Cracked soil from weeks without rain, leaves curdled prematurely, tall grass when May had only begun, all followed by weeks of dampness, sodden ground and

When frost halts nature for a tight embrace, the landscape lays edged into a mirror of icy water and frozen tears, reflecting a cold, cobalt sky, when silver

Between Cold Moon and Wolf Moon, we orbit the farthest from the sun. Bitter cold grasps at twig and bone, snow is driven across fells

Calls across water, cracking glacial air as frost-gripped shed leaf unfurls. Tracks on soil, leading into dusted woods where brambles form archways into winter. Eyes

As chestnuts fall onto first shed leaves, splitting their shells, a year’s worth of fruition is offered to the ones flitting by. Food for sustenance

Wings flit over meadows, feathers blend with flowers under morning light. Calls piercing the woods, chicks ask their due of parents and life, to be

As the lowering sunshine slants across branches of mossy stem and porcelain leaf, tall grass, gold-spun, all wave in the breeze under wagtail’s whirring wings.

Painted, crafted and formed by the ever turning dials of our universe, our woods are celebrating youth. Darkness dissolves, and like a slow lapping of silver waves,

One morning a sound rolls through Bowland skies as if an orchestra of flute-playing sprites are sailing over our hills. Curlews have returned. Soon they’re

Setting out in darkness with shards of glassy snow crunching below my boots, shed from the starry heavens, daylight soon seeps in sweet rose across