The low winter sun burst through the ancient stands of Mark Ash this morning, flooding the woodland in a wonderful light. Lovely. The woodland's quiet, though you'd be mistaken to think there's nothing going on, look and you see ponies grazing, frenetic squirrels, small birds flitting about drooped bracken, large birs looking on from high perches, a cautiously deer drinks from a water born rivulet, aware that the open forest left it exposed, it disappears quickly as we approach. There's plenty going on it the winter forest, it's just happening, for the most part, in understated ways.
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