Summer in the Brecks is hot. Even under the shade of the trees. Even when a wind disturbs the leaves. It’s stifling, suffocating, sticky and stuffy. The weather feels like the depths of boredom and indolence – a living metaphor for my state of mind.
Apart from a month away in March, I’ve walked in the forest multiple times a week as part of my project to get to know the forest’s year. Coming home to the forest in April was a balm but, not long afterwards, I grew tired of doing the same walks again and again. My motivation to go out and take proper notice dwindled.
I started this project to get to know the forest better but, from May through midsummer my focus was so poor and my learning so incremental, it was hard to see the growth in my relationship with the landscape. I tried to create a list of discoveries in my mind, but it was all muddied. I started to think I hadn’t learned anything at all. More than that, I began to crave open space – literally dreaming of fields stretching to the horizon and grass beneath my feet instead of forest floor. The open spaces round here don’t stretch that far, hemmed in on all sides by the forest. The never-ending, inescapable forest.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Field Diary to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.