Wild Writing in Wessex - Felling our Childhood Woods

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Wild Writing in Wessex - Felling our Childhood Woods

Postby Nicola Chester » Sat May 12, 2018 3:54 pm

Bird nesting season and they’re chainsawing the wood.

And not any old wood (is there such a thing?) but ours. Our wood. And they are not just chainsawing it. They are eating it up and spitting it out with enormous, apocalyptic forestry machinery. They came unannounced, without approach, consideration or enquiry to the wood in the centre of our village; a wood that generations of children, including my own, have grown up in. My youngest, aged ten, is primed for action: ‘we can build dens, treehouses, throw water bombs at them!’ she cries, in her deep conviction that this cannot be allowed to happen. And I have to turn away. I, who have brought her up with such stories. Of how I lay in front of cherry-pickers and breached police lines, stood in front of men wielding chainsaws inches from my face and wrists. But what can I do here? Home looks like the aisle of a bombed out, broken half of a church. And just when the tenderest leaves are unfurling. Everything is sacred. Nothing is safe. https://nicolachester.wordpress.com/
Nicola Chester
 
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