Fletchers Thorns (1829) is bathed in rich light; Autumn may hold dominion over the night, but still, with the Sun shining and the blue sky almost clear of cloud, Summer clings convincingly to the day. The plantations Oaks are tall and straight, the ground covered in waist to shoulder high Ferns, a pleasure to wander through. Fletchers Water, formally Black Water, has always been a favourite stretch of stream, running through the edge of Fletchers Thorns, I thought it timesless; imagine my shock and dismay finding the quest for the restoration of bog woodland has been at work returning water courses to their previous channels, thus encouraging seasonal flooding encouraging the return of vital and rare habitats, their flora and fauna. The once broad stream has been replaced by a thin snaking brook, with numourus tightly grouped meanders. Change is always such a pisser!