‘A symphony of ancient trees’
I’m at a music festival. I’m lying on the ground and letting the sound wash over me.
Two trees
Here’s a poem for you. Only I haven’t written it yet.
Hunting Country
When I was ten, a man cut off a fox’s tail and used it smear blood on my face. I had been ‘blooded’: a hunting rite of passage.
Modern nature, Dungeness
Prospero in a djellaba,
scattering seeds
on the flint shore
of England's only desert.
Buckthorn, bugloss, poppy, sedum.
Pond life
Despite last autumn’s constant rain, this is a water-deprived area.
A hare in the field
‘Every field should have a hare’ - J Lewis Stempel
Enchanted wood
Some landscapes are woven with magic.
A Cotswolds vantage
Old Walterbush Farm lies at the highest point of my walk. At 750 feet above sea level it’s where the rolling waves of the Cotswold landscape finally crest before flowing out eastwards
Still winter
The view from my window is an English view. Green, even in mid-winter, as the morning frost fades.