Love in the Undergrowth

The Independent was full of it this morning: we should save our verges from the curse of the council mower.

People far too often ignore roadside verges. Like so many things in life, we're too busy trying to get from A to B - and we forget to smell the roses (if we even notice them at all).

Near Manorbier in Pembrokeshire last week, my dad took a wrong turn down a green lane. While he was lamenting the hogweed thwacking the front of his car, I was amazed how the verge formed a living wall, sinking the road almost ten foot below the horizon and creating a beautifully chaotic natural freize.

Hedgerows and verges have so much to offer. In spring and summer, they're nature's flower display, home to a whole host of wildlife, and can provide a tasty nibble too.

So, inspired by hedgerow love, I took the shiny new racing bike along Sustrans' Two Tunnels Greenway out of Bath as far as Midford, then took Midford Lane over the hill to Limpley Stoke.. before joining the tow path on to Bradford-on-Avon.

In fact, because most guys get weirdly excited by maps once they hit 21, here's a route plan which I enjoyed producing a bit too much.

The sidings of the new Sustrans route form their own microclimate; dank cuttings create nooks for tongue-like ferns and creeping things which I didn't know the name of.

On the road to Limpley Stoke, the ubiquitous hogweed stretches its delicate florets into the road, looking for the bonnet of a Ford Mondeo to scrawp.

In the background an attractive weed clambers up the wall in shades of rust, mauve, and pink.

Forget-me-nots, looking like a kitch 1950s apron, appear from time to time in blue polka.

 Red campion is in search of the sun from beneath the shade of a tree...

 ... and crowded out by nettles.

 The jagged-edged male nettle...

 ... is checking out his fair-flowered lady-love.

And the smell of wild garlic, like little white explosions in a French restaurant, is inescapable...

The woodland verge is carpeted with it. I don't feel too guilty about taking a few leaves, to chop finely and mix with mayo on new potatoes (tonight), or make into pesto (tomorrow).

Pin-pricks of colour in the dappled shade.

And unidentified white flowers.

And suddenly, an alien invasion, stalking out of the grass, with twenty-seven purple eyes per head. The buttercup alone holds out.

Comfrey, (thankfully) swarming with bees.

And it's good to see that sometimes verges can work in harmony with gardens. The hogweed, ferns, and forget-me-nots meet trained roses and garden centre shrubs...

... so why this?

PS: most of these photos were taken within the space of a few hundred metres and the wildflowers were completely natural. If you're worried about your council cutting verges, drop them a line or copy this link to them on Twitter. It's what they're there for.