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Dryads, death, a sett and a staff

Short Wood. I love Short Wood. I also love Ian, Ian and Claire - whose patience, generosity and tolerance enable an eccentric Crone to learn and feel more or less at home.


Anyway, the fungus on the front page was as large as a dinner plate. It had only the very faintest mushroomy smell.


It was growing on an Ash that had been coppiced a hundred or so years ago. From that stool, three trunks sprouted, but this one had fallen and rested in the branches of the next door tree - I think a Beech.


We talked of how this wood was all felled about century ago - and old as it feels, none of the trees are veterans. Yet it does have a special feel about it.


Even the predators kill symbolically.



I found a badger sett - latrines and all!



And was gifted what I shall call a 'Staff of Power'.


A Hazel wand that had been bound with Honeysuckle and had grown into a perfect spiral.

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