Things have certainly turned autumnal around here, decidedly cooler and high time for the return of our ever popular ginger cake. On my recent walks over the surrounding hills I’ve noticed how the harvest is finally completed, albeit considerably later than usual due to the dreadfully wet summer we’ve endured. The bales of straw have all been gathered and the stubble ploughed. Cultivators and seed drills have followed the plough and sewn next year’s crops, leaving many of the fields with the neat and tidy look of a freshly-raked seed bed.
In addition, a few fairly chilly nights have encouraged the leaves on the horse chestnut and field maple to turn to various shades of yellow and red, with the oak and ash showing signs of soon doing the same. The blackberries on the hedgerows are past their best now, but it seems to have been a bumper year for fruit and many of the gardeners in the village have placed boxes of surplus apples and pears on the pavements, offering their produce free to good homes. I do my bit to help and stuff a couple of apples in my pocket as I set off on my evening ramble. I always take the same route, up over Windmill Hill, round behind Compton Wynyates, along the edge of Bluebell Wood and back down Lady Elizabeth’s Hill. Although the route is always repeated, the journey is never the same for me.
There is something new and different to enjoy each time. Whether it is observing the change in the seasons, the advance in the agricultural year or, best of all, the encounters with wildlife – buzzards, rooks and rabbits are virtual certainties, hares, foxes and deer rarer treats.
On my most recent walk it was a species I generally try to avoid that provided the high point. As I walked along the margin of a recently sown field of winter wheat, gritting my teeth in the face of a very cold wind, I became aware of an old, retired farmer I sometimes nod a greeting to as he exercises his dog along this same section of my route. This time he and I were keeping level pace together, separated just by the roadside hedge. Up close, I noticed his face was weathered to a shade not dissimilar to the caramel-coloured earth I was walking on, and both he and the old collie had an unhurried look about them that said they too were enjoying the autumn evening. “A bit nippy tonight” I said. “Arr” he agreed “’ers a cold blow, but you’m got the berra soide o’ th‘edge”. Even if I was on the better side of the hedge it was decidedly cold so we parted with our more customary, silent nods.
Not sure why I enjoyed this meeting so much. Maybe it was a welcome reminder that a few genuine Warwickshire characters, the kind of people I grew up with, remain in this area that I love so much – we’ve not been entirely overrun by well-heeled commuters from London or Birmingham after all. Or maybe it’s just that I’m turning into Rambling Syd Rumpo, another colourful character from my youth!
Buy this months Cake Club cake
Ginger to warm you all up.
Julian Day
