Yew Wood Too....

I took into my head to look for another wood to walk in....a wood that I had not yet been to...a wood that was nearby and easily accessible....a wood that was deciduous, mixed and hosted a river of some sort....a wood on the doorstep, as it were....but different to the wood that was already on my doorstep...er.... as it were.
So, after a quick glance at the local map, I tootled off in the car heading for the deduced arboriality. (good word..suspect it doesn't exist though).
The ten minute or so drive that took me to my intended location was a pleasure itself to be honest. I left home and was soon sedately pottering along  the quiet leaf-dappled back-roads, window down, relishing the slowly rolling views of greenery through the summer-thickened hedges and tree-arched avenues that were starting to hint at changing their hues into this year's autumn colours.
As I passed, I acknowledged the welcome presence of the usual suspects of Rook, Crow and Magpie going about the business of being Rooks, Crows and Magpies....

and also, along the way, noticed a constant blurring of Swallows constantly dotting the sky in their ceaselessly deft flight patterns as they, too, went about doing what Swallows do......

On the outskirts of the small but perfectly formed village that was, according to the map, the starting point of my little excursion, I parked the car verge-bound and after closing the car door behind me, paused for a few moments as I attuned to the instant quiet of a country silence after the constant car-rumble of my drive. I say a country silence, because it rarely is a complete silence.....my ears began to pick out the subtle tapestry of characteristic sounds....wood-pigeon cooing...

.the occasional craark of a Rook....a distant sheep bleat..a very distant buzz of a chain-saw....a couple of barks from a field-far dog.....the silly clatter and squark of a near-by Pheasant....the underscore of haphazard delicate tweets and twitterings of guessed at Blue Tits....etc etc...

The air was still and mild and had a feel of gentle dampness to it, and just like the start of the changing leaf-colour, the air itself seemed to be hinting at the autumnal change of season...
I wandered on along the roadside for a short while looking at the thick Hawthorn hedge alongside, ably supported by multi-stemmed Hazel and coppiced Ash, (the hedge that is..not me) and presently came across the almost un-seen niche in the hedge that offered entry into the wood. Nearly smothered by an old Yew tree, a very weathered and bramble-wrapped wooden signpost kindly pointed the way in....I obeyed.
The overgrown leaf strewn pathway led me steeply down away from the roadside hedge and down the thickly wooded slopes, across an ornate stone bridge,

into a 'secret' winding valley. Within a few minutes of leaving the road, I was completely enfolded into the woodland.... and it was clear that anything that had ever happened outside this ancient and peaceful habitat was unknown by it, was irrelevant and would ever remain so. I continued to follow the faint course of the pathway down amongst the arching Beech, Sycamore, Oak and Birch whose overhead leaves were jointly embroidered into a canopy of a graded greens and browns, throwing dancing shades of light and shade onto the soft ground beneath.  
The promised, and hoped for river within this wooded sanctuary quietly began to whisper its song, and as I approached, the bracken-ish water glistened in a reflective, sparkling dance and it's tune of pebble-splash and gentle gurgle became a little louder, and its tinkling refrain became a constant gentle tune to the quiet wooded chorus.

I continued to walk along the tree-sloped gentle riverside... the slow, shallow course of the water interrupted by a smattering of lushly mossed rocks....and the occasional fallen branch....each causing a silver line of eddy and lazy swirl as the flow rounded and moved on....
I wandered on...
I rounded a bend, and set a little back from the pathway and nestled well in to the wooded slope behind it, a curious stone archway was revealed.... and on closer inspection it became obvious that some sort of 'folly' or grotto had been imaginatively constructed, long ago, out of the rock...with a short low tunnel leading under the path to the river.....

An unseen flight of geese honked its way noisily overhead, the sound of their passing intruding like a very slow doppler effect through the trees..... I startled a Robin

into bad tempered admonishment of my presence and a rather insistent Pheasant

barked its stupidity at me from the other side of the  river.
In the middle of the path was a colony of mushroom-like fungus that had quite clearly decided to flourish copiously in that one specific spot..and no other, as far as I could see.

I momentarily left the far end of the wood, to emerge into an open meadow of gorse-lined pasture and stood still for a moment, and as I stood, a large Buzzard

airily took off from high up in the trees in front of me, circled a while, and floated off out of sight over the distant tree-tops.......The edge of the field was bordered by a couple of houses with a paddock that was home to two clearly contented horses setting a scene of rural idyll...

and alongside me in the hedge, I noticed the seasonal berries were almost ready for the picking...

A 'single-seater' aeroplane then passed over.....somewhat more noisily and far more intrusively.
I turned, and as I made my way back through the water-side trees, I once again became absorbed into the special quiet atmosphere of the ancient, shrouded woodland....enjoying and sensing that indefinable feeling I get from being within that specific environment...
I slowly made my way back to the car,  rising out of the deep valley and emerging from the half-hidden exit point the way I had come...the vale disappearing behind the hedgerow behind me. As I leaned on the bonnet taking a drink of water from my flask before heading off,  a couple of motor-bikes turned the bend half a mile or so up the quiet lane I was parked beside, and approached quickly, very quickly, obviously making an increasing amount of noise as they did so.....they roared passed me in a cacophony, all day-glow leathers and exhaust,  leaving a wake of fleeing, squawking and panicking fauna behind them....
I totally appreciate the genuine pleasure and thrill one must get from riding a motor bike along a winding country road, but can't help thinking.....well, y'know..