If you go down to the woods today

When you go down to the woods today,  

When I walk in Courtown woods I am constantly experiencing the unexpected as I amble along the various forest paths each with its own individual colour and character. When I stroll along the tree domed Horse Chestnut Walk it has that feeling of being in a forest cathedral. I look up at the roof of the forest and I feel engulfed with awe and reflection inspired by the artistry of the soft green light filtering through the ceiling of closely knit green leaves.

 The scent of forest summer growth is pervasive with the fading wild garlic still a dominant odour about. The bluebells have taken a nosedive back into mother earth for another year.

My camera is on overdrive shooting pictures of the paths and capturing the light and shadows in addition to viewing the maturing of trees and shrubs I encounter as I ramble along on my walk. I meet people out jogging, others walking at a hectic pace bedecked with headphones. I prefer to walk at a pedantic pace so that I have time to observe and mentally note any changes in the surrounding arboreal world

This week the flowers have all but disappeared from the horse chestnut trees. Now the dark palmate leaves are sheltering little newly emerging spiky conkers announcing that we are in mid-summer in another year.

The sycamore trees are filtering magical light and shadows as I stroll along which cast soft shade of greens on the thriving forest undergrowth creating a very relaxing atmosphere.

As I head on down the path to The Ancient Cross of Kilbride I stop to admire a regular summer visitor to this area in the form of the two great specimens of elder bushes. When I see these with their lovely lace like fragrant white flowers, I think of the people who come every year and pick them to make elderflower cordial or later making elder wine with the dark purple berries. I laugh internally when I remember the lady who insisted that I took a photo of her elder cordial recipe. She later brought me a small bottle of her concoction which tasted very nice indeed.

The folklore of Kerry is full of elder myths about its magical properties. People grew elder bushes near the house to keep the devil away. I remember some crafty people carved out the inside of an elder branch to make a whistle. The elder was often called The Judas Tree because Judas Iscariot was reputed to have hung himself from an elder tree.

As I leave this territory, I notice the sycamore trees are maturing for another year with some in full bloom with their clusters of gorgeous pink flowers while others are discarding their sycamore helicopter seeds. The year is really moving on when this is happening in the arboreal world.

In this area of the woods, I am on the riverside, and it comes alive with river noises and is humming with bird song. I note a robin and blackbird hopping along close by me on the green verge, as if they are creating a distraction to lure me away from their nest.

I progress along the bank, up the steep steps, past the great cedar of Lebanon and on to the Spike Bridge. This is in a much more perilous state than last time I crossed over. There are now two boards rotten that have fallen into the river underneath leaving a treacherous gap while the side rails are now beginning to fall apart. It is an accident waiting to happen.

I am now on the Coillte side of the forest. This is different terrain, and the paths are dry and well drained. The vegetation is also different with a lot of Herb Robert and Cleavers growing on the edges. I just revel again in childhood memories of this plant. Everyone had their own special name for it such as catch weed, stick molly, robin run the hedge, sticky willy, goosegrass and more. People of old used it to curdle milk for cheese making.

I don’t like it when it gets into the garden, it entangles itself in all garden plants with its unfettered, untamed invasive growth.

Across the river the giant Cedar of Lebanon is lording it over the other trees of the forest. It is a noisy spot when crows take up residence in its upper regions during nesting time.

I now stroll on to walk on the path parallel with the Ballymoney road and turn right in the forest instead of going out and joining the Chicken Farm Road.

The sight of all the healthy specimens of Broad Buckler Ferns, taller than myself on both sides of the path in front of me is beauty personified, I stop to internalise the image. I take a photo of it in case I want to experience the sheer joy of it all again at a future date.

When I leave this behind me the territory ahead is just one symphony of greenness with vibrant nettles, thistles, Japanese knotweed, cow parsley and more cleavers surrounding my chosen narrow path as I progress onwards on my woodland experience.

This rustic Courtown symphony of green is interspersed with some lovely elegant purple foxgloves with their bell-shaped flowers standing tall.  I noted the occasional dog rose showing off its lovely purple flowers.

The background sound effect is soft with the gentle blowing of leaves in the wind, the sound of water babbling along and birdsong overhead. This is pure rustic bliss. As Shakespeare said ‘Give me excess of it’

I have never seen more blackberry bushes in full bloom which should give us a record crop. I am looking forward to the homemade jars of blackberry and apple jam appearing in Myles Doyles Select Grocer’s window later in the year. Yummy.

As I walk along, I detect some lovely orange honeysuckle. I go over to smell its light-yellow flower with the sweet aroma. I wish I could bottle it and bring it home.

I pass the Giant redwood with its distinctive rough bark. My thoughts turn to California and their huge Redwoods. I continue walking through the forest of sally saplings, more rhododendrons, and honeysuckle.

Meanwhile the river is gently ebbing its waters downstream while the birdsong is still echoing all round me in the woods to remind me that they too are still there and adding so much to the richness and charm of my forest experience.

Now I recross the Spike Bridge and head for home down by the Courtown Canal with its own separate eco system. On the far side a lone fisherman was casting out his line in search of some elusive trout.

I checked my phone, and it told me that I had traversed 7478 steps in the ancient woods of Courtown. I felt invigorated, refreshed and very hungry after my two-and-a-half-hour sojourn of talking and walking in the ancient woods of Courtown on the 8th of June 2025.

It was time to head for home to replenish my own energy system.