Home. I had not been to Devon for a year and wanted to see my brother and sister in law. It was the first long drive in the new car. An initiation of sorts. Perhaps. The car was great but the journey down was dreadful. Jams and crashes and delays. But even so I had planned to stop on the way to visit a stone circle (of which more later). That involved miles of narrow roads, the bracken brushing the wing mirrors and several long reverses back to passing places when we met on-coming traffic.
I was a couple of miles from the stones, when I saw this wood and I had to go in.
Blackaton Copse may not be temperate rainforest... but, well, it may... when I was there it had recently rained... or had been misty and the water droplets formed on the leaves and dropped all around me. It is ancient. I saw the remains of bluebells and a badger sett.
It was utterly magical.
The trees are so characterful!
And, as in Burnham Beeches, baby oaks were growing everywhere.
This image shows an oak - the far left stem - which has been embraced by a pair of beeches (and the car).
It's the sort of place that has a good vibe and it relieved the tension of the six hours in the car by that point. The air so clean and the water so pure. The trees so majestic and the land so relatively unharmed.
It was only tiny and there was no path up the hill, but it didn't matter. It contained its own universe of meaning and being.
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