Country diary: The finest autumn colour we’ve had for yearsNEWS | 15 November 2024Last week, it was village fireworks that lit up the Whitfield Valley. Today, the woodlands are glowing with reds, oranges and yellows in a dazzling display. Wet weather has kept the trees hydrated, while warm temperatures have held back leaf-drop. The woods around Cupola Bridge are a place to slow down and experience the best autumn colour for years.
The bridge is named after a cupola lead-smelting furnace that stood nearby where the waters of East and West Allen meet. Spanning the conjoined rivers, the three-arched bridge has bulky breakwaters and castle-wall solidity. The view downstream is of great slabs of limestone pavement, crevassed into rectangles, splitting the river into two levels that form sideways waterfalls down its middle.
We take the path that heads for Staward Gorge, where the ruins of a medieval pele, partly made from recycled Roman stones, stand on top a promontory. The way runs under a steep hillside of ancient semi-natural woodland; we spot indicator species such as sanicle, woodruff, dog violet and wood sage. Tumbled rocks and crashed trees show how frequently the land slips, the emerald green of mossy boulders accentuated by new-dropped russet leaves.
View image in fullscreen ‘The pumpkin, lime, turmeric and saffron of beech leaves.’ Photograph: Susie White
The trees are a medley of colours. The pumpkin, lime, turmeric and saffron of beech leaves. Lemon yellow sycamore leaves on wine-red stems. With sunlight behind them, the beech branches are black silhouettes, their illuminated leaves suspended in organised patterns.
With shortening days and light levels dropping, trees stop producing chlorophyll. As the green pigment fades and trees withdraw sugars from their leaves, all those reds, oranges, browns and yellows that were always there are suddenly revealed. You can know the science behind it, but still be wowed by the depth and exuberance of the colour.
There’s scent too: the earthy smell of decay and the sweet sandalwood of silver birch. Coppice hazel poles are tightly bound in honeysuckle vines. There are deer prints in the rivers-edge sand, and a buzzard takes off from Scots pines high on a cliff on the opposite bank. As we drive home up the twisting ravine, I look back to see fold after wooded fold blazing into the distance.
Country diary is on Twitter/X at @gdncountrydiaryAuthor: Susie White. Source
