Once upon a time, there was a girl who always tried her hardest at everything. It was a time when the earth was dry and made of rubble and dust. A time when everything was scorched, a little red, and very, very dry. The girl was the last girl but she did her best not to think about that. She walked the land picking up this thing and that, rearranging them into interesting shapes so that she might populate the sparse land with something like creation. So that when her eye scanned a horizon, she would know where she had lately been and where was still to traverse. As time went by, the last girl learnt to dig into the ground to find things to make her sculptures with. She found bones and roots, rocks and ancient mycelial webs, shells and fossils: the myriad remnants of an ancient world. She brought
You’ll have heard of the Eye of Sauron, and some of you will also have heard of the Eye of Horus, but it is unlikely that you will have heard of the Eye of Beechus. The Eye of Beechus is only visible on days when there is a milky white sun slung low in the sky and everything is a little bit damp and bitter. If you see it, you should know that it symbolises the need to not second guess yourself. Stand firm, stay true, don’t think, keep on. The best way for me to tell you about the Eye of Beechus is to recount my experience with it, so forgive this personal and informal piece of reportage. It is not the finely honed, professional type of writing you have come to expect from this nature reporter with a very important job to do. However, sometimes I feel it is
This is one of the most uncomfortable pieces of reportage I have provided thus far. The fact that I have soldiered on should demonstrate how dedicated I am to being a nature reporter with a very important job to do. For my mind is screaming, my heart is quaking, my skin is crawling, and yet and still, I must be faithful to nature and pass her story on. This rather beautiful knot is the winning entry of an under 12’s competition run by the spiders of Tankersford Common. The competition entails young spiders making their web offerings at dusk, and then overnight, the Ice Elemental comes and chooses the one they like best by making it glitter and glint in the morning sunlight. The young spider responsible for the winning entry this year is called Emily and she is actually a nice one. It is very difficult for me to admit
Flat Adder wasn’t always flat, nor an adder. He had an unfortunate accident in his 32nd month which he has miraculously managed to transform into good fortune. This is why no one argues with him about his claim to adder-hood. There is too much to admire to quibble over such insignificant aspects of his personhood. Being flat allows Flat Adder to see into another dimension which is 42 seconds ahead of ours, but otherwise exactly the same. As a result, a great many people come to visit Flat Adder so that they might know their immediate future. He has to speak really quickly to say the future before it happens, and if anyone knows adders, they’ll know how difficult a feat that is. All snakes are languid in nature and therefore not moved to particularly fast speech. As a result Flat Adder speaks in part-sentences. He’ll get out the first two
As you can see, this rock contains the sunset. Apparently, if you are willing to stand there long enough, it might even become the sunrise. But I’m an impatient sort, so for me, it was only ever the sunset. A nice one though, don’t you agree? I was on a journey from one there to another along the North Downs Way when I found it. After about five minutes of a captivated stare (and the occasional cautious caress), I felt my corporeal existence waning. My body seemed to melt away and then, the next thing I knew, I was on a small boat on that sea, sailing towards that giant black cloud on the horizon. I realised that I was dying, but at the time, I didn’t seem to mind that at all. As I sailed, all manner of strange beasties jumped out of the sea and over the bow of