While the rest of the British countryside surrenders to the fiery palette of autumn, one secluded Somerset gorge is staging a quiet, green rebellion. In the Wadbury Valley near Frome, the typical yellows, golds, and browns of the season are conspicuously absent, replaced by a stunning and persistent verdancy.
A Verdant Stronghold Defies the Season
This isn't just a simple case of lingering summer foliage. Within the deep cleft of the valley, a specific set of environmental conditions has created a botanical fortress. The damp air lingers, and the wind is a stranger here, creating a microclimate where moisture-loving plants don't just survive; they thrive and conquer.
Outside this hidden world, trees are stripping themselves bare. But inside the gorge, the gorgeous greens have come to the fore in a spectacular display of nature's resilience.
The Lush Inhabitants of a Hidden World
The victory is led by three main groups of plants. Ivy is present, of course, with its thick leaves climbing trees and carpeting overhanging banks. Yet, in this lush environment, it is almost overshadowed by the visual impact of its neighbours.
All down the deep cleft above a waterfall, hart's-tongue ferns grow in profusion. Their leaves boast a glossy, dark sheen, as if perpetually bathed in a gentle rain. Elsewhere, various shield and buckler ferns, their shuttlecock shapes unidentifiable to the casual observer, are scattered across the valley floor. Even the stone walls of a long-abandoned ironworks are not spared, with plucky spleenwort ferns shooting from their mortared cracks.
The Unstoppable Reign of Moss
However, the most abundant green is a softer, turf-like variety. In the world beyond the gully, moss is restricted to north-facing trunks, denied a hold by the drying sun. Here, the rules of the compass are rewritten; north, south, east, and west are all the same in this damp, windless haven.
The moss acts as a lagging for alder trees, a leg warmer for oaks, and a tubular bandage for ailing ash. Its spongy padding on tree trunks is soft to the touch, compressing under gentle pressure. It creeps up into the forks of trees, and from its surface, yet more ferns burst forth in a celebration of green on green.
This conquest by stealth and spore is absolute. On smaller streamside trees, moss clothes every bough, branch, and twig. Some strands have worked loose, trailing out like lime tinsel. Nothing is left uncovered. In the heart of Wadbury Valley, the green has well and truly conquered all.
