An extract from The Cuckoo Calls The Year by Pete Stroh
Posted by Lydia Unwin on
An evocative extract from The Cuckoo Calls The Year by Pete Stroh
‘By the time I reach the entrance to an ancient part of the wood, the scent of hawthorn in full bloom has overpowered distant rape crops. The hawthorn flowers have a complicated, musky perfume thick with almonds but with jarringly fishy undertones. The smell is divine to some, verging on repulsive to others. My receptors fall on the ‘divine’ side of the debate. It draws me in through a gap in the hedge, into dappled sunlight and a patchwork of blue, white and green layering the ground beneath gnarled multi-stemmed field maples, spreading hazel coppice and sturdy oaks, some wrapped in ivy with stems as thick as my leg. Black ash buds have begun to split open, releasing pinnate leaves held to attention on long green stalks. I’ve chosen a good time to visit, as the recent thunderstorm, and especially the heavy rain, has helped to cleanse the air of dust, aerosols and other particulates and has, through gravity, released chemical compounds bound up in the earth and vegetation, heightening woodland scents'.