I went to the wood on Sunday for a few days, the weather forecast looked fair and I needed to escape for a while. Sunday morning I backpacked 5 days supplies into the wood and cached them. Coming out I decided to detour through a seperate piece of woodland where there are footpaths, although rarely used. In a clearing it was obvious that someone had camped there, not destructive or litter signs but just a disturbed area, and almost certainly a family..At the edge of the clearing I found this at a tree root..
A fairy door complete with tiny sprays of plastic flowers.. I really hope that the little one(s) who placed it there were caught up in the magic of the woods and able to escape from the push button world for a while into their own fairyland.
The first 4 days in the wood were almost summery with warm sunshine and a Southern breeze, although observation of all the signs tells that Autumn is far advanced. The Ferns are dying back showing the Deer trails clearly and the woodland floor is home to many different types of Fungi.
From the delicate to the deadly..
The Stinkhorn that was almost hidden under it's swarming flies
And many others, from the pretty to the useful..
A few more for fungi fanciers..
So many varieties of trees too, reading the woodland floor is easy at this season..
On the practical side, the big kettle salvaged from the boatyard skip onto which I bolted a new handle, courtesy of the local D.I.Y shop strip metal counter.. saves me continually filling my little coffee pot. I guess it's due for a scrape and overhaul anyway..
What's in the mess tin?..dunno! some kind of pasta.. I just open the packet and chuck it in..
The big old Beech trees are special to me, Queen of the forest they say. Every evening I watched the sunset through her branches as it has for two or three Centuries..
A close look shows that long ago someone paid her a visit...1924 I make it..
Thursday night was truely Thors-day night as the wind howled through the wood from just after sunset. Great storms of leaves flew in the air and the sounds of the wood ran far into the night. There is a slender Hornbeam which knocks on an Ash, which maybe because it grows in the hollow of the stream sounds like a drum. As the gusts came the drum sounded like the slave master's drum beat in a war galley, fading as the wind died only to start with the next gust. In the early hours a tearing crash came, it always sounds so close as I've experienced before, but the next morning I took this photo..Missed! 50-60 yards away on the other side of the stream although it sounded closer in the dark!!
Early start today..back to the world. Smoke in the woods with the last fire..
And just before I put the camera into my Bergen, hide and seek with an early Deer.
A long tab out through the wood, up the lane and a rest stop in the little copse up near the farm where I leave my transport. I squatted against a stump just high enough to take the Bergens weight and to my utter amazement saw this at the base of a tree..Look closely, the green rush leaf is woven through sticks, the remains of the Pidgeon's egg had flower petals in and behind the tiny woven door someone had laid faded withered Bluebell heads to make a bed.
I'd love to know who, for someone, not a child either I would guess, had been touched by the woodland magic too.