A walk through the late spring woodland on Cadbury Hill begins in cool, green shade, where the air is rich with the scent of May blossom and the garlic odour of ramsons. The path is fringed on one side by archangel, a butter-yellow member of the nettle family which grows naturally only in ancient woodland. A green woodpecker bursts into its uncanny laughing call, known as a yaffle. Sunlight filters through the young canopy, catching on the silver trunks of ash and furrowed oak bark, and highlighting the remnant patches of wild flowers. The old oak tree that I have known for over 50 years still forms part of nature’s sculpture trail, half-wrecked by lightning many decades ago.
Along the woodland floor, spring has scattered its quiet treasures. Wood anemones show their white starry faces trembling at the slightest breeze, opening wide when the sun touches them. Sheltering in the roots of old trees, tiny purple violets cling on. On the woodland edge deep violet spires of bugle rub shoulders with golden cowslips and sky-blue speedwell. Above them on the gentle slope, red campion lifts its rosy-pink petals on slender stems, loose and airy, nodding gently above the undergrowth like tiny lanterns.
The bluebells are fading now but that wonder of an English wood is scattered over the hill in all the remaining patches of ancient woodland. They stand out, even in their fading glory, showing among the carpet of dark green dog’s mercury in blue-violet puddles or single drops of colour. As we clamber with care over the water-worn limestone pavement we pass a holly tree in full flower. Here we stop to hear the bees’ low hum blending with birdsong overhead – blackbirds, robins, and the bright notes of a chiffchaff. The early purple orchids are nowhere to be seen.
When the path emerges into sunlight the view widens onto the slope where common-spotted orchids once grew in their thousands. Here, thanks to the thinning of bracken, funded by YACWAG following a bequest, cowslips are flowering in cheerful clusters, their bright yellow flowers like little bunches of keys dangling from slender stems. They glow in the sunlight, bright and buttery against the fresh spring grass.
The whole walk feels touched by renewal – the softness of new leaves, the brightness of wildflowers, the gentle warmth of the sun, and the sense that every corner of the hill is quietly waking. Cadbury Hill in spring is not loud in its beauty; it is layered, fragrant, and full of small shining details – the kind of place that rewards slow footsteps, a clear nose and a watchful eye.
