It’s been so dry in the wood this summer, the ground is like concrete under the rich dark topsoil. I’ve never seen the stream so low. But at least we have a stream and it is still running, so we have water. And there must be water in the ground, because the treees, ferns and… Read more »

March was a golden month. Golden sunshine – record breaking, according to the Met Office – golden daffodils, celandine, dandelions, primroses – well, more lemon than gold but surely you’ll allow a bit of poetic licence?

Welcome to the first Newsletter of 2022! January is almost over and I’m so happy to see signs of Spring at last! It builds up gradually from here: the fresh young leaves on honeysuckle will be joined by baby leaves on hawthorn and rose, then willow and cherry, and on it will go, the wood… Read more »

What a difference a week makes! I started writing this newletter in the last week of November, when the long gentle autumn felt endless. Then came Storm Arwen and the onset of winter.

It seems appropriate that I should devote this newsletter to ghoulies and ghosties. Hallowe’en is next Sunday and the mosses are dripping in anticipation. Everything is damp. Yellow slime mould is running riot. Under the brambles, the red and white Amanitas are out in force, capturing the imagination.

It’s beautiful!  Clouds of butterflies dancing in the sunshine. On warm September days, the wood smells delicious. I struggle to describe the rich and complex aroma in a way that would be meaningful to those who are unable to visit; it’s a mixture of fruit and fungi, trees and damp earth; it reminds me of… Read more »

Frogs are jumping and the brambles are high. The wood is totally lush: the trees in full sail, the ferns at their most magnificent. In sunny spots, flowers are blooming as never before and the air is scented with honey suckle.

It’s late spring and spirits are rising with the temperature. We are being freed from lockdown and the earth is producing fresh life. Day after day dawns bright the air sweet with birdsong; and while the wind can still feel chilly, there is real warmth in the sunshine.…

I was fortunate to be in the wood on St Davids Day. It was glorious. The daffodils have just come into bloom, sunshine filtering through their bright spring bonnets. The wild daffs in the Baby Grove are doing particularly well and spreading freely…

It was a letter from one of my readers that induced me to write this newsletter today. Maybe other people share her misconception. If so, there’s an urgent need to correct it. So here it is: We can and do bury people who have died of Covid…