Autumn arrived suddenly this year. After months of drought and sunshine, we have welcome rain. Bright autumn leaves, red and gold, are falling early from some of the trees; they’ve done their job, generating incredible rates of growth, especially in those parts of the wood which were devastated by Storm Darragh last December.

Destruction creates opportunity. Joy can grow from sadness. This Easter, the wood still felt sad in places but I was more aware of joy: the joyful singing of at least ten different species of birds, from the high piping of goldcrests to the liquid melody of a blackcap, the chirring of wrens and the shriek… Read more »

The wood is still, silent, devastated. I walk a little way, climbing over horizontal tree trunks, past the shelter, heading into the chaos. Now there is no way forwards, the paths are blocked in every direction and there are so many fallen trees. I can’t get around them… Donate to the Storm Darragh clean up… Read more »

The Autumn Equinox, which marks the official beginning of autumn, falls on 22nd September, just as I’m finishing this newsletter; but as far as Boduan Sanctuary Wood is concerned, the seasons started to change in August. The paths were already gilded with fallen birch leaves seven weeks ago.

This newsletter has been a long time coming – sorry! We’ve been reorganising the office; it has moved to Bangor, along with the computer on which I used to create newsletters. My new system is up and running now and I’m writing this in my living room in Pwllheli.

The Vernal Equinox has arrived and as I write, the lengths of day and night are equal. Tomorrow the day will be longer than the night and the wood is waking up fast. It may feel chilly but the sun brings hope and joy. Listen to the birds! Their songs grow longer and more varied… Read more »

On bright December days, the wood is a delightful place to spend time. When the trees are bare, the sun illuminates the vibrant colours of ferns, mosses and fallen leaves. We notice the contrast of pale lichens and bright spots of fungi on fallen twigs against the dark damp ground.

It’s been years since I walked through the wood at night. On Bonfire Night it was silent apart from a burst of harsh bird-sound, you couldn’t call it song. Ravens, perhaps? We’ve seen them flying in the day-time. Leafless trees stood still, tall black skeletons under a starry sky; it seemed as though the only… Read more »

Today was golden, beautiful.  The wood was the best place to be. I’m so glad it’s been raining! The fungi had all but disappeared after the recent hot weather and I was worried that there would be nothing to find next Sunday, when Charles Aron is coming to the wood to teach us about them.