Author Archives: Amanda Tuke

10th May 2020 – upstaged by a blackbird singing

I’ve been in the woods early twice this week already as I need to record two ten minute readings of some of my blog posts for the @UrbanTreeFestival starting 16th May. It has been far harder than I expected and on occasions excruciatingly frustrating.  Each time I’m coming to the end of what I think […]

3rd May 2020 – cutty wrens and the sweets of may

In the woods by the tunnel mouth, I bury my face in a spray of hawthorn blossom, and breathe in the sweet almondy scent. Apparently white from a distance, up close the five-petalled flowers have distinctly pink anthers. In this shady cutting, they positively glow. It’s international dawn chorus day today. I didn’t organise myself […]

26th April 2020 – mapping and mining

When I was a parent of small childen, a map of south east london would have featured playgrounds and child-friendly cafés. With children now grown and independent, I see the same area as an interconnecting set of green patches punctuated by local shops (which might still be selling vegetables). Mapping is important for a number […]

19th April 2020 – well-trodden paths and the quiet American

The woods are still bursting at the seams with exercising visitors. In most cases, we’re all careful to keep our distance and appreciative when others do.  But there’s a cost to us avoiding each other. Over the last few weeks, a network of minor paths has become established. It’s not that they weren’t there before, […]

12th April 2020 – searching for the origin of a sweet, heady scent

I first noticed it yesterday midday on the way home laden with shopping bags. It was wafting out of the woods, a sweet, heady and tantalising scent. Early this morning I set off through the woods in search of its origin but it’s gone. For nectar production time of day is everything. I’m reminded of […]

5th April 2020 – clamour before sunrise

It definitely isn’t a chorus. There’s no shared endeavour here or any sense of singing together, despite what we might prefer to believe. At 5:20 this morning, every bird in the woods is fighting for an aural gap and his chance to shine. I’m driven out before sunrise by the desire to have the woods […]

29th March 2020 – the fizz of a blackcap’s song on an icy morning

There was a sprinkling of snowflakes just as I leave the house but I’m not deterred. While I know the changing of clocks is meaningless, it still gives me a feeling of urgency to get into the woods. Pushing open the gate in the icy wind, I look up and see redwings moving surreptiously from […]

22nd March 2020 – an early start and things look different

Of course it’s great that people are finding solace in nature during this time of semi-lockdown, but in well-trodden suburban nature reserves this has different implications from the countryside. I have to confess I’m finding sharing my local patch with an influx of new walkers and runners quite a challenge, and yes I know that’s […]

15th March 2020 – a tiny explosion of stamens and an unexpected visitor

When there’s craziness everywhere else, there’s even more reason to spend time in the quiet and calm of the woods. Better than worrying about where we’re going to buy pasta and tomato paste. This morning I’m trying to deal with a much more manageable problem.  Is this explosion of stamens on a goat willow or […]

8th March 2020 – the thrum of botanical details

M joins me in the woods this morning.  We walk and talk about family things but also notice the aftermath of the week’s rain and wind. An oak tree is down, and has already been processed to clear the path.  The dark stain of decay is clearly visible on one side of the sawn trunk. […]