Page 3 - The Lyminge Newsletter - August 2022

Margaret Saunders’ Meanderings

Unable to follow my intended route due to the cattle resting in the shade around the gate I needed to use, I changed my
plan and stayed in the meadow, deciding to walk to the far end. I had already walked along a footpath where I had seen
St John’s Wort, its bright yellow flowers standing tall. Traditionally this plant was used to treat wounds and was often
hung up in doors and windows to prevent evil spirits entering the house. Alongside
this flower was white bedstraw with its sweet perfume; pale flax which is a rare plant
found on chalky soils; small bindweed with pink and white striped flowers; the fruiting
‘clock’ of goat’s-beard (a grandfather clock compared to the smaller dandelion clock),
otherwise known as Jack-go-to-bed-at-noon and sleep-at-noon, names referring to the
flower’s habit of closing around midday, and patches of brambles, covered in flowers with
a few green berries already formed for early summer
picking when ripened in another month or so.
I had taken the upper track in the meadow,
following the dry path which was overhung by
hawthorn branches and crowded in on either side by brambles as I headed towards
the gate at the far end, where I would leave this field for a short stretch along the
road before joining another footpath. Admiring the views of land and sky, it was
at this point I saw the cattle clustered together, looking as if they had no intention
of moving from their comfortable spot. Earlier in the week I had watched them
walk in single file, eighteen of them, steadily moving westwards in the heat of the
afternoon, their heads moving up and down with each footstep and their colours of
tan, black or chocolate brown, harmonious and pleasing to the eye. The dominant
member led the tail-swishing herd without faltering along the well trodden track
until they reached a spot in the shade where they stopped, spread out and began
to feed. But back to today. Dropping down to the bottom of the valley and well out
of sight of the animals, I embarked on Plan B and decided to wander along as far
as the path would take me. I passed a blackthorn tree which some time ago had
blown down in a westerly gale, its split trunk open to the elements, with some of the
branches and leaves still clinging on for dear life. Just to one side of this tree a huge
patch of brambles was in flower and a clump of woolly thistles grew tall and strong,
spiky leaves protecting it from foraging animals. Hawthorn berries, already showing
signs of red ripening at their tips, adorned nearby trees.
I reached the bottom of the valley and walked westwards passing spent cowslips,
their seeds ripening in the sun. Clover, both red and white edged the path and
here and there ragwort stood head and shoulders above all other growth. Grasses
galore swayed in the strong wind, shedding their seeds far and wide. It is the month
for meadow brown butterflies and they were rising as I walked, easy to identify as
they close their wings when they land. Marbled whites, their markings distinct and
striking were everywhere. These butterflies have very specific needs and appear only
on chalkland, so I deemed it a privilege to have seen them. A butterfly alighted on a
thistle which looked similar to a 5 spot burnet, but once home I managed to identify
it as a rare variety that has yellow as opposed to red spots. Eventually I reached the
end of the meadow and turned to my right to look at a patch of ground left to its
own devices at the top end of a field of oats. Immediately I could see that this was
a wildlife haven, untouched by human or animal. It was alive with insects visiting
the colourful and diverse flowers: in the purple and pink spectrum were common
mallow, vetch, small toadflax, scabious, self heal and lesser knapweed. White flowers
consisted of ox-eye daisies and hogweed. Yellow included buttercups, bird’s-foot
trefoil, taller than in the main meadow, mouse-ear hawkweed, rough hawkbit,
nipplewort and yellow bedstraw. And I am certain there were many more that I did
not spot. I took time, leaning on a fence post, to absorb the beauty and bounty of this
rich patch of neglected ground, watching a small skipper butterfly flit from flower
to flower. Finally and reluctantly I left this treasure trove and returned along the
dusty cattle track, with its angular diversions around
saplings, making for a zig-zag and meandering route,
close to the hedge where young hawthorns spilled
out, as yet too young to bear berries. As I walked, the
strong wind caused the hedgerow to rustle and the
trees to roar.
I found three types of orchid here in three separate
locations. In the far western area it is the domain of
the dark purple pyramidal orchids, the middle section is where the bee orchids bloom,
stunning close up but difficult to spot amongst the grass, and the most eastern section
is where the common spotted orchids grow, so called because of the purple oval spots on
their leaves.
If I had to choose only one walk, it would be this one. In each of the seasons it has so
much of interest and I feel blessed to be able to take advantage of all it has to offer. Not
for nothing is the area in which we live designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

Editor: pbarnes20@icloud.com 3 Tel: 01303 863737