There are miles of hedges locally - some new hedges, thin, sleek and upright, growing fast, and old ones, beautifully gnarled, twisted trunks and branches, a knotty lattice, topped with fresh green spring leaves. It is into this mossy deformed and curved wood that the birds flit and dart to their cradled nests and for refuge. At the base the litter is deep and soft and the earth dry. There are signs of digging, of nibbling and traces of fur left behind, of latrines and food caches.
They tell us so much, and they're worth getting to know. Today whilst working I've been thinking of their beauty and their stories and thinking of the lanes here, bounded by Hawthorn and Blackthorn, froths of blossom enclosing and protecting. Interestingly, Hawthorns are among the trees most recommended for water conservation landscapes.
Old Hawthorn - a lovely and evocative name for a property - I've been carving the words into stone for a house name plaque to be built into an entrance wall, and enjoyed the lettering. Just wondering though, if it ought to have been in Hawthorn wood.