Grove

There are a couple of places scattered about my favoured roams that we'll regularly visit and hang out a while. One is a spot in Burley Old, where I'll sit amongst the mossy buttressed roots of a veteran Beech, taking it all in, connecting, whilst Geoff does his thing. This cycle I've paid particular attention to the roof of my favoured grove, noticing the faint changes which precede the more profound transformations. The whole hue of the woodland has subtly changed, as has the nature of the light, everything has lost its lustre. It's most noticeable in the canopy, which although still dense and full, is beginning to look tired, now with the odd flush of gold hinting at what's to come. The sound and smell of the stands is changing too, the woodland is audibly quieter, the bird song seems to have less urgency and the trees are holding their breath in anticipation. Sound is also beginning to carry again, so you can hear further out, and still it's quiet. Each season has an identifying smell, and the forest is starting to smell autumnal, all we need now is some rain and we'll be there.  It's a lovely season autumn, so many facets to enjoy. There's really something to be said for getting to know the groves you frequent more intimately.