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Six Ashdown Forest Poems by Siân Thomas
From Crowborough to gorse is a few minutes’ journey to the past,
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Iain Sinclair on The Unofficial Countryside
The Unofficial Countryside is a proper reckoning, the Doomsday Book of a topography too fascinating to be left alone.
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The Cottage in the Weald: Walter Murray and Copsford by Tom Wareham
For nine months he lived there alone, gradually becoming more and more absorbed into nature and the landscape.
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Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall on the Fat of the Land
For all these reasons, John Seymour’s is a voice that still needs to be heard, and a voice that can change lives, including perhaps yours.
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Shelter from the storm – remembering W. S. Merwin by Michael Malay
In this time of uncertain weather and relentless loss, to plant trees can be a radical act.
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Turtle Dove by Chris Baker
We sang Turtle Dove inside Copsale Hall, a corrugated iron-beauty surrounded by trees, erected the same year Williams collected the song.
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White Plastic Forks by Polly Butcher
When I was younger, I remember waking to hear birdsong outside my window.
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Stardust by Alex Woodcock
The slab was the first thing in the van. A piece of Irish limestone about three feet by one foot by three inches thick. Probably the heaviest single thing I owned: I…
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A rewilding diary by Emily Warner
Glen Affric in the throes of summer was a very different landscape to its April incarnation. Shades of orange and brown had been replaced by a spectrum of greens.
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Robert Macfarlane on The South Country
the best way to think of The South Country, in fact, is as a dream-map – by which I mean an act of imaginative cartography, a chart of longing and loss projected onto actual terrain.
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Encountering Beauty by Amy Brady
I’d imagined the flock as a cloud of wings, their calls sounding like laughter.
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Ash Tree by Chris Poundwhite
Myth in its fibres, wood made word; the fissured bark
of Yggdrasil, world-tree, tree of Ask –
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