Grey leaden skies greeted me on Sunday morning. I had planned to do a bit of pottering on the plot but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. There isn’t a lot that I can do at the moment anyway. A whole week without rain has been welcome but it’s going to take much longer for the ground to dry out enough to be workable. Instead, we decided on a walk around a nearby village. Known locally for its large (and expensive) houses, the village has some beautiful old buildings, a lovely church and some stunning views across the countryside. On a clear day you can look out across the Severn Estuary, with an impressive view of the bridges. There wasn’t much chance of this on Sunday though, the low cloud and fog reducing visibility. I had wanted some fresh air and exercise after spending too much time in front of a computer but as we drove up the hill onto the ridge the fog descended and it looked pretty grim. It was very tempting to stay warm and cosy in the car and just drive home, but we didn’t.
The quiet country lanes make for good walking when most of the paths and fields are just too muddy. Walking out of the village, past the church we came across an old stone wall, running alongside the road. Driving past in a car you would probably not notice the myriad of plants growing in the cracks and crevices. Stood in front of it though, it was fascinating. The damp, shady conditions had created the perfect growing conditions for mosses and ferns to thrive. In parts, the vegetation was so dense it was impossible to see the stones of the wall, so much so Wellyman wasn’t sure whether it was hedge or not and had to have a feel.
Polypody on a mossy covered wall
I love places like this. I was fascinated by hedgerows and mossy covered walls as a child. My imagination would conjure up a world of creatures that lived amongst the foliage, flowers and stones. I wrote in an earlier post about my favourite childhood books being the Brambly Hedge series and this wall was the perfect place to imagine mice and voles going about their daily activities. I’m more interested in plants nowadays, I have to say, than rodents dressed up in aprons and bonnets but I still think there is something quite magical about places like this.
I’m always surprised how I can come across something different, something I’ve never seen before, on walks near my home. There was a really lovely sweet scent in the air but we couldn’t work out where it was coming from. Everything seemed pretty green and we couldn’t spot any flowers so we thought it must have been coming from someone’s garden, hidden behind tall laurel hedging. And then we noticed this.
Winter heliotrope
It wasn’t something I recognised at all but bending down it was definitely the source of the fragrance, its pinky-white flowers smelling very similar to Viburnum bodnantense. At home, I discovered it is called Winter heliotrope or Petasites fragrans, which according to Richard Mabey in Flora Britannica was brought to Britain from North Africa in the early 19th century as a garden plant. It turns out, though, that it is extremely invasive, spreading rapidly. It was certainly everywhere on this walk, covering the roadside verges with its heart-shaped leaves. Considering its seemingly successful quest for colonising parts of our countryside I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this plant before.
Navelwort
Navelwort, or Umbilicus rupestris, was another plant in abundance. A lover of damp climates it is particularly at home in the south-west and Wales. Strangely though, I discovered it is a member of the Crassulaceae family which are known for their succulent, fleshy leaves that store water like the house plant, the money tree and stonecrop. The name Navelwort derives from the dimple in its round shaped leaves looking a little like a belly button. And in summer it sends out spires of tiny bell-shaped flowers, apparently, which I’ll have to remember to look out for.
I loved the rich green of the mosses and the delicate foliage of maidenhair spleenwort and polypody ferns. The enchanting little world was completed by the spiders webs glistening with moisture and this collection of tiny fungi, looking like an illustration from a fairy tale.
Fungi
What had initially looked like a pretty uninspiring walk had turned out to be a fascinating way to spend a few hours.
wellywoman 
It’s amazing just how much there is to see and learn about on walks not too far from where we live. I’m really lucky that we have some great walks nearby, though one has just been cut short by a new housing estate being built, so sad.
That’s a real shame. I wouldn’t mind so much if the houses they were building blended in a little more in their surroundings and they gave them decent sized gardens so there was a lot of greenery about but they don’t. There are some beautiful walks and scenery in your part of the world. We’re lucky in this country really that we’re never too far from some great walking and views.
Isn’t it wonderful when a walk gives so much enjoyment. The wall is just like a tapestry with its different textures and yes, I can imagine lots of little creatures living in it! Navelwort lives on one of our banks in the garden, yes it does have spires of flowers but they are creamy/green so don’t show up very well, like very tiny foxgloves!
Definitely, especially when I didn’t expect much from the walk really. The flowers sound lovely even if they are small. I like these really small plants that make you get up close.
What a great post – thanks.We walk our lanes and pathways daily and always discover new things to stimulate the senses.
Fascinating. We took a local walk on Sunday too, in the rather grey world, and like you I always examine the verges and banks we pass with interest. I tend to notice navelwort more when it does flower, and spires of little white bells rise out of stone walls from nowhere.
Shame that the winter heliotrope is so invasive, it would be a lovely scent to encourage in mid-winter otherwise.
That Winter heliotrope looks very lovely. It must be related to the annual known as the Cherry Pie plant which has a strong scent of cherries and vanilla. It’s amazing what you can see and learn on walks in what appears to be a dormant season.
Anything that relieves the brown twigginess of the winter landscape is welcome – it’s amazing what draws the eye once the hothouse colours of summer have faded. Bright yellow cowslips are given space in my veg patch just for that reason! Your Winter Heliotrope photo has saved me hours of research: I found some flowering in a border I have to cut back and didn’t know what it was but think it’s beautiful – now I’m tempted to dig some up and replant!
Every year I say I must get some cowslips but never do. Go easy on the winter heliotrope it sounds like a bit of a bully. It was growing all over the village making a bid for domination. It’s such a pity because its smell was beautiful and the flowers were really pretty. Maybe you could confine it somehow, a bit like you would a mint. 🙂
I need someone like you to accompany me when I go out on walks – it’s so much more interesting to find out what all the plants are called!! My lovely old gran used to know all the names, but sadly she’s not been with us for many years now. And when she was, I was too young and impatient to listen – I had eyes and interest only for the gorgeous big strawberries and juicy gooseberries that she grew in her much-loved garden!
Hedgerows are lovely to examine in more detail at any time of year, but what a delightful description of all the things that you found and smelt too! The winter heliotrope looks very pretty.
I think that taking a walk when it is misty or murky is worthwhile as we then look at plants nearby, like ferns and fungi, when otherwise we’d probably overlook them. They often make good pictures as well. xx
How fascinating! There’s so much to discover when you’ve got somebody with a bit of knowledge with you.
As you suggest WW driving past in a car does not reveal the extent of what is growing in all the nooks and crannies. I’m sure that scent carries more strongly when it is cooler and imagine that the winter heliotrope must be a magnet for any insects brave enough to be out there. I would quite happily sit by one of those Brambly Hedge firesides tonight.
Not sure I’ve ever seen the winter heliotrope before, WW. But given your advice I shan’t be planting any. I once saw a steep bank smothered in wild garlic, bluebells, ferns and moss. It was on a wooded steep slope not far from you on the Gower. One of the prettiest and simplest plantings I’ve ever seen – and without anyone touching it. Dave
I love the mossy wall, there is indeed something magical about such things. I think the beauty about a walk at this time of year is that you have to look closely to see anything interesting, but when you do, there is so much to admire and enjoy. Of course I am also wracking my brains trying to work out what posh village you were in and around…