universality of nature as remedy to both mental malady and physical malaise never fails to surprise me.
Even when I know it from the depths of my being – and preach it everyday…
I had to attend an appointment this morning, it was stressful, it was draining, and whilst all the people concerned were lovely, it has done nothing to improve my flagging mood or energy.
I don’t enjoy venturing into town when my energy is at a low ebb -there is too much noise and distraction – but I realise – as I attempt to hotfoot it away from the busiest roads as fast as my decidedly lukewarm feet will carry me, that I can take the little used woodland track that runs only a few metres away from the main road.
I will at least be transported in a state of more tranquility back to my own part of town.
As I approach its entrance though, a light drizzle starts to fall, and a heady complex scent fills the air – the exuberant firethorn blossoms that flank the pathway’s edges.
Just like that – walking mode switches on – and I begin to see, feel, and think, through the lens of the nature around me.
A few metres onto the track, I stop, take a deep inhalation of the rain washed greenery. The road is close by, but I am shielded here, traffic sound is muted, birdsong amplified, and the air takes on that deeper, fuller quality imbued by the shelter of trees.
Trees – bless their knotty hearts – make us feel good on a biochemical level.
I read recently that the feel- good phytoncides they release (scientifically proven to boost immunity and lower stress hormones in humans) increase in number the older the tree grows.
The more ancient the woodland you find, and the longer you wander therefore, the more potent their rejuvenating effect.
Many of the trees in today’s little stretch of stolen nature are young, and I only have limited time, but this lends a potency of its own to my excursion.
I must absorb every last drop of what is on offer.
(See also another summer short escape walk – Runaway Robins and retreat in the trees)
I walk slowly, conducted by the unhurried songs of the robins and chiff chaffs, my eye roving green tangled verges for shapes and colours.
My newfound obsession with learning wildflowers is being kindled and beguiled by the turning from Spring to Summer, and overall, I am learning fast.
Having discovered that there appear to be approximately 38,000 species of buttercup however, I am yet to start identifying down to the finer points…
Downy? meadow? possibly creeping? But whatever the species a stunning droplet filled burst of yellow joy amidst the greens.
I approach the place where the path begins to run alongside the stream, a culverted section of Nant Gelliwion, and the sound of its soothing rush now drowns any noise but the birds.
The trees here have become taller, beech, oak and beaked hazelnut lending their different tones of green to the watery backdrop.
A bright purple cluster of vetch sprinkles its way through the ferns and grasses beside me, and a wren begins a joyful, insistent trill, as if determined to compete with the cascading stream.
For a moment the sun peeks unguardedly though the trees, glistening on water droplets, highlighting the bursts of pink herb robert and delicate yellow wood avens on the banks.
I wander up a small offshoot to the path, which yields views of the wildly overgrown banks up and downstream. There is not another soul in sight as I stand listening to the rush of water and my only disturbance is the ungainly overhead flight of a pair of fat pigeons.
I continue up the muddy path, whose end now rapidly approaches, and I slow my steps further.
A song thrush accompanies me with one of the more comical intonations of its versatile range – that of a discordant miniature car alarm – its enigmatic calls reverberating through the leafy canopy.
The track continues to offer up the gradually evolving forms and colours of summer, and an unfamiliar delicate white bloom appears – water droplets suspended on its perfect neat buds.
I have apparently discovered a wildflower known rather wonderfully as enchanter’s nightshade, which is actually a member of the willowherb family, and is very much at home in damp and shady woodlands.
At the edge of the wooded stretch, the path turns to cross behind the brick walls of back gardens, and on this unremarkable corner a small cluster of Welsh Poppies peep defiantly from the wall, a burst of summer brilliance that buoys my senses further with its rich colour.
On the approach to the road, the earliest of the blackberry flowers are starting to appear, caught in another brief moment of sunlight, and as I step out from beyond the bramble patch I find I am blinking, as though suddenly awakened from a dream.
My mind and body are still tired, but they appear to have enjoyed a small holiday.
A few minutes of complete absorption in the sights and sounds of the woodland has refreshed my senses, grounding and reconnecting me.
(For a longer summer walk, showing the power of nature and walking to completely transform a mood – See Adventure beyond the fallen oak)
There are days when even the most ardent advocate for nature therapy struggles to believe in the relief to be found on our doorsteps. And it is on these days more than any other we must passionately seek it.
Fifteen minutes. Trees, water, birds, flowers- or even a single one of these things. Tiny, mighty fortifications to the soul.
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