Wild garlic, two big toenails, green goddess and Paul Weller
Abundance: Tuesday 12 March 2024
It’s not every day you lose both big toenails. Nine years, two months and ten days ago, I did just that.
Walking from my East Devon hometown towards West Dorset, eyes to the sun, sea to the right, is as good a day as there is. The second half is as undulating as it is beautiful, and by ‘undulating’ I mean it’s an absolute bastard1.
Walking steeply downhill can be as tiring as walking up; insteps stretching away from you, knees locking, toes jamming into the front of your boots with all your weight behind them.
As sunset turned to all-but-darkness, my feet felt for a path down the dimpsy final decline into Branscombe, me desperate for a bath and beer, and for the welcome car headlights I saw turning into the car park below.
It wasn’t until two days later that both toenails turned purple, and that I fully appreciated the madness of unworn-in boots, undeployed nail scissors and steep declines jamming those nails back into their toes. A fortnight later, painlessly, those toenails let go of their owner.
It is that last dark decline that is today’s bright incline, retracing my steps towards a glorious view and a patch of woodland just as the slope crests.