Tag: smell

#365daysofbiking A king’s ramson

May 10th – The weather was still excellent the following day so I decided to ride out to another of my great restoratives – the Needwood Valley and Hoar Cross.

On the way, I came through Hanch, the tiny hamlet between Longdon Green and Handsacre.

This small cluster of large houses is old, and there’s a brook flowing noisily alongside the tree-lined lane. In the margin between the two, a veritable forest of wild garlic, or ramsons.

The smell of garlic was strong and heady, and very appetising. This common wetland plant can be used as a substitute for normal garlic and is tasty in stir fries and can make for lovely jams and sauces.

I picked a little for later…

A treat for the senses.

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#365daysofbiking Bending the dark:

November 12th -I returned from Walsall via Aldridge and hopped on the canal there. There was a decent sky and conditions seemed quite still, and this view of an unusually quite marina was an interesting experiment from Northywood Bridge.

Must say the chemical plant nearby was smelling rather fresh. Glad I’m not moored here.

February 8th – At The Parade, as it bisects Brownhills Common, I note the thinning of the conifer plantations continues apace. Many of the invasive trees have now been removed, and light once again reaches the ground beneath them. This is essential work to restore the heath, and it seems to be being carried out professionally and with care. 

The log piles by the roadside are huge and smell beautiful, it has to be said.

January 23rd – on a grey, murky afternoon I cycled down the canal from Aldridge. I’d headed for the canal as I often do to escape the traffic, which seemed overly aggressive as I’d hit it during the school run.

Passing the Weinerburger Brick marl pit at Stubbers Green, I took a look into the void through the fence. It doesn’t get deeper, but it grows steadily, by gradual removal, dumper after dumper of red marl heading to the moulds and then the kilns.

That’s a lot of bricks come out of there. And what a huge scar on the landscape. But the one ever-present thing here – the familiar, warm smell of bricks being fired – is, like Burntwood’s permanent smell of vinegar – one of the ways I know I’m near home.