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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryA Short Climb markle25 years 1 month ago
StoryDown the Track markle65 years 2 months ago
StoryUnder Water markle45 years 3 months ago
StoryTwo Hours markle35 years 3 months ago
StoryBomb Shelters markle45 years 4 months ago
StoryLights in the Sky markle85 years 4 months ago
StorySpring Not Yet Out markle05 years 5 months ago
StoryThree Liberations markle65 years 5 months ago
StorySomewhere Not Quite Known markle45 years 6 months ago
StoryA Globe of Birds markle85 years 7 months ago
StoryNight Journey markle25 years 7 months ago
StoryTwenty-One Tumuli markle25 years 7 months ago
StoryLow Water - The Draining of Regents Canal markle65 years 8 months ago
StoryHawkwatching markle85 years 8 months ago
StoryA Sort of Pilgrimage - Glastonbury Tor markle25 years 9 months ago
StoryFloodplain (3): Hogacre and On markle25 years 9 months ago
StoryFloodplain (2) markle25 years 10 months ago
StoryFloodplain markle45 years 11 months ago
StoryWalker in the Storm markle25 years 11 months ago
StoryHilly Fields markle26 years 2 days ago
StoryMeetings markle46 years 1 week ago
StoryGreen Lights markle26 years 1 month ago
StoryCezanne on the Pennine Way markle46 years 1 month ago
StoryBorrowed Time markle66 years 2 months ago
StoryCup and Ring markle06 years 3 months ago

My stories


Summer on Port Meadow

The river ran a ring of ice around my ankles as I stepped out of the thick air and onto the spiky soil of the riverbed. On the far side, the plane of...

Badger in the Light

It’s like a lamp in the dark field. Not an electric bulb, but a silver flame, always changing shape, pulsing and shifting. But the source of light –...

Opinions on Pigeons

Until recently I never had much time for woodpigeons. They always seemed quite puddingy, birds that galumphed and little else. Once, in the garden, I...

Deer in the Garden

It was as though a brushful of red-brown paint had been dropped on the grass. Then, as it moved in the winter sunlight its shape resolved, and it...

Heron Haunting

Mist on water always makes me feel pursued. Crossing Iffley Meadows during a chill sunset, I never stop glancing toward the river, where silvery...