Gorgeous old trees warm my heart on very cold winter’s day

GOLLY, it is cold. There is a sharp frost this morning and a bright blue sky above.

I am expecting my friend Matthew Coome, who is coming for another outing.

Before he arrives I step outside my mother’s house to feed the birds and they are hungry. The resident robin and some dunnocks queue up for seed.

Looking around the front garden, I can see blue, great and long-tailed tits, which are very vocal, and a horde of redwing — there must be at least a hundred of them.

Another bird takes me by surprise. The male blackcap sings his heart out within full view and I’m charmed.

Once purely summer visitors, many of this species have taken up residency over the last 20 years or so. I hope that the cold snap isn’t too much for this songster to bear.

Matthew arrives on cue and off we go. We are on our way to Highmoor Common Wood, a segment of old forest that is part of the Nettlebed Estate.

With any luck, we might see a herd of fallow deer.

I have not visited this woodland for years so I’m looking forward to seeing what has changed.

Roadworks in Emmer Green mean that we have to take a detour along Henley Road and uphill, skirting Caversham Park Village to our left with open farmland on the other side. As we ascend, I admire the thin strip of Milestone Wood to our right that has always fascinated me.

Once the eastern boundary of the historic Caversham Park estate, some bare patches by the roadside host wild orchids in early summer, bee, pyramidal and common spotted.

Joining Peppard Road and passing a small pond on a bend, we note some frozen slush on the road, a reminder of the temperature and road conditions.

I always enjoy the sweep of the land on leaving Sonning Common, the dip into Stony Bottom and the rise to Peppard Common. After a short while, we pitch up outside one of my all-time favourite but now extinct pubs, the Dog and Duck. It holds so many memories.

We think the possibility of seeing any deer unlikely as a gang of workmen is repairing a multitude of potholes on the drive to Merrimoles House and beyond. It is a noisy process.

As a matter of interest, these holes can be valuable to wildlife as sources of water.

If you are very lucky you may even spot the elusive heavy-billed hawfinch drinking from one. These birds spend nearly all their lives high in the canopy, unseen but heard.

Matthew searches for a place to leave his car. Generously, the highway maintenance men move their vehicles to provide a space for us to park out of the way.

Stepping out of the car, I spot a small dead cherry tree that abuts a section of unmarked footpath that cuts through to the main road. The cherry is not that old so I don’t know the reason for its demise.

A largish dog-rose is laden with fiery-red, fresh hips.

We step gingerly around the friendly workmen and head on into the trees.

Highmoor Common is a typical, south Chiltern deciduous wood dominated by beech with plenty of oak, cherry, hazel, ash, holly and hawthorn thrown into the mix.

Cherry trees (Prunus avium) here can grow extraordinarily fast and tall but never rival oak and beech for age.

They are easy to discern with their striated, sometimes coppery bark and, of course, they give themselves away in spring with their beautiful flowers.

The blossom is short-lived but an uplifting sight, especially when it falls like confetti.

Fallen, dead cherries rot very quickly. Kick an old trunk on the ground and more than likely it will fall apart and you’ll have a dusty pair of boots.

An indistinct young tree is covered with clinging woodbine, or honeysuckle (Lonicera periclymenum).

I love the summertime when the heavenly scent of this climber’s delicate, creamy-yellow flowers fill the late evening air. Red fruits appear in the autumn.

The plant can grow to more than 20ft high and there is plenty of it here.

A patch of green stands out up high above against the sky, a Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris). The tree is also given away by its orange-red bark.

It has to have been planted a good while ago as it is not a native here but handsome nonetheless.

There are some fine old beech trees to our left and further in as we move on.

These include some dramatic dead ones that my late wife used to say resembled multi-armed giant Daleks. Now they’re more disintegrating than exterminating.

Today the stumps are falling to bits but still look somewhat sinister.

The robust, living beech trees that line our path are fascinating. They have many small to medium-sized lateral branches, forceful twists in the trunk and defiant earth-gripping roots.

They communicate through co-dependent mycorrhiza, an unseen but vital symbiotic fungal friend.

Most of the younger trees are bent or leaning eastwards. The prevailing wind has historically been from the south-west. I think that it is possible to read the history of not just a single tree but of an entire wood etched over time.

As we turn back, I’m a bit out of puff so rest up against a five-bar gate.

Below, cuckoo pint is poking through with early glossy leaves, although we are still in January. Rebirth afoot.

We have to negotiate our return to Matthew’s car by stepping around the maintenance men’s vans but not before I spot a lone, battered-looking crab apple face-on to an open field.

It looks as old as the hills, stout and undaunted. I’ll be back to look at it in a month or so and stride through the bracken to see how old it may be. We bid our goodbyes to the crew, jump (not in my case) in the car and head back to Caversham.

Matthew thinks to take an interesting route back. After climbing back at the northernmost tip of Sonning Common, he turns left into Blounts Court Road, past a now frozen Widmore Pond.

We pass Crowsley Park to our left, Crowsley hamlet to our right, then rise past walled Coppid Hall that brings us to a notorious crossroads.

Matthew takes a right. We’re heading towards Emmer Green, straight past The Belt.

On our left and onwards to Thanksgiving Lane many sweet chestnut trees grow. They bear sumptuous, edible, fulsome nuts. I’ll gather many later this year as they are wonderful for a poultry stuffing or just eaten raw.

Just a little further on we pass another pub casualty, the Coach and Horses.

We then meet yet another crossroads, passing a tiny larch tree on its own.

Matthew turns into narrow Row Lane, where oak trees on our left are spaced every 30ft and then into Sandpit Lane past the Loddon Brewery.

We head through Dunsden Green, where my great grandparents lived, and downhill into Playhatch.

I must thank Matthew for taking me out for a short but enjoyable walk. Another splendid day.

vincent.ruane@hotmail.com