How I fell in love with the scent, shade and stories of elder trees on a summer walk
Eleanor Ashford
There's a small lane winding its way through our beloved Kingswood Green, graced on either side by a charming jumble of wild hedgerows.
On a balmy afternoon in June, I found myself strolling down this path, my thoughts as leisurely as my steps. It was one of those perfect English days where the sun drapes the countryside in a gentle golden glow, and a soft breeze teases the leaves into a gentle rustle. As I ventured further along this sylvan track, I was enveloped by the most captivating fragrance, a sweet, heady scent that seemed to stop time itself. And there it was, the elder tree, in all its understated glory, swathed in frothy umbels of creamy blossoms.
The elder tree, or Sambucus nigra, is a quiet hero of British hedgerows, its presence often overlooked in favour of more flamboyant species.
Yet there is something undeniably enchanting about this tree. Perhaps it's the way the blossoms seem to hover amidst the green, like lacework spun by fairies. Or maybe it's the aroma, an intoxicating blend of florals and fruit that conjures lazy summer picnics and carefree afternoons. As I stood beneath the boughs of one, I could not help but inhale deeply, allowing the scent to transport me to a place of serenity and wonder.
It's strange how certain scents can unlock the floodgates of memory.
Standing there, enveloped in the elder's perfume, I was whisked back to my childhood summers, spent exploring my grandmother's garden. She was an indefatigable gardener, her fingers perpetually stained by the earth and her heart forever attuned to its rhythms. Her garden was a tapestry of plants, each with a tale to tell, but it was the elder tree on the boundary that held my youthful curiosity. I recall her teaching me how to make elderflower cordial, its sweet tartness a revelation to my young palate. As we harvested the blooms together, she regaled me with tales of its age-old uses, from medicinal brews to culinary delights.
The elder tree is steeped in folklore, its reputation swaying between sacred and sinister through the ages.
In bygone days, it was revered as a tree of protection, warding off evil spirits and providing sanctuary to those seeking its shelter. Yet, there are whispers of planting elder at your peril, lest you invite misfortune. Such is the duality of the elder's character, adding to its allure. These stories, passed down through generations, are threads in the tapestry of our cultural heritage. In appreciating them, we connect with the landscape and the human stories interwoven with it.
As I continued my walk beneath the elder's boughs, I found solace in its dappled shade, an oasis of coolness amidst the warmth of the day.
There's a quiet magic in the way light filters through the leaves, casting playful patterns upon the ground and inviting idle contemplation. The subtle dance of light and shadow is nature's art form, beckoning us to pause, to reflect, and to marvel at the intricacies of the world around us.
It's easy, in the hustle and bustle of modern life, to overlook these simple pleasures.
We rush about, our senses dulled by screens and schedules, missing the quiet splendours of the natural world. Yet, when we slow down, when we take the time to observe and appreciate, we find ourselves enriched. The elder tree, with its beauty and its stories, serves as a gentle reminder of this truth.
In gardening, as in life, patience is a virtue.
The elder teaches us this in its growth and in its giving. It offers a bounty of gifts if we choose to embrace them. The blossoms, fragrant and delicate, are the harbingers of summer, and from them, we craft drinks both nostalgic and refreshing. The berries, when they darken to a rich purplish-black, can be transformed into jams and jellies, their tartness a delight against the sweet of a scone. Even the leaves and bark carry secrets, though one must be cautious, for they hold compounds best left to the realm of herbalists.
As my walk drew to a close, I found myself filled with a newfound affection for this humble tree.
It is, in many ways, emblematic of the world we gardeners cherish, a world that values the cyclical nature of life, the dance of the seasons, and the stories each plant can tell. Embracing these elements in our gardening practices not only deepens our connection to nature but also enriches our sense of self and community.
The elder tree taught me much that summer's afternoon.
It's a lesson in mindfulness, in being present and in allowing ourselves to fall in love with the world anew, one bloom at a time. For in this love, we find the strength to nurture and protect, to honour the past while tending to the future, ensuring that these tales and this beauty remain for those who come after us.
So, as you wander your own garden, or perhaps find yourself ambling down a country lane, I invite you to pause.
Breathe deeply and allow yourself to be transported by the scent of elderflowers, to bask in their shade and ponder their stories. The rewards are richer than you might imagine, a quiet symphony of senses, memories, and marvels, waiting for you to explore.
On a balmy afternoon in June, I found myself strolling down this path, my thoughts as leisurely as my steps. It was one of those perfect English days where the sun drapes the countryside in a gentle golden glow, and a soft breeze teases the leaves into a gentle rustle. As I ventured further along this sylvan track, I was enveloped by the most captivating fragrance, a sweet, heady scent that seemed to stop time itself. And there it was, the elder tree, in all its understated glory, swathed in frothy umbels of creamy blossoms.
The elder tree, or Sambucus nigra, is a quiet hero of British hedgerows, its presence often overlooked in favour of more flamboyant species.
Yet there is something undeniably enchanting about this tree. Perhaps it's the way the blossoms seem to hover amidst the green, like lacework spun by fairies. Or maybe it's the aroma, an intoxicating blend of florals and fruit that conjures lazy summer picnics and carefree afternoons. As I stood beneath the boughs of one, I could not help but inhale deeply, allowing the scent to transport me to a place of serenity and wonder.
It's strange how certain scents can unlock the floodgates of memory.
Standing there, enveloped in the elder's perfume, I was whisked back to my childhood summers, spent exploring my grandmother's garden. She was an indefatigable gardener, her fingers perpetually stained by the earth and her heart forever attuned to its rhythms. Her garden was a tapestry of plants, each with a tale to tell, but it was the elder tree on the boundary that held my youthful curiosity. I recall her teaching me how to make elderflower cordial, its sweet tartness a revelation to my young palate. As we harvested the blooms together, she regaled me with tales of its age-old uses, from medicinal brews to culinary delights.
The elder tree is steeped in folklore, its reputation swaying between sacred and sinister through the ages.
In bygone days, it was revered as a tree of protection, warding off evil spirits and providing sanctuary to those seeking its shelter. Yet, there are whispers of planting elder at your peril, lest you invite misfortune. Such is the duality of the elder's character, adding to its allure. These stories, passed down through generations, are threads in the tapestry of our cultural heritage. In appreciating them, we connect with the landscape and the human stories interwoven with it.
As I continued my walk beneath the elder's boughs, I found solace in its dappled shade, an oasis of coolness amidst the warmth of the day.
There's a quiet magic in the way light filters through the leaves, casting playful patterns upon the ground and inviting idle contemplation. The subtle dance of light and shadow is nature's art form, beckoning us to pause, to reflect, and to marvel at the intricacies of the world around us.
It's easy, in the hustle and bustle of modern life, to overlook these simple pleasures.
We rush about, our senses dulled by screens and schedules, missing the quiet splendours of the natural world. Yet, when we slow down, when we take the time to observe and appreciate, we find ourselves enriched. The elder tree, with its beauty and its stories, serves as a gentle reminder of this truth.
In gardening, as in life, patience is a virtue.
The elder teaches us this in its growth and in its giving. It offers a bounty of gifts if we choose to embrace them. The blossoms, fragrant and delicate, are the harbingers of summer, and from them, we craft drinks both nostalgic and refreshing. The berries, when they darken to a rich purplish-black, can be transformed into jams and jellies, their tartness a delight against the sweet of a scone. Even the leaves and bark carry secrets, though one must be cautious, for they hold compounds best left to the realm of herbalists.
As my walk drew to a close, I found myself filled with a newfound affection for this humble tree.
It is, in many ways, emblematic of the world we gardeners cherish, a world that values the cyclical nature of life, the dance of the seasons, and the stories each plant can tell. Embracing these elements in our gardening practices not only deepens our connection to nature but also enriches our sense of self and community.
The elder tree taught me much that summer's afternoon.
It's a lesson in mindfulness, in being present and in allowing ourselves to fall in love with the world anew, one bloom at a time. For in this love, we find the strength to nurture and protect, to honour the past while tending to the future, ensuring that these tales and this beauty remain for those who come after us.
So, as you wander your own garden, or perhaps find yourself ambling down a country lane, I invite you to pause.
Breathe deeply and allow yourself to be transported by the scent of elderflowers, to bask in their shade and ponder their stories. The rewards are richer than you might imagine, a quiet symphony of senses, memories, and marvels, waiting for you to explore.