I was driving down a two- lane by-pass alone with only the sound of the old heater to keep me company. It was a typical overcast and cool autumnal day in the North West of England. The hills in the distance were dull shades of orange and yellow, the tall grasses now dropping their weary heads and beginning to lie down for the cold months ahead. Internally I was beginning to feel the slow gear change that moves us into autumn, that period when an invisible force begins to maneuver me out of the fast lane of summer, ease on the breaks and moves me into the slower lane of autumn, although difficult for somebody who loves the high speed of summer I was reluctantly surrendering to the a new found calm that this time of year brings.
Ahead of me and high above the grasses on the top of the hill side I spotted it! A resplendent aura of many shades of bright green. Ignorant to the advancing autumn, a stubborn immortalization of summer standing boldly looking down into the valley. I felt something tug my heart, maybe within that beautiful forest I recognised a piece of myself, a connection. I knew at that moment that I had to go there.
Twelve months later we bought a house in walking distance from that mesmerising place that we now call ‘The Silent Forest’ and as a family we began to visit regularly, sometimes for a day to explore, some days to build dens, sometimes to read in a hammock and occasionally we would light a fire, stay the night and listen to the ‘other world’ that emerged from the darkness; the hooting of owls, the scurrying of badgers and the cool wind that climbed the hillside on its way to the beautiful starry night sky. We discovered the stories of the forest and wrote some of our own, we visited in all seasons and in all weathers, we took time to notice the changes in the forest and we noticed how our emotions changed with each visit too.
We connected with that special place we discovered and all the while I wondered if it was the place that discovered us.
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