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Walking in the wild woods at midwinter

This piece for the Guardian Country Diary was inspired by a night walk in the woods near Wytherston with members[…]

The River Tone at Taunton flows brown beside shopfronts, cafes and the Brewhouse theatre, sliding smoothly under footbridges, easing by[…]

‘It was raining when he arrived – that was to be expected in the countryside.’ My short story Wild Apples[…]

Ten o’clock on a hot, still evening with the dew falling like nectar on parched ground. As the dusk gathers,[…]

Who was St Wite? Nobody knows. She is a mystery, and that is part of her power. There are no[…]

The sound of chiff-chaffs shouting in the woods falls away as I follow the South Dorset Ridgeway upwards to the[…]

It’s the yellow that catches my eye. Bright egg-yolk splotched with black warts, glistening against wet tarmac. Long, striped toes.[…]

Nearly seven thousand years ago the people who lived beside the Samara River on the Russian steppes created a cemetery[…]

It takes five workers eight hours to thrash three acres worth of wheat reed. That’s enough to thatch the average[…]

Some places invite responses from the deepest part of the unconscious mind. Dig down through the strata of fiction and[…]