Ash walks out from cauldron of decay

Waresley Wood, Cambridgeshire From the rotting log, branches grew at a right angle, thickening to become new trunks

It was raining leaves in Waresley Wood, on a day so still it felt that every fall might be recorded in sound. They came from on high, striking branch after branch on their descent as if they were playing pinball, making light scuffs and scrapes with each deflection.

Often they dropped out of sight, but others fell close by. One landed at my feet, bedding down on the woodland floor with the slightest of noises, a mouse's sigh.