Ilston Woods in springtime is a truly magical place. A clumsy scramble over the stile at the end of The Gower Inn car park, and you are instantly transported into another world where even fairies and goblins seem like a possibility.

A profusion of wild flowers spread themselves before you like a magnificent Wilton carpet, perfectly fitted around tree trunks, paths and riverbanks. Bluebells and primroses, once there for the gathering, are now for viewing only. Maybe I contributed to the law that prohibits their picking. I remember leaving the woods with arms brim full of purple, pink, and pale yellow prizes. The site of the first church in Wales can be easily missed, if you don't know where to look. It nestles between the woods, the stream and the picnic area. I couldn't hazard a guess at how many times I have eaten soggy cheese and tomato sandwiches at this spot: or how many cups of tea my family have poured from tartan vacuum flasks. We've even been known to crack the odd bottle of bubbly here, on special occasions.

Walk on, and you come across seven little bridges, or are there only six? My memory isn't what it was: put it down to age! The woods become denser now, as the beautiful carpet gives way to bare soil, which cannot sustain any flora. The overhead umbrella is too well designed to allow sunlight to penetrate here. It's cool and shady, walking up the gentle hill underneath its canopy. Suddenly you see it - Ilston church: isolated and ancient. Its graveyard tells the story of a past era. The church is locked now, but in times gone by we could wander inside. We would sit quietly in the straight-backed pews, and say a prayer at its tiny altar, before leaving to retrace our steps.

As I wander towards the car park, I feel, as I always do, that I don't want to leave yet. Maybe I'll just pick a few of those bluebells. I know it's illegal these days, but I'm sure the fairies and elves won't mind!

Pam Bollom