Timber!

The day the woods fell down.

Friends,

This week’s episode was written by scratching words onto a stone while I roasted a squirrel on a sputtering fire in the wrecked remains of my kitchen. Or at least I imagined it to be so while the latest storm rattled my rickety home. Last week I wrote about Bert. This week it’s Darrah. They sound like a couple of badasses with muscles where they shouldn’t be and opinions so outrageous they’d make your granny faint. This is true of storms, at least metaphorically speaking. What is also true is that I’ve written about storms two week’s running. I apologise for this, but it’s impossible for an Englishman not to talk about the weather.

The story is also about fallen trees, deer in the tumbling woods, and about limits, the grace they can bring. It’s for paid subscribers, so please think about supporting this ongoing labour of love for the wild by upgrading your subscription. There are now almost a hundred stories and images behind the paywall dying to meet you . . . all for the price of a half heated burger and fries eaten hurriedly in your car while ketchup drips down your shirt. I promise you my work doesn’t leave embarrassing stains.

What follows is food for the soul. Hope you enjoy it.

J