I walk the wood most mornings. Dylan my border collie/whippet cross accompanies me. This morning things have changed. Well-trodden pathways are no longer familiar. There is no chance of my getting lost; the routes through the wood are far too well-known for that to happen, but habitual turnings have taken a new dimension. The cause of all this is the heavy fall of leaves in the night. A blustery downpour of rain has persuaded many of the trees that the time has arrived for them to finally give up their seasonal hold upon the canopy.
The wood is mainly comprised of sweet chestnut trees and although early indications had suggested a poor harvest, the floor is actually covered with very many brown nuts, though many are undersized. Nevertheless, I have collected enough for roasting on the open fire. But it is the new carpet of leaves that has fundamentally changed the character of the wood and made my twists and turns slightly more hesitant than is usually the case. This however is just a forewarning of what is likely for the morrow. The forecast is for gale force winds and this could well mean that my walk is curtailed. The chestnuts have very tall straight trunks which sway prodigiously in a strong wind, but, are likely to stay upright. I love to be out and feel the full force of nature in its many and varied aspects, but the risk has to be taken into account and a wood in a hurricane is not the safest place to be. The animals and birds should be largely unaffected, and from my selfish perspective, there should be plenty of fallen timber to help me supply the fire.