"The Storm has passed, but the sky is still grey. I set out to walk, scuffing through piles of russet leaves brought down by last night's winds. Trees that only a week ago were dressed in autumn colours, flaunting their beauty, are now stark and bare against the leaden unforgiving sky.
A once mighty giant of a tree has crashed across the path, felled inexplicably by the wind. Cracked and splintered branches are strewn around. The tree still looks stunned and helpless, stranded somehow.
Squirrels busy themselves on the forest floor, searching for the spoils of the storm, looking up expectantly as you pass.
A branch creaks in the stillness, a blackbird scuffles in the dry leaves, a swirl of rooks cry out and return to the bare tree tops.
The day that began seemingly moments ago is already fading. Winter is upon us"
"The dark woods and bare trees are transforming. Slowly, imperceptibly, a soft green cloak is creeping over the landscape. A beautiful net of leaves and buds is bringing the sleeping trees to life.
Birds sing, butterflies and bees venture out into fresh magical landscape. Primroses and wild daffodils appear, then white carpets of wild garlic and beautiful drifts of bluebells.
A song thrush shows off with his accomplished medley of song, daring you to copy, knowing you will fail. His brilliant mastery of notes, ringing through the forest.
Spring has arrived."