Going to Whiteways Lodge was a regular Sunday outing when growing up; after Sunday lunch we piled in the car (that only came out of the garage at weekends) and off we went usually ending up walking in the woods.
An awful lot of the old wood was decimated in the 1987 hurricane but there is still a wonderful atmosphere walking through all these young vibrant trees.
We only saw a handful of other walkers so it felt like we had the woods to ourselves.
Back home mummy bear made lots of piping hot porridge.
We always used to walk from Cissbury Ring to Chanctonbury, the latter of which I was convinced was Pooh's Hundred Acre Wood when I was small (I was small once). Whenever I come back to Sussex I always consider myself 'home' when I catch that first glimpse of Chanctonbury atop the whale-back ridge of the South Downs as you race down the A24.
ReplyDeleteWe are lucky to live 'twixt woodland and sea. I have just about managed to recreate a bit of that being on the Hudson but within a short walk of the trees in Central Park. It's good to still feel close to nature even in the middle of a metropolis ;)
I wonder when walking in woodland just how far civalisation has really come as I have a tremendous urge to forage and make a shelter....or perhaps it's just me.
ReplyDeleteI think it's the primeval tendancy - you've just gotta listen out for it. I'm permanently re-watching Robin of Sherwood (don't tell me what that says about me) and I am totally there with you - foraging for comfor but also for magic in the great forest of life...
ReplyDeleteand there was me just looking for some nuts!
ReplyDeleteNo, I agree completely; maybe some of us are nearer to the woods than others?