Game over, man.

 

Game over, man. The forest stands are all but closed down, it's really only the oaks who're still holding on to the last of their leaves. It's been a busy year in the forest, that said, it's always a busy year, that wheel keeps on turning. Now with the work done it's time for a well earned rest, not from us pesky humans though. Footfall in the forest has been heavy ever since lock-down, you've never seen the parking spots so full. Although you can still have the forest to yourself by staying well off the tracks, keeping it cross country stylee. Beech Bed's one of those enclosures that you rarely see folk, in fact I can't remember ever seeing a soul here. We took a while here to breath in the forest. Old Sol's tiring, his strength's waning, nonetheless his light casts long shadows through the beech stands, in whose hollows and damp places light mists persist and the silence is deafening, only broken by the occasional chatter of birds high in the naked canopy. You could lose yourself in the tranquillity of the woods today.