Origins: Old English Brom (Broom, Brushwood) and Dun (Hill)
"Dweller near the Brushwood Hill"
Brandon Country Park conjures up images of bikers and children, grandparents and parents running around or strolling in the comfort of spring, summer, autumn and winter. But there is much more to this fantastic landscape than we give it credit for. The area is dappled by hidden gems like Pingos. These pools of water were created within the ice age, no doubt our ancestors used these for a life line of water and trapping. What else does your eye miss in this heart beating landscape? Well there is the flint; if you’re from around the area you will know that Brandon is famous for its flint. From prehistoric times the area was mined and used to make weapons, tools and jewellery.
But what I love most about Brandon is the explosion of senses as you walk, drive or cycle. As you enter, you look up at the trees that line the road. You find yourself showered in a golden red glow as the leaves of the beech trees that dance and ripple and crown your head. Or, could it be the familiar warm cosy Iceni setting of the information and tea room building? Maybe it’s’ the hidden garden. Or the grand house with its sweeping garden and pond that jumps with life.
No I see beyond that. What I see is the trees of pine, giant redwood and coast trees. I see all the green, the flitting of dragon flies and other flying insects displaying their majestic aerial displays, right down to the scurrying squirrel bounding across your path and interrupting your thoughts. Through the swaying grass of green and yellow, you can catch glimpses of leaping deer. Big bold scrubs of bracken and fern hide chuckling pheasants and scampering mice.
When the park settles and dusk is near the sun sets giving you the most wonderful back drop. The owls talk and when it’s quite, you can hear the grass spring back from the trodden steps of the explorers of earlier. The mist hangs and hugs the ground as the stars blanket the silhouetted jagged trees. The air creeps and the forest sleeps as we leave our footsteps behind.
Waiting for a new dawn for another day...