A Walk in the Autumn Woods

 

If you like Autumn (and I lurrve it), then you want to get out as much as possible during the season to soak up that gold into your eyeballs before the glitter fades.
Its a floriade of gigantic proportions, that goes all the way from gigantic trees carrying on like orange lava lamps, right down to dainty sprays of red berries, golden brown nuts and a rainbow of fungi at your feet.
Everywhere is the smell of woodsmoke, the odd bang of crackers and birds singing their hearts out while the going is still good and they haven't dropped frozen to the ground.
We are very lucky to be quite close to The New Forest in the south of Hamphire. It's a mixture of woodland and heath and boggy march and streams crisscrossed by hundreds of trails for the walker, cyclist or horserider.
The forest has all manner of wild animals including larger ones like deer and even its own breed of pony, native to the area.
 Pigs, cattle and donkeys also graze in a semi-feral situation, owned by locals whose families have been doing so for many centuries. Obviously a time-consuming job.
Through this semi-wilderness we set off on a walk very recently. We were folllowing a proper walking trail but decided to buy an ordinance survey map the size of a small country to 'help' us along our way. After being folded twenty two times and turned this way and that, it did indeed offer us a little help. I did my best to ignore teenage comments of -"Why don't you just use your phone Mum?!"
"No, not happening!"
 Firstly I wasn't going to admit I hadn't thought of it and secondly there is no romance nor education in GPS. A map is a magical thing I believe adds to the adventure. I keep my adventures small so it all works out mintily in the end.

The Pub- the real incentive for walkers

Our idyllic walk of course was circular- ending and beginning in a village green, AKA the pub.
But visiting must wait, and with that carrot  dangling, we diverted only to buy a piece of local cheddar and loaf of bread before we set off.
(Our fave walking picnic- bread, cheese and apples- that I can buy them now- fresh and local makes me want to do a little silly dance of smug happiness)
The course we took begins on an actual road- excitingly only one lane and between hedge,s so that you put out a hand to check the folliage for prickles for the time ahead you may have to throw yourself into them.
 Having run that guantlet, I am pleased when we reach actual forest and are walking off road.
I would like to impress you with them names of the trees we passed but aside from the obvious oak and maple and birch, I can only tell you they were very pretty. Every shade of gold from butter to bronze, citrus oranges and browns and reds.
Bracken dying off on the forest floor just added to the whole beauty of it. While the boys trailed behind us no doubt discussing xbox, I walked along saying repeatedly like a loon- "Ooh, isn't that beautiful!' every ten steps. Understandably Fil began to walk slightly ahead of me.

It's more fun to talk about Xbox in an outdoor setting.

Because I would pause and take pictures (Oh now she uses her phone!), I kept stopping and then running back to catch up, much like the labradors we saw people walking.
Dogs here are so polite, like most of the people. Owners say' "Come!" (if they even need to) and the dogs do it. Amazing!
Anyway, eventually we began to see more birch and then fir trees, which could only mean one thing (and that one thing wasn't that I had teleported to Norway), that we had moved to a higher, dryer area. It had been a cold morning so between the bracken steaming dry and the fir trees, I fully expected to see a tyranosaur emerge from the verge. Very exciting!
Up ahead the path got sort of shadowy and I said to Fil with enthusiasm- "What would you do if you saw a faun run across the path up there." (me pointing ahead). Fil raised his eyebrows-
"Well I probably wouldn't register it as a faun." (this isn't really true, if it looked like James McAvoy playing Mr Tumnus he would shoot it, considerably reducing the rsik of my running into him one day)
"Oh my God, how many mythological creatures have you possibly seen and not even registered?!" I almost yell at him.

Where IS James McAvoy?

Anyways. About halfway (it probably wasn't but whenever the kids start whinging we say it's 'halfway') we stopped for the aforementioned victuals. Of course we had already packed pear chutney, butter, apples and still water (tap water).
 Some toadstools kept us company as we kept an eye out for adders. Because the New Forest is on the warmer south coast, it has almost Australian sympathies and has a full arsenal of lizards and snakes, including England's one poisonish snake. I say poisonish because its generally not fatal. But still, any amount of venom injected into my body is wholly unwelcome, so we keep a good eye out for any slithering around our lunch table (pile of logs).
Lightly dusted with flour and cheese crumbs, we set off in seach of the heath we know is not far away. I identify "stone pines" in a loud voice. No-one cares, but I am impressed with myself especially as I cannot tell whether it is true knowledge or my subconscious making it up. Wacky and wily old brain!
The heath duly pops out before us, a mellee of browns with nowt but the odd  tree posing for effect. We have missed the heather flowering and the other flowers, butterflies and fairies of summer, but the heathland still  looks very lovely in it's scruffy coat of browns.
Wild pony backsides are visible everywhere once you start looking (because their heads are down grazing). Like a 'Wheres Filly?' sort of illustration.

'Wheres Filly?'

 Flynn wants to sneak up and hug them all one by one, but I don't know what preferred equine personal space is and I can't imagine being chased by ponies is very dignified.
It is a little bit like being out on the wild moors, but my Heathcliff has disappeared into a thicket of holly bushes up ahead. It's very exciting for me to see wild holly covered in red berries. Not only is it not plastic or on my front door, it is actually a facinating little tree with multiple trunks like a huddle of antelope with spiky hides. I shall gather some real stuff this year for Christmas. Brilliant!
Skipping on...Heathland makes way once more for forest and we wind down into some gullies where streams runneth over ground covered in nothing but a carpet of leaves. 'Tis very pretty but only I still thinketh so. The boys have had enough and Fil is no doubt halucinating pub oasis .
 Still, there a few last entertainments  to be had before we make it back there. Both involve ponies.
Firstly as we're heading down a lane, we see a pony coming towards us, followed by another and another and so on. They turn out to be the most adorable pick pockets that ever tried to eat your coat. We are lighter by two apples by the time they go on their way. Flynn attemts to hug each one, obviously hoping one will follow him home.

Pony highwaymen

And then we reached a VBP (very boggy paddock). It began innocently enough at a stile.
 You know: those wooden things you clamber over, throwing mud from your boot into your eye. Well, I like to think I actually have a bit of stile style. Country blood you know. But on the other side of said stile was a whole lot of muddy goop containing not a bit of animal excrement, due to it being an actual working paddock complete with staring livestock.
Well, of the four of us, let me say only two were wearing sensible foot attire. We all squelched and
skidded our way across this field, not swearing too much because there were two older folk walking behind us doing just fine.
At the far end of the paddock was the final stile,  locates of course at the boggiest spot of all. If that wasn't cause for pause, the pony standing in the way was.
 But wait, there's a second pony, who like an enthusiastic bouncer, pats you down for num-nums before you can even get near the 'stile pony'.
 I made it through alive, cleverly giving Fil my apple and escaping whilst he was being frisked. The boys, in their whimsical footwear stood way back, calling- "How do we get through?"
Now look, if I got some great amusement out of watching them mince their way through the quagmire whilst trying to direct ponies, I make no apologies. What I really wanted to do was video it, but I didn't. Because really I am a caring and thoughtful mother? No, probably more that I simply couldn't hold my phone up and slap my thighs laughing at the same time.
So, bespattered, tired and some of us squelching rhythmically, we did all eventually make it back for a pint at the pub.
Alex and Flynn collapsed their heads onto the beer-garden table while Fil and I went inside for drinks. The pub being busy, meant we didn't get served for at least ten minutes. We did have a good view to the garden from where we waited and we could see the boys didn't move an inch from their collapsed positions. They'd had a ball obviously: the worn-out little mud-skippers.

 

 

 And that's what its all about really: Autumn- fun, fresh air and a jolly good outdoorsy romp.
 Hurrah for Autumn!