Entering Knowle Hill wood was entering a magical wonderland of sound and colour, nature run wild and free. Open stands of old Oak, Ash, Birch and neglected Hazel coppice reach up to the crest of Knowle Hill, shafts of sunlight break the thickening canopy. Thick swathes of lush green with spikes of white flower clusters carpet the woodland floor, Ramsons, wild garlic, in such abundance, they are all you can see in all directions. Birds fill the crowns with busy song, a woodpecker drills, a distant Cuckoo sounds off and a pheasant alerts the wood of our presence, whilst other woodland critters get on with whatever they're getting on with, squirrels scuttle at speed, some deer graze near their woodland beds and a fox disappears into the green. Taken by the scene, time passes and you realize your jaw hangs like the proverbial 'slack jaw yokel'. I am blessed to know such places.
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