Walking part of the Icknield Way near Great Chishill, convolvulus was scrambling through the nettles, jays were screeching in the wood and autumn leaves beginning to fall. Spindle and sloe were in berry, and a pair of buzzards circled over the fields.
Further along, on a stretch through woods near Royston, old tree stumps have been left to die back, providing all kinds of invertebrates, mosses, lichens and insects with a habitat.
Only he who lives his life as a mystery is truly alive
Stefan Zweig
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