A meander to Little Waldingfield via Priory Green beckoned today in the continuing fresh, spring sunshine. It's time to start listening for the first cuckoo to confirm what the early swallows and the first lambs have already hinted: summer is nearly here.
I started from Butcher's Lane in Boxford, following the road through Horner's Green, then left at the stream and up the footpath along the edge of a field, with Groton church tower ahead and far-reaching views towards Castling's Heath to the right. I turned right at the road, then left through Groton Croft, past the venerable mulberry tree of Winthrop fame, looking for the tiny lambs which had appeared here the last time I visited. Sadly, those symbols of spring were elsewhere today.
I followed the path across the Croft and on to the Edwardstone road, where I went right, then first left at the footpath sign. This path leads along the edge of a field, past a farm yard, then bears right to a junction. Here, there's a choice - left and back on to the road towards Edwardstone church, or right, straight across the middle of an arable field, towards the houses at Mill Green. Today, I chose right, intending to come back via the lovely footpath from Edwardstone church into Sherbourne Street. The recent dry weather made life easier than usual here. I didn't have to squidge my way across the clayey soil today, unlike in winter, when I have often ended up dragging a heavy mud canoe on each boot by the end of the path and spending several minutes stamping in circles like an excited toddler to rid myself of them.
Reaching the road at Mill Green, I turned right, then first left, past the White Horse pub, round the corner to the left, past a farm which I think of as the guinea fowl house (because a flock of them often assemble by the hedge to hurl verbal abuse at passers-by), then on to the end of the road at the junction with the Great Waldingfield road. I continued on the road until I reached a footpath sign on the right, pointing straight across a large field of rape seed, now just reaching the custard-yellow stage and starting to emit its strange signature scent. It was not yet quite at its full, air-filling intensity, nor high enough to coat my whole body in golden dust, as it will in a week or so.
Here, there are extensive views across to Hagmore Green, with its landmark fir trees, and towards Assington, with its twin masts. The landscape today was a thousand shades of pale, spring green, gradually fading to meet a hazy, blue sky.
At the end of this path is another choice, if you want to head for Little Waldingfield: either left towards the road, or straight ahead to Priory Green and the footpath across the fields. I was walking a loop, so I opted for the road first, down into a small valley, then winding up the hill, at times with the tower of Little Waldingfield church appearing directly ahead, as though growing out of the road, perfectly framed by the overhanging branches. At other times, the squat tower of Great Waldingfield peeped mysteriously out of its cover of woods, off to the left.
I walked through Little Waldingfield, stopping to look at something I had never noticed before: the old telephone box, now transformed into an "Information" post. This houses notices on everything, from the law on picking up dog poo (bag it AND bin it, please!), to public transport to the Sudbury supermarkets (don't miss the bus back on a Thursday, or you and your shopping will wait 5 days for the next one).
I turned right at the junction with the main Sudbury road, the pavement soon running out abruptly, just before a bend, leaving me abandoned to the mercies of endless traffic. I was glad to get off the road again at the footpath on the right, which leads back towards Priory Green, down a long sweep of a hill, with wide views to either side. Again, from some angles, Great Waldingfield church tower gingerly poked its head out from the greenery. Then another head appeared from an unseen hiding place and a hare bolted across the open field to the right, a shooting star across the landscape. I watched it, almost shocked, for the instant it took to clear the length of the field. Seeing one on a walk always feels like a private gift from the place which provided it.
The path emerges on a tiny road leading to a couple of old farm houses. I turned left and followed the road to a signpost on the right. Here, the footpath follows the edge of several fields with hedgerows now filled with blossom. The cherries took over from the wild plums some time ago, but now they have been joined by the first wild apples, just opening their scented mini-roses, to the mumbled delight of thousands of bumblebees.
A herd of cowslips, hundreds strong, were holding up defiantly under the hedgerow, against the onslaught of the new season's grasses. It's great to see them in such profusion; a few decades ago, it was rare to come across any at all. I remember none from my childhood rambles (which, I must admit, were more than a few decades ago). I knew what they looked like only from a picture in a book by Cicely Mary Barker.
The last field before the houses at Priory Green I think of as the Lightning Tree field. At the far side is a tall, dead tree, probably an oak. Although it is some way from the footpath, its strong shape against the horizon gives it a presence which adds to the sense of remoteness here. It appears to have been there for centuries, the victim of a stormy night and a random lightning strike beyond living memory.
After the Lightning Tree field, the path took me to the left, then right, round the edge of another field, where I have often seen more hares and, for some reason, herons. The footpath back on to the road has recently been diverted a little further to the east, where it now goes past a huge oak, with a fabulously gnarled trunk, just opening its red-tinged new leaves against the blue sky.
Priory Green is a tiny hamlet, each house interesting and entirely different from its neighbours. The gardens here today were all shimmering with blossom, cherries in white and every shade of pink, collected from all across the globe to meet in this corner of Suffolk. I walked left, then back down the road to the juction with the footpath across the field from Edwardstone.
Turning left at the end, I followed the road round to the right and eventually over a stile and on to a footpath leading uphill across a meadow with a picturesque stream running through it, a collection of equally picturesque old oaks and hawthorns, and Edwardstone church completing the scene at the top. I took the path to the left of the church and followed it back across the fields to Sherbourne Street, stopping as usual to admire the lovely meadow just after the church, where a line of ancient horse-chestnut trees, just starting their annual candle-parade, frame another wide-reaching vista across the countryside to the west.
And suddenly, there it was. "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo."
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