‘It looks like Mordor’, says D, my son, as he divests himself of coat and boots after a solo winter walk. ‘What’s going on?’ So I look online. One entry tells me that our Large Wood is ‘ classified as ‘ancient semi-natural woodland’, and hugely appreciated by local walkers ’. I know this. Every spring the wood anemones and then the bluebells bring swathes of light and beauty and colour after the long muted winter, and my path often diverges from its well trodden river route to go up the hill and through the forest where I stand and stare and drink in life. Another website reads: ‘We are proud custodians of (the) Large Wood, a place rich in history and natural beauty.’ (It was.) ‘Our commitment to this woodland goes beyond preservation—we aim to enhance its biodiversity and ensure it thrives for future generations. To achieve this, we have developed a woodland management plan….. approved by the Forestry Commission… One of our key goals is to protect the historic charm...
Most days, stories, images and ideas run through my mind. I find myself forming narratives as I walk, or cycle, or simply pause in stillness and imbibe the wonder of the world. I want to learn to capture the words, to riff on the themes I ponder. So now, instead of thinking about writing, I will write. Excuse the errors, the detours, the rookie mistakes. This is Riffing in Writing.