Yellow leaves, remaining on the lime tree, brighten this dull November morning, and appear almost luminous against lichens on the leafless eucryphia. Frost has yet to blemish the early white camellia, and squirrels ignore the strawberry-like fruit of dogwoods in favour of abundant berries and nuts. Just one of the heavily laden hollies has been stripped of berries, probably eaten by a passing gang of wandering fieldfares. Blue flowers clothe aromatic rosemary and the ivy-woven undergrowth shelters violet plants – food for fritillary caterpillars.
Before 8am, the sound of a quad bike (with headlight gleaming through the mist) sounds from opposite as the south Devon beef cattle are escorted into a fresh enclosure of greened-up grass, still growing in the mild weather. Outside this gardened enclave, the landmark clump of beech has been blown bare of its leaves and mast, and the Dupath farm’s Aberdeen Angus bullocks graze in a nearby pasture.
Down the hill, in the overgrown Radland tributary, yellowing leaves of sprawling hazel accumulate on shiny hart’s-tongue ferns and the winter green of male ferns. Polypodies and glossy pennywort thrive on mossy branches of the oldest oaks, and will become more noticeable as the season advances towards winter. For now, the iron age enclosure overlooking this little valley is edged in russet‑leafed oaks, like those below St Dominic village where they contrast with the greyness of bare and dying ash.
Downstream, near Cotehele’s historic corn mill and the collapsed weir, tall beech, oak and chestnut rise above a carpet of orange and gold, gradually disintegrating into leaf mould. High tide temporarily dams the racing millstream that will carry the masses of leaves and eroded earth – washed down the steep lanes by yet more heavy rain – towards the tidal river.
Before the use of artificial manures, rotting leaves were a source of organic fertiliser, supplementing dock dung (street sweepings from Plymouth and Devonport), and limestone, shipped upstream to be burned in riverside kilns. Accumulated leaves, the “point stuff”, were shovelled off the mud banks at low tide, loaded into boats and floated towards quays, then carted away for spreading on the valley’s intensively cultivated market gardens.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
