With wild whoops and yells five children chased down the wooded hillside and straight into the stream below without pause. None had wellingtons; the water was a good six inches deep. Still laughing and chattering, they rummaged around, their clothes becoming saturated. The frantic adult who was, in theory at least, in charge of them, scurried to the footbridge, issuing stern instructions for them to come out. Slowly, reluctantly, they obeyed, their trainers squelching and oozing water onto the footpath.
Anston Stones Wood holds delights to suit many tastes. For me a sedate stroll is enough. The woodland floor is a lush green with the fresh leaves of wild ramson. It is going to smell wonderful in a few weeks time. With the tree leaves not yet out, you can see clearly through the wood, taking in the large expanse of spring flowers which the limestone supports. The first wood anemones, celandine, even a wild strawberry, have opened their buds to the light.
After writing about the wood last summer, I received a letter from Jenny Hinton, a lecturer at Rother Valley College in nearby Dinnington. Her group of students plan to draw, paint and write about the plants of the wood, hoping to exhibit their work at a Royal Horticultural Society Exhibition in London. The aim is to encourage observation, learn the identification keys, gain knowledge about the habitat and associated plant communities. After some discussion they have decided to focus on plants particular to the magnesian limestone and the flowers of trees. This last subject is often overlooked. Yet, once discovered, they are as beautiful and spectacular as any other blooms. Another delight offered by Anston Stones Wood.
By late afternoon the wind had dropped, blue skies and a low evening sun probed through the treetops, spotlighting a fallen ash, victim of the recent gales. Splintered about two-thirds along its length, the white heartwood gleamed in the sunlight. On the upturned root plate a clump of wild ramsons has sprouted vertically, seeking the light, but at right angles to the fallen trunk. It will take more than a howling gale to stop the spring.
