English woods have always been magical places for me and are something I miss enormously in Australia. I grew up in Robin Hood country, North Nottinghamshire, and we had easy access to lots of forested areas, both natural and cultivated. While it was more organised than in Robin’s time it was certainly still possible to lose yourself and not see another person, or cross your own path, for a few hours.
As a kid we had many Sunday afternoon’s playing hide & seek in parts of Sherwood Forest: Mum & Dad pretending they’d gone home without us and our mad family dog ‘hunting’ us, bouncing up and down in the bracken. When I was older my own dogs were an excuse for regular long walks, escaping from real life for hours and hours, both there and in Delamere Forest when I moved to Cheshire. When you’re alone and it’s quiet you can feel that the trees have been there for hundreds of years, nothing has changed much amongst them.
The photo I’ve chosen to tackle next was rediscovered in some old photos this afternoon. It was taken in 2005 on a walk with my Dad through a small copse somewhere near Cuckney, I think. It must have been springtime as all the leaves are unrealistically green. It’s hard to tell whether I’ll be able to do justice to the original, I haven’t tried many landscapes and it’s quite complex, but I’m looking forward to trying.