A winter wood reveals the bones of the landscape it grows upon, the geographical contours of slopes, gullies and hollows.
Imagine a slim bird like a big swift, one as long as your hand from wrist to fingertip, and with huge, black-ink anime eyes.
As a child, I lived in dread of jellyfish. As an adult, my horror turned to wonderment, love and awe.
Since its publication in 1967, The Peregrine has been celebrated as the “gold standard” of nature writing, counting Werner Herzog amongst its devoted fans.
Those boxing hares by the A505 were a glorious sight, but a poignant one.
Hawfinches are legendarily mysterious, secretive and difficult to find, writes the author of H Is for Hawk.
Their destructive power forces you to recall the vulnerabilities of your human frame.
Hope and terror on a winter walk.
The award-winning writer's winter reflection.
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The Chartered Institute of Building and the New Statesman gathered a panel of experts to discuss the wider social and economic impact of the built environment.
Every year, the hedgerows are quieter. The author of H is for Hawk mourns the loss of the spring birds – and issues a warning for the future.
It’s impossible to regard the natural world without seeing something of our own caught up in it.