creativity | absolutelynotnormal

March Madness

1 04 2026

“March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine.”

– LM Montgomery

The gleam of chill sunshine on the dew-drenched field gives a surreal silvery glow.

A single crow stands sentry in the tree at the entrance to school.

I emerge from school into a peaceful pastel twilight of pink, blue and orange; birds chirp in muted tones from the trees, and even the sound of traffic feels hazy and distant.

Fat white buds are bursting into delicate white blossoms along the reaching fingers of blackthorn.

Fields along the roads edge have been ploughed into rich chocolate brown, velvety perfection.

Lexi giggles, “Miss, your voice is really cute. “

I currently have a sore throat and sound like a chipmunk … I’m not sure I’m feeling particularly cute!

Above the distant tractor, a cloud of white gulls wheel and dance; swirling down to the ground and then taking flight again.

Stately silvery-brown old beeches are wearing fuzzy, mossy slippers in bright green.

In the morning quiet, in that calm before the students arrive, I’m sure I hear a piercing whistle … the oystercatchers are back!

A woman in a padded coat walks her small, grey, curly-haired dog; her coat matches the colour of the ornamental cherry blossom above her.

Tiny diamonds sparkle on the velvet petals of a magnolia flower.

At the base of a fallen tree, a wolf struggles to stand from its mossy bed, gnarled wooden limbs enmeshed in roots and branches 🔽.

A heron flaps heavily overhead with a raucous screech.

Nestled in the flat, grey sky, a tiny patch of rainbow shimmers and glimmers.

Fat ivy stems, woven into intricate Celtic knots, crawl up the tree trunks along the path.

The pavement is littered with ash keys, as if some unknown entity has been rummaging through a drawer to find the correct one before trying to open an unexpectedly locked door.

It’s amazing how judgemental a pheasant can look when it feels that you are disturbing it.

In my seed trays, twenty seven tiny green sprouts have appeared … If they all make it to maturity, it’s going to be a very tomatoey summer!

Wind howls hungrily at the windows, battering and buffeting the glass to find a way in.

Along the branches of the pine trees, nestled amongst the needles, the ladybirds have come out to play.

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Tags: adventure, appreciation, change, changes, connections, creativity, details, experience, exploring, gratitude, imagination, knowledge, learning, life, little things, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, positives, positivity, rambling, ramblings, random, seasons, spring, stories, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, walking
Categories : appreciation, change, connections, details, gratitude, memories, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, positivity, school, seasons, spring, stories

Finding February’s secrets

3 03 2026

“Go to the winter woods: listen there, look, watch, and ‘the dead months’ will give you a subtler secret than any you have yet found in the forest.”

– William Sharp, ‘Where the Forest Murmurs’

On the screen, chilly blue fingers of shadow point the way down snowy slopes under azure skies; outside, the fingers are damp, grey digits, sliding under collars, pinching fingers, and smearing moisture across cheeks.

Black beans bubble in the crockpot, their steam redolent of spices from warmer climes: cumin, coriander and chilli … almost as good as foreign travel.

As the wind rises, the leylandii shakes out its branches; a flamenco dancer settling her ruffles as she gets ready to dazzle a crowd.

Despite the Merlin app telling me that their presence is ‘unlikely in Norfolk’, four cranes trumpet loudly across a wet field. It sounds like elephants roaming the county.

A hunched dark shape perched on one of the thinner branches of a tree turns out, on closer inspection, to be a buzzard, and not a vulture or a gargoyle.

In the flowerbed on my way to work, under the deep shadowy edge of an evergreen hedge, a single purple muscari has appeared overnight.

The quick, flittering movements outside the kitchen window resolve themselves into two robins, busily feeding in the winter flowerbeds.

Packets of mock standardisation material have arrived on my desk; February is the start of an extended exam season that begins with Year 11 mocks, continues with Year 10 mocks and culminates in the GCSEs.

Wish me luck …

Like small children playing hide and seek, arms and legs sticking out all over the place, two trees peer over the top of the privet hedge, their blossoms pale and messy in the grey morning light.

“My cat fell downstairs!” announces Erin; an attempt to distract me from the fact that she has managed to leave her glasses at home again and can’t actually see.

It almost works … why would her cat not have the balance its species is known for?

A tiny sunshine star is buried in the grass by my car.

The lonely ‘kee’ of a buzzard echoes through the sky as I hang my washing out; the world feels like it’s waking up again.

Gazing out of the window while the photocopier does its thing, I notice that the untidy gaggle of seagulls on the field bears more than a passing resemblance to the students at lunchtime.

Scarlet elfcups scattered across the woodland floor fool me into the belief that someone has discarded small pieces of plastic. Reality is so much better than my fear.

Freya comes to show off the creative writing book she’s decorated following our inaugural Writers’ Group session on Tuesday. She shyly shows me the beautiful poem she worked on at home.

Buds are appearing on the fruit trees; it won’t be long until they burst into flower and leaf.

I tuck seeds into their beds of compost, dreaming of long summer days, a glut of Cosse de Violette beans and tomatoes, and the things I can cook with them.

Crabapple blossom has appeared along the hedgerows; delicately crumpled scraps of blush pink, offering hope for the coming year.

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Tags: adventure, anticipation, appreciation, attitude, bird, blossom, botany, change, changes, children, classroom, colour, connections, creativity, details, experience, exploring, flowers, hedgerow, hope, life, little things, moments, musings, nature, Norfolk, observation, positives, positivity, rambling, ramblings, random, Scarlet-Elfcups, seasons, spring, stories, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, walking
Categories : appreciation, birds, blossom, celandine, change, colour, connections, details, dreaming, flowers, gratitude, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, positivity, school, seasons, spring, stories, students, walking

Creatures in the moss

1 03 2026

“The rolling stone rolls echoing from rock to rock; but the rolling stone is dead. The moss is silent because the moss is alive.”

– G.K. Chesterton, ‘Heretics’

I have a bit of a confession; I rather like fence posts. I recognise this piece of information probably makes me a bit weird, but it is, nevertheless, the truth. We have some great fences round here … gnarled, weatherworn, and deeply grooved. I mean, just look at that texture!

Sometimes it’s the post itself, but most of the time, it’s what’s growing on top that really makes my day. Atop these characterful posts, there are tiny little worlds just waiting to be explored. Lumps and bumps of vibrant green. Velvety cushions strewn across hardwood floors. There are red tipped lichenous spikes, an orchestra of grey-green trumpets and many slender, fragile columns holding aloft the foundations of the next generation.

On the day I took these photos, everything was sprinkled with a glitter of diamond bright droplets. Not from rain, but from mist. Or low-hanging cloud. Or mizzle. Or whatever name we were using for it that day. Somehow, it made the moss look alive. I mean, I know it is alive, but it started to seem sentient. Tentacles reached out from behind tuffets of green, each one topped with an eye and bejewelled along its length. Even the velvety cushions seemed to be small furry creatures, hunkered down against the rain.

As a kid, I read a book called ‘The Forest of Bowland Light Railway’, in which my favourite characters were called cowzies (Looking back, they form a very tiny part of the book, but they were the bit that stuck with me!). Small bundles of fluff, they lived deep in the forest alongside the gnomes, the leprechauns, and the wild animals;

A cowzie is about as high as a rabbit sitting up on its hind legs. It has no arms and no legs to speak of, and its eyes though small, are hidden under long hair like a toy terrier, the kind old ladies and old maids loaves to carry about and which are always yapping.

The cowzies’ teeth, though hidden in their long hair, were as sharp as needles and about the sane length.

– BB, ‘The Forest of Boland Light Railway’

To me, tiny lumps of moss always remind me of cowzies; there’s no telling what teeth, eyes and features might hide under their fluffy exterior; they’re incredibly resilient, surviving hot dry summers, soaking wet autumns and freezing winters; they huddle together for warmth, and look incredibly cute and whimsical throughout all of it.

*I mean, this one basically has whiskers to sense the world around it.*

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Tags: adventure, anthropomorphism, appreciation, attitude, bryophyta, connections, cowzies, creativity, details, experience, exploring, fiction, goblins, imagination, learning, life, little things, moments, moss, musings, nature, Norfolk, observation, rambling, ramblings, random, seasons, stories, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, walking
Categories : appreciation, bryophyta, connections, creativity, details, fiction, goblins, imagination, literature, memories, moments, moss, nature, Norfolk, observation, positivity, seasons, spring, stories, walking

January days

31 01 2026

“She left the hut and bright log fire at noon
And walked outside on crisp white winter snow
To find the iced slopes shadowed like the moon,
The wild wood desolate and bare below;
The red trees wet, adrift with icy flow,
The evergreens with glassy needled leaves;
A bloodstone veined red and white this view weaves.”

– Lynette Roberts, ‘Winter Walk’

A pied wagtail scurries across the garage forecourt, bobbing its head busily as it goes.

Tiny white flakes eddy and swirl in the air while snow is blown in dusty clouds from the top of the greenhouse. Pigeons jostle for a warmer position in the Leylandii.

Like a showgirl, the frosty pavement shimmers under the streetlights, silver lamé to brighten up my morning.

I discover that the French for pie chart is ‘camembert’ and resolve to use this at every opportunity!

Queues of golden raindrops glimmer along the washing line against a backdrop of red berries and grey skies.

A sudden flurry of wings outside the kitchen window draws my attention; a great tit pauses dramatically on the top of a garden cane, before fluttering away again.

Looking up, the tops of the Scots pines explode into the sky like fireworks.

Along the margins of the road, at all of the corners, is a thin line of squashed carrots, a timely reminder that this is Norfolk and it is winter.

The crescent moon sits like a jewel on the sumptuous blue velvet of the pre-dawn sky.

Pink smudges decorate the edges of the sky; the day clinging stubbornly to the last of its warmer temperatures.

Two kites circle vigilantly in the skies above us, their wings flicking and twisting to maintain their height.

Wind smashes against the building and periodic splatters of raindrops splash against the windows; it’s going to be a long day.

As I walk under the outspread branches of the maple tree, three pigeons take flight overhead; a sudden shower of raindrops pelts me. Stupid pigeons!

Revising Macbeth with my Year 11s, I left a quote on my board, “A little water clears us of this deed.” I come back later to find that someone has graffitied it with the words, “No, it doesn’t. Lol. ‘Out, damned spot'”

I am entertained.

Gulls scream raucously and enthusiastically from the roof of the Sports Hall during line-up, their voices drowning out the party line.

Thick mist wrapped tightly around the playing fields makes our building feel isolated; a small boat adrift in an endless sea of grey.

A song thrush trills and warbles derisively from the hedge as I hurry past.

“Late again,” he seems to say.

A squirrel bounds along, tail flying like a pennant behind it, sparrows flitter to and fro from the feeder to the hedgerow, and blackbirds splash in the puddles from last night’s rain. We’re all taking advantage of the bright morning sunshine.

It almost feels like spring is on the way.

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Tags: adventure, appreciation, attitude, change, changes, children, clouds, cold, colour, connections, creativity, details, education, experience, exploring, gratitude, hedgerow, knowledge, learning, life, light, little things, moments, mornings, musings, nature, Norfolk, normal, observation, people, positives, positivity, rambling, ramblings, random, school, seasons, stories, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, weather, winter
Categories : appreciation, birds, change, clouds, cold, colour, connections, details, education, gratitude, imagination, knowledge, learning, light, memories, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, people, positivity, school, seasons, sky, stories, time, weather, winter

Birdsong in December

31 12 2025

“I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.”

– Oliver Herford

Above my head, the tips of the oak branches gleam as if gilded by the sinking sun.

Power walking past me, her trainers squelching through the sticky mud, a lady holds the lead of her small, curly-haired dog high, as if competing in the ring at Crufts.

A single silver star punctuates the deep blue of the dawn skies.

Even my footsteps are muffled this morning; school is adrift in a sea of thick, grey fog.

The circle of ducks on my desk are migrating, following meandering paths across the wooden land.

Streaks of red reflect in the wet road surface behind the string of cars.

Small, silky buds have appeared on next door’s magnolia tree; the ghosts of flowers yet to come.

A hierarchy of teachers has appeared on my whiteboard; cause for great hilarity amongst staff.

“Mr M: stole the wheels from the computer room chairs.” (He was fed up of them wheeling around the room on them!)

“Mr J: Late notice for EVERYTHING! Flaky as anything!” (I tend to agree)

“Mr C: Room for discussion” (He’s new)

Two geese march across the skies; their plumage dark against the misty morning.

Wisps of cloud hang, ghostly amongst the trees; hauntingly lit by the shafts of sunlight shining through the branches.

Like a disruptive child, a pigeon calls, its call taken up and repeated again and again by its friends.

White birches dance gracefully at the front of the stage, the darker chorus line of pines behind them providing an atmospheric setting.

Framed by contrails, three buzzards circle lazily in the pale blue expanse of sky.

Where sunlight touches, condensation boils off like smoke from an unseen fire.

The girls have brought dolls in as props for their drama performance today; watching them revert to childhood as they play with them before school is a delight.

My Year 11s look at their recent mock exams and compare them with the work they’ve done in lesson today, tentative smiles spreading across their faces.

They might be realising they can do this …

Two seagulls standing on the roof of the Science block are taking it in turns to scream stridently, and have been doing so for ten minutes. The Year 8s valiantly try to suppress their giggles, with varying degrees of success. I can’t really blame them.

Robins sing as I hustle up the road; joyful heralds of the last day of term.

Tree trunks are adorned with an intricate Celtic knotwork of ivy.

A pigeon sits judgementally on top of a streetlight.

Scapegoat Hill is huddled grumpily under a thick, grey duvet of fog.

Streaks of twilight are scribbled messily across the sky.

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Tags: adventure, anthropomorphism, appreciation, attitude, changes, children, clouds, connections, creativity, details, education, end-of-term, experience, exploring, gratitude, knowledge, learning, life, light, little things, moments, musings, nature, Norfolk, observation, rambling, ramblings, random, seasons, students, teacher, thought, thoughts, travel, winter
Categories : appreciation, change, colour, connections, creativity, details, education, gratitude, knowledge, moments, nature, observation, positivity, stories

Smoke signals

14 12 2025

“There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.”

– Vincent Van Gogh

Another quick one … life is busy at this point in the year (and the term) what with Christmas and its inevitable celebrations, birthdays, parents evenings, garage appointments (My car has decided that it’s not satisfied with any of its tyres or the oil it currently has!!) and baking.

I did manage to carve out a couple of hours for a wander at Wretham yesterday though. It had been cold overnight with a light frost, but the morning was fresh, clear and very sunny (I’m pretty sure I still have small purple dazzles in front of my eyes as I’m writing this!).

As I walked down through the first section of forest, sun rays shining through the trees were illuminating the wisps of mist that remained and punctuating them with thousands of tiny starbursts emanating from the dew drops that hung from every twig. It was like walking through a magical land … or at least it would have been, if not for the many, many, dirt bikers that had chosen to make it their playground for the morning.

As I walked, I was convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me; I kept catching flashes of movement in my peripheral vision but when I turned, there was nothing there. Was I seeing the movement of birds in the undergrowth? Faeries dancing in the mist? Animals scurrying for cover?

It was only when I reached a more open area that I realised that it was the condensation from the melting frost boiling off in the sunlight. Curls of smoke lifted from the bright embers of the bracken, twisting and dancing in the air before dissipating into sunbeams. I watched, entranced by the sight and lulled into immobility by the movement.

Shaking myself from my trance, I continued on down the path to see what other treasures I could find.

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Tags: adventure, appreciation, art, attitude, bracken, clouds, cold, colour, connections, creativity, details, experience, exploring, frost, gratitude, happiness, learning, life, light, little things, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, positives, rambling, ramblings, random, seasons, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, trees, walking, weather, winter
Categories : appreciation, clouds, cold, colour, details, forest, gratitude, imagination, light, memories, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, positivity, walking, weather, winter

A quick share …

3 12 2025

“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.”

– Ernest Hemingway

Just a quick share today as I didn’t manage to organise myself very well and the more detailed posts that I started planning are still very much in the planning stage. Let’s (very charitably) call them ‘works in progress’.

I get many pictures drawn on my board, and they range from the artistic to the absolutely ridiculous, through something that can only be referred to using the acronym WTF?. Charlie tends towards the former, with stylised cartoons that make me smile.

This delightful little creature was what greeted me at the end of lunchtime yesterday. I don’t know whether it was because she was feeling a little anxious, or whether anxiety in general was just on her mind (or maybe she has a very anxious cat), but either way, he was a great companion for the afternoon lessons.

He has been replaced today by a Christmas dinosaur. Very festive, but somehow not quite as endearing.

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Tags: anthropomorphism, anxiety, appreciation, art, attitude, children, classroom, creativity, details, education, experience, gratitude, kindness, life, little things, moments, musings, observation, positives, positivity, rambling, ramblings, random, school, students, teacher, teaching, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought
Categories : anxiety, appreciation, art, children, connections, creativity, details, education, imagination, moments, observation, positivity, school, students, teacher, teachers, teaching

A rainbow on a rainy Saturday

1 12 2025

“Where does the rainbow end,
in your soul or on the horizon?”

– Pablo Neruda

Regardless of the fact that the weather people say winter doesn’t arrive the first of December, in my little world it seems to have been here for weeks. After a very dry summer, the rain is making up for its absence.

Norfolk is brown in winter; soggily, squelchily brown. With accents of grey. And occasional outbreaks of pheasants. It is in direst need of some colour. So when I saw an Instagram reel from someone (@emilydubious) who was searching for rainbows, it struck a chord.

This is my Saturday rainbow. It was raining and, as I often do, I had repaired to the kitchen. Looking out of the window as I washed up after my latest bread experiment (Gluten-free walnut and cranberry 😋), I realised that I had the beginning of a rainbow right in front of me.

The red berries of the shrub I thought was a Robinia, but that turns out to be a Cotoneaster jump out at me first. This tree drives me insane throughout spring and summer when it grows ridiculously quickly, no matter how often (or how far) I hack it back. Having said that, its flowers buzz constantly with a whole collection of insects and I do appreciate the pop of colour from the berries at this time of year.

The orange is a shrub that I actually knew was a Cotoneaster, although its a completely different Cotoneaster from the first one. In autumn, its glossy green leaves turn a vibrant orange, their circular shapes always reminding me of those Australian aboriginal ‘dot paintings’ that depict stories and journeys.

I brave the rain to grab some pictures at the far end of the garden, and notice that behind the summerhouse, a single yellow rose is still in bloom. Goodness knows what on earth it’s thinking; there are definitely no pollinators around at this time of year, but it’s a welcome spot of sunshine right now.

The lime green leaves of a maple seedling are poking out through the overgrown mass of my lemon balm drift. It’s a self seeded plant that I’ll have to remove at some point; there’s no space for a maple in my herb beds. But for now it can stay where it is. It has at least had the courtesy to plant itself in a trough rather than between the paviours.

The darker green is a parsley plant that I’m ridiculously proud of. Mostly because it upsets mum no end that I can keep mine going. She may be much, much better at plants than I am, but she can’t keep parsley alive to save her life!! The fact that I like the taste is just an added bonus.

I think I’ll struggle with the rest of the rainbow, but the dumpy bags that the gardener has filled with leaf litter tick off blue and purple nicely. I love the frayed threads round the edges and the movement of the blue strands.

Pink is my watering can, currently redundant as it lies, slick with water, in the rain. It’s got some nice shadows though, delineated by the harsh daylight.

The rain is starting to fall harder now, so I retreat hurriedly back to my kitchen and the warm scents of baking. Outside will just have to wait until tomorrow, but I have my rainbow.

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Tags: appreciation, attitude, autumn, colour, connections, creativity, details, experience, life, little things, moments, musings, observation, positives, positivity, rain, rainbow, rambling, ramblings, random, seasons, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought, winter
Categories : appreciation, baking, colour, connections, details, gratitude, moments, observation, positivity, rainbow, winter

The uncanny witchery of November

29 11 2025

“November–with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westering hills. With dear days when the austere woods were beautiful and gracious in a dignified serenity of folded hands and closed eyes–days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless gold of the juniper-trees and glimmered among the grey beeches, lighting up evergreen banks of moss and washing the colonnades of the pines.”

– LM Montgomery

The branches of a weeping willow flutter gracefully in the breeze like a row of pennants at a medieval joust.

In the deepening twilight, a female pheasant scurries almost invisibly across the road.

Underneath the bronzed woodland canopy, a pine tree’s spiked skeleton lies, dark and bare.

Silhouetted trees and buildings overlay an eerie orange Halloween sky; it’s only a week late for decorations.

Having decided I’m a witch, one of the Year 7s says I must have a house full of spellbooks. I’m agreeing (just for giggles), when from the other side of the room comes the comment, “And they’ll all be in Latin!”

Their expectations of me are high!

A shower of sycamore leaves from above heralds the progress of a grey squirrel skittering through the branches in search of snacks.

Above me, in the flat grey sky, a single swan passes by, wings creaking rustily through the air.

A peacock butterfly flutters to the ground in front of me, its rich red reminiscent of the beech leaves it’s surrounded by.

Pink and silver skies glitter over fields and hedgerows as I set off on the drive to work.

The day dawns bright and clear; a promise that today will be a good day.

One of the Year 7s tells me her mum has synesthesia: I’ve never even peripherally met someone with it; I have so many questions.

Two geese fly low over the road, their wings moving in complete harmony, white patches shining in the early morning light against black feathers.

I’m distracted from my marking by the sight of a pigeon that is trying to alight on the slender branch of an ash tree outside. It wobbles backwards and forwards on its springy perch … aren’t we all just trying to find our balance?

Juliette stops at the end of the lesson to tell me that she is part of a singing group outside of school that is performing a Christmas concert in Ely cathedral at the end of December. I’m almost as excited as she is.

The morning arrives in a flurry of lemon yellow skies and brownish-grey clouds. A whisper thin crescent of radiant silver glows above the trees.

Laden tractors, orange lights flashing, crawl backwards and forwards along the darkening road, each with a long trail of cars following like ducklings behind their mother.

A thick, sullen grey fog lies over the town, cradling in the cold. As I leave, I emerge into another world where golden sunshine floods over the road and the skies are blue.

Sparrows twitter companionably as they forage amid orange berries in the top of the close cropped hedge.

“I’m so glad you’re back, miss,” are the first words I hear from Rosy, “Now I can rant again!”

Yes Rosy, yes you can. And I’m so glad to be back listening to your endlessly entertaining rants.

In the hedgerow, a crop of crab apples glow golden yellow in the sunshine; fitting prizes for some mythological hero.

The beech leaves have quietly turned to tarnished copper and slipped from the branches into thick drifts at the base of trunks.

The air is cold and silver gilt, nipping at my face and pinching my fingers.

Winter is here.

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Tags: adventure, adversity, appreciation, attitude, autumn, behaviour, change, changes, classroom, connections, creativity, details, experience, exploring, friendship, gratitude, knowledge, learning, life, little things, moments, musings, nature, Norfolk, observation, people, positives, positivity, rambling, ramblings, random, reflection, school, seasons, stories, thought, thoughts, train-of-thought
Categories : appreciation, autumn, change, connections, details, gratitude, memories, moments, nature, Norfolk, observation, people, positivity, stories, walking

Portrait of a tree: Skogsrå

21 11 2025

“I want to be magic. I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile.”

– Charles De Lint

There’s something about trees that appeals to my imagination. And there’s something about trees in autumn and winter that leads me straight into folkloric tales. Trees have such personality, so many individual characteristics that when you meet them in the forest you can’t help but see them as people.

In Scandinavian folklore, they tell tales of a forest maiden who, from the front, is the most beautiful creature ever seen but whose back is hollow and resembles the bark of a tree. She lures men into the forest with her beauty and then, once they have lost their way, abandons them to their fate.

On a quick Saturday wander at Didlington a couple of weeks ago, I’m pretty sure I met her. I was following a path that was somewhat less … pathy … than it could have been. The track had been subsumed by drifts of mostly bronzed bracken that was almost as tall as I am. I was meandering along next to a small stream, aiming to circle round to meet up with another track that led back to the car. Occasional thuds and rustling in the undergrowth told me there were deer in the vicinity, even if I never laid eyes on them. On every step, I had to raise my knees right up and kind of jump over the leaves. After what felt like about four miles of this heavy going but was probably closer to five hundred yards, the trees thickened and the bracken thinned.

The trees were mostly conifers, with the occasional hardwood thrown in. Here, the ground felt spongy,; thick layers of pine needles have built up over time. Suddenly, amongst the trees I spied the large, sturdy trunk of an oak. Solid and gnarled, she stood firmly planted in the woodland. The scar where a branch has fallen from the tree stands out like the all-seeing eye of a cyclops and whiskery growths sprout from all around the trunk.

I continue circling the trunk, taking photos, and when I reach the far side, I discover that she’s mostly hollow; gnarled and lined bark giving way to the cleaner lines of bare wood. Her wood is patterned with several series of holes, probably formed by Andricus quercuscorticis. The asexual galls of this wasp are embedded in the wood of the tree and when the insect eats its way out, it leaves behind these ovoid holes. Tiny, sequin-like spangle galls litter the floor and trunk, the larvae inside them developing slowly, ready to emerge as adults in the spring.

I reluctantly drag myself away, very conscious that the weather is worsening and if I’m not careful, I’m going to get very wet. Skogsrå may not have lured me to my doom, but I certainly lost considerable time as I circled and re-circled her huge trunk, exploring her quirks and characteristics.