An early spring recap from the woods.
Lately, we’ve been finding ourselves increasingly reluctant to post on social media; why diminish precious moments to a futile quest for likes, battling against algorithms in a game that no one knows the rules of? We’re thinking of new ways to share stories and insights from the woods, and as well as monthly newsletters, we’ll be attempting to post here more often too. So, with that in mind, here’s a recap of what we’ve been up to so far this spring.
Spring sees the end of woodland management season. We rush to finish the winters’s work yet indulge in a few slow moments to enjoy the process; felling scots pines with axe and saw, carving cups from cherry and birch, daily wanderings to take stock of which tree’s buds have burst and which flowers have woken up, bestowing light and life upon the woods and hedgerows.
Benji remembers so much from last year; he shouts excitedly each time he spots a new flower for the first time since last spring and wants to know which ones have yet to emerge. Despite the cold, primroses, dog violets, cuckoo flowers, ground ivy, wood anemones are all here, so too are cherry and blackthorn blossoms. A few bluebells poke their long necks above the carpet of green, purple heads bowing down patiently, waiting for the masses to catch up. Soon our world will turn purple.
We forage more than usual, and eat salads of freshly unfurled leaves and flowers. We eat venison from a deer taken from our woods and watch for a change in their behaviour, hoping that a few saplings will escape being browsed and become young trees.
Common lizards, a grass snake and orange tip butterflies emerge on April 4th, followed by snow flurries on April 6th and on April 12th. We struggle to remember which song belongs to which bird; every spring is like starting from scratch. Blackcaps are in the areas of scrub and chiff chaffs say their own names on repeat. The days are longer and we cook outside on calm days when our outdoor wood stove pumps out enough heat to keep us warm on chilly nights if we sit close. Every spring we think that the winter just gone will be our last living in the woods, yet we start splitting and stacking firewood in preparation for the following winter just in case. A stack of ash and pine await the bite of chainsaw and axe.