Fascinating session considering walking in literature yesterday led by Anna Stenning in Ledbury. We read prose extracts from Robert MacFarlane, Linda Cracknell and Richard Maybey and heard poems from West Midlands poets Ruth Stacey and Jenny Hope as well as the Dymock Poets writing before WWI before we ambled up to Frith Wood.
We had to finish at lunch time but I carried on alone, which seemed fitting; exploring the well-made path, eating a few of the wonderfully fat sweet chestnuts scattered amongst their bronzed fallen leaves and cactus-prickly burst pods.
Not so sweet when raw; they need to be cooked and their astringent fluffy inner coat removed to taste at their best. Ravens’ argued with aggrieved crows somewhere high in the trees.
Gusty wind swooshed through tall firs like waves across shingle, scattering pale green-gold lime leaves over me. Following a well-use badger track off the main path I…
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