Autumn's Approach: A Roadside Harvest in the Oxfordshire Countryside
Beyond the familiar landscape of coppiced hazels at Pinsley Woods, near Church Hanborough, stretches a vista of shimmering golden wheatfields. A small lizard rustles through fallen leaves, its noise surprisingly prominent. High up in the hazel branches, squirrels busy themselves with the early harvest, dropping ripe cobnuts – a local term implying a gentle toss – in anticipation of the coming autumn.
The nuts, still soft, display subtle hues of green, a blend of lime and apple. The filbert, a longer variety of hazelnut, bears a name tied to St. Philibert of Jumièges, whose feast day on August 20th traditionally marks the nut's ripening. However, the squirrels, unconcerned with religious calendars, leave behind empty shells bearing the marks of their eager teeth.
Roadside Bounty
The roadside verges are now adorned with the vibrant reds of hawthorn berries. Plum, sloe, and elderberry branches are heavy with fruit. Unexpectedly, wild apple trees emerge, forming impromptu orchards along the roadsides. Unlike formal, enclosed orchards, like the one I discovered last spring at Wolvercote, these are freely accessible. I remember observing a flock of long-tailed tits flitting like silver blades through the branches of a lichen-covered tree.
This scene brought to mind Ralph Austen, whose 17th-century treatise advocated for fruit tree planting as the ideal way to improve land. He recommended using pigeon and hen dung, along with cattle's blood, as fertilizer, envisioning fruit trees as a means to feed the poor and discourage barley cultivation for beer production.
An Apple Interlude
Some of the roadside apple trees boast fruit as dazzling as Christmas ornaments. Windfalls scatter onto the roadside, tempting passersby. Yet, few stop due to the constant flow of traffic. But today, driving along the A420, I feel compelled to take a chance. I pull over, stepping amidst the striking purple of viper's bugloss and common mallow. I wonder how many of these trees originated from discarded apple cores tossed from passing cars. I approach a tree bearing small, cherry-sized fruit, more akin to crab apples. I bite into one, discovering a tart, refreshing flavor, lacking the intense sweetness of cultivated varieties. This apple, in its unrefined essence, encapsulates the changing season. Like the squirrels, I, too, feel the anticipation of autumn's arrival.
