Morning sunlight, turning leaves, early colour bursts and moody sheep…

Tuesday 22nd September 2026
Walk start time: 9.01am
Walk finish time: 10.02am
Walk area: Maritime footpaths and woodland
Miles walked: 1.6

The changes creep beguilingly across the leaf scattered pathways, bursts of vivid colour, softer, lower sunlight, and a breath of magic in the air.

I walk the pathways towards Maritime industrial estate this morning, glee at the feel of the autumn morning filling my boots.

A still warm early sunshine winks at me in promise through the trees, and a fluffy ginger cat eyes me in lion-like challenge – this is my pathway…thou shalt not pass…

Around the equinox, most of the trees around me are still green, and this year, I relish this.

The scorching summer rendered some of the landscape more vermillion than verdant, and being out in nature in the airless humidity turned simple excursions into marathons.

September is a welcome breath of change, but I am in no hurry for the greens to disappear this year. I take in their vibrant hues as I traverse the pathway, imagining their roots and leaves now nourished with water after surviving the parched months before.

Amongst the greens, the first bright yellows offer changed brilliance to the morning light, and scattered reds burst warm depth through the foliage.

In August, I walked among thickly strewn dry leaves – the trees protecting themselves from the drought by shedding early.

Now, at the seasons true turning, the dustings of brown leaves feel right and comforting, like gentle drifts of autumn promise.

The path alongside Nant Gelliwion crosses the river toward Shoni’s pond, or it loops back up into the young woodland that was once a mining wasteland.

(see also Forest life from the coal dust – another early autumn forest walk)

Once part of the site of Maritime colliery, this part of the landscape has grown- rich and diverse- from the bones of a huge spoil heap.

In a clearing at it’s entrance, dappled sun scatters the oaks, and the softness of the autumn light beckons in every direction.

Before I ascend the rough wooden steps up the slope, I notice that a path has been cleared across a culvert, opening up a new direction through the woodland.

I have never been able to resist a new direction, so I cross the narrow stone bridge and follow the path up an incline.

At another culvert, the path on the other side disappears, but believing I can still see it’s shape, I cross and push through the brambles for a few metres.

I cannot progress any further, though I’m sure this was once a track, but I stand amidst the brambles and young tree growth, the river rushing soothingly beside me, birds calling distantly throughout the woods, and simply enjoy the spot for a moment.

There is no pathway here, and no destination, just me, mingled with nature, her gentle sounds and possibilities surrounding me.

Before returning to the oak clearing, I take another branch of the cleared pathway that follows the culvert upwards toward a dead end.

Crab apples litter the shallow sparkle of water in the gulley, and I notice that another sideways culvert meets it near the top.

It looks so inviting, a secret pathway hidden halfway up the hill – even if it is a drainage system.

I have a bit of history with culverts, having widely decided to include them in my wanderings on previous occasions and slipped onto my bottom in a variety of ungainly fashions. Those that appear dry, but are actually covered in a some sort covert mossy booby trap slime have proved particularly treacherous.

But this one is covered in nice crunchy leaves….and it’s so lovely…

Finding a safe place to cross the main downhill gulley, and hoping for the numerous apples in the water to provide some sort of ballast, I step into the leaf filled tunnel on the other side and follow it’s course.

After just a few metres it seems to transform into an actual pathway, which frustratingly, disappears again almost as soon as it starts, the route in front now filled with tangles of young trees and brambles.

I am very used to this sort of behaviour from pathways by now however, so again, I simply stand and take in the all consuming peace and the gentle warmth of the early autumn colours in this secret place.

Back at the oak clearing, I ascend the steps under the canopy, the occasional leaf falling softly past my shoulders to join its neighbours in the earth.

The strengthening morning sun brings golden light through the greens, a saturated warmth of hue so unique to September.

Our senses are naturally drawn to contrasts, light and shade, hard and soft, bright and muted – and early autumn contains some of the most wonderful contrasts in nature.

They are subtle contrasts that inveigle their way into your senses, warm sun with the faintest chill on the breeze, vibrant greens strewn with soft bronzes, bright flowers amidst browned leaves.

Shapes and colours, merging and contrasting with quiet insistence.

As the bolder colours of summer flowers fade, our awareness of colour is heightened – the eye searches, the mind seeks – in a landscape of softening hues.

On the pathway before me a colour seems so bright in the distance I think it must be a late wildflower on the edge of the path.

As I approach I realise the striking patch of brilliant yellow is the reflection of the morning sun on the underside of a fallen ivy branch.

So impeccably, wonderfully simple – but a moment of boldness, of contrast, of complete immersion in an image that pulls you gently into the season.

The pathway opens wide here, muddy tracks with tumbling grasses between, and numerous saplings trying their luck on the edges of the light filled clearing.

As the sun rises and warms, gentle mulchy scents are released from the earth – a balm to the senses – and the light twinkles from dew sprinkled oak leaves.

Towards the end of the stretch of track, a blue sky with fluffy clouds whispers promise for the day ahead, and a similarly fluffy squirrel vaults from one tree canopy to another across my path.

The trees he athletically forages across are a literal bridge between seasons- still green boughs mingling with russet browns.

It is early enough in the season that bold sparks of colour from flowers and berries feel all the more intense in their contrast to the changing leaves.

The hedgerows around me are strewn with harvest offerings.

Scarlet holly berries and plump rosehips, nectar from late blooming flowers, all provide bright abundance and a welcome feast for the autumn birds and insects, even as the vivid colours of summer fade.

The last part of the pathway crosses the top of a field, in which a sheep glares intently at me while I take in the sweep of the valley in the autumn sun.

The vista feels gentle and golden, filled with a momentary sense of nature pausing to rest.

I think we have to pause here too, to let our senses catch up (see Into the dusk, Into the autumn)

As my walk comes to an end, I stop and breathe deeply, absorbing the early magic of the season turning, and the soft warmth of September.

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