During the cold, wet weeks of winter, when the days were short, darkness shrouded the vicinity. Heavy rain often fell and the wood was dark and sombre. The fog descended and wrapped around the trees, supplying them with an aura of mystery. There was a faint, yet detectable presence in the air, which filled the mind with eerie thoughts and visions. The whole place felt hostile, as though it didn’t want you there. As though there was a deadly secret being kept. There was little or no sound, only the consistent dropping of water from boughs of trees, which landed continually into the pond at the centre of the woodland. Human activity was rare in the winter, the harsh climate deterring people from visiting the isolated area. The people who did visit were alone and silent. Visibility was very low and the trees, fighting the cruel wind, groaned.
As the winter faded away and the spring moved closer, the mood of the wood changed dramatically. Great bouquets of daffodils and hyacinths appeared, and snowdrops multiplied and canopied the ground. The sun beat down, and although still cold, it was so much more pleasant. A fresh bracing breeze flowed through, nature’s air conditioning. Bright green buds appeared on the trees. A light frost on the grass and the leaves made the place sparkle, adding to the fairytale scene. The scent in the air was alluring. Nature, now preparing for progeny, came back to life. The male birds sped around, searching for material for the nest, the females resting, in wait for the fledglings. It was the most peaceful part of the year, just the chirping of the birds to be heard.
Summer was hot, and people were attracted to the wood like bees to a flower. Butterflies, of all kinds of magnificent colours, fluttered beautifully. Small birds sang mightily, acting as the messengers of nature. The pond was now a more attractive feature. It glistened, dragonflies hovering above it and the lilies flowered; it looked pretty now, not like the large muddy puddle it resembled in other seasons. There was a bustle of ramblers; it wasn’t abandoned as it was in winter. It was much more welcoming and open. Hundreds of bees flew by like golden nuggets, sparkling in the dazzling sunlight. The green trees whispered in the slight breeze, telling you their once forbidden secrets.
