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Writer's pictureJen Blaxall.

Murmeration and moments of joy in the New Forest

Busy with life, I haven't been out on the forest for a couple of days and it was pulling at my heart.

Pools of water that sat on the heath glistened in the low winter sun as I paddled my way though in my wellies. The ponies were glad of small suntraps to finally dry their backs while snoozing in the warmth.

So much colour! Bright blue skies against the reflecting puddles, autumnal leaves of russet, bronze and emerald and juicy red rosehips decorated the scrub with some offering the fluffy "pom pom" Rose galls,

but my attention was soon drawn to a starling murmeration as they danced in the sun and swiftly shifted direction. I was momentarily blinded by them flying into the sunlit landscape, but they just as quickly came back into view and it was obvious there was no particular destination and who would want to leave such a magical landscape!

When the display had lessened I wandered out of the watery plain and entered the ancient woodland, where the forest floor was a joy to the senses alone with the shapes, colours and textures of fallen leaves. The ancient beech trees looked more impressive than ever with the sunlight bouncing off their tired boughs, almost naked of leaves showing off their true form.

Redwings foraged and deer hardly made a sound roaming the woods across the damp carpet. I sat on a log for a while and opened my flask perfectly positioned in the sun and admired the colours, sounds and smells of my surroundings as the sun warmed my face.

I was back exactly where I needed to be. In that moment my heart had lost that feeling of yearning as it filled with gratitude for sharing the forests last hoorah! Of colour and foliage before it let's go and the trees become dormant once more.


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