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Writer's pictureJen Blaxall.

The enchanted Ytene-wood

It's been a magical couple of days in nature. I am so lucky to have such special people around me, to enjoy the beauty of the forest with. Under the stars last night and amongst the sun drenched conifers this afternoon.



While I still nurtured the feeling from last night's wander under the full moon, I headed out this morning on my own in anticipation of visiting one of my favourite woodlands, and as I walked closer to the gap in the trees to enter this wild and enchanted Ytene-wood the sun started to burn away the fog. Ancient trees with mossy boughs, draped in lichen and decorated with ferns bring a depth of green against the autumn colours that were illuminated by the sunrays which pushed through the thinning canopy.



Shapes, colours and textures of the abundant fungi embellished the trees and carpet like jewels, and the combination of fallen deadwood and no particular trodden path forces you to slow.


It forces you to stroke every moss-laden trunk. It forces you to feel the texture of every fungi and forces you to stand in the sunrays and admire the colourful landscape.



In that moment of stillness, I could hear red deer rutting in the distance and noticed a roe deer watching me from behind a tree. Ponies snoozed in sunny glades and beetles battled the forest floor.



I went and sat with my favourite tree in the woodland. I apologised for not visiting for a while, but he still held the space in his power and strength and made me feel safe in my random thoughts and musings. His energy always allows me to find a solution or inspiration, and today was no different. Thanking him and leaving him the feather I'd been carrying, I continued my meander where the pigs had obviously been recently leaving snuffling evidence behind.


Mesmerised by the goldening bracken and the smells of moss, mushrooms and warm autumn sunshine, there was that noise of rutting deer again! But this time, it was fallow, and this time not so distant.



With every wildwood step, a robin hopped closer amongst the branches and nuthatches foraged amongst the fallen beech nuts, but both flew away with urgency as they were disturbed by movement between the trees. As I turned to see who the culprit was, the fallow buck trotted with purpose almost past me as I stepped behind a tree for his space, and mine. He bellowed as he disappeared out of the trees, sending an encompassing echo through the ancient land.



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