The Path through the Woods

[puddleshark]

The woods in early April. Full of sunlight and birdsong: the pensive silvery songs of robins, the repetitive two-tone squeak of coal-tits, chiffchaffs singing their own name, and nuthatches whistling like football referees. Overhead, the trees still bare except for ivy, but new bright leaves appearing on the hazel and the honeysuckle understorey. In glades and along the paths, wherever the sun spills down, the woodland flowers: primroses, violets, celandines, wood anemones, and even the first few bluebells.












New rosettes of needles on the larch.