Part two; The Nook or Hollow

“…Maybe we have just been too distracted by our own creative genius, to notice that nature actually misses our companionship and symbiosis. In consideration of that, what better time than the spring, to regrow that connection. 
And be drawn in interest and awe towards a nook or a hollow, hidden away in the dehydrated skin of an old tree.”

***

What drew our attention to the hollow was the fragile movement of something that we didn’t quite see. It might have been attributed to the percentage of reality that our brains invent. But none the less, the skin of this tree surely just jumped a few inches higher up the trunk.

This is just a very interesting place to be, but I don’t want to lay any pretences on you. This is not magic, or anything particularly strange and twinkling. This is sanity, it’s slow and natural and occurs in balance of the things around it. 
It’s a wonder to behold to the human eye and fascinating to be turned over by the mind. But otherwise, it is a normal and comfortable place to be. 
It is very much home to all of us. We very rarely go there, but that is where we came from.

A face appears at the mouth of a hollow and seconds later a Nuthatch fires out of it. The hollow is a nesting site and the succession of hollows beneath it suggest that this is the work of a woodpecker, re-purposed by these new birds.
The second of the pair flits out of the hollow, flying south in the direction of the trampled path, either side of which the bluebells have colonised every square inch of forest floor in the wake of spring, seen from a distance to be as thick and blue as an ocean tide.
This place ordinary, but extraordinarily rare. The birds songs break over the wind and even so, the loudest sound here is still the cry of an ambulance far away in the distance.. 

Every few minutes the birds return, beaks stuffed full of invertebrates to feed their demanding offspring. A chorus of cheering breaks out of the hollowed trunk, followed by a sudden silence and the parents rapid departure.

Urban wild. The space we gave to nature.
We could stay here a while and see where this discovery takes us. “ Here” there is a fear of the living world that we only just notice; the fear that something off the beaten path will bite us, or sting us or stick hard into the soles of our feet. Most people wouldn’t think to do this, most people would think it was quite strange to take off their shoes in the woods. Regardless of this, what we really want to do is wade into these bluebells without crushing them – and considering the absence of the bees and butterflies, unlace our boots and pull them off.

The thrill of a slender, shiny stream unfolds through the dense matter of earth and plant roots on its way down to the creek at the trough of the valley. As the sound of running water has its own natural gravity, it lures us towards its shallow banks. Some places just draw you in you see, and we should do less to resist this pull. 

The trees on either side of the bank are velveted in thick, green and mosses, giving way to partial lichens up the trunk and ferns that hang off the branches like feather bowas, quivering in the steadily building wind.

It feels like you’ve got the world to yourself out here. And as the human ear instinctively attunes itself to the change of scenery, the murmurs of the modern society are gradually attenuated through a small distance.

Then there’s a gentle “thudth” as some wild animal lands linear against the tree, just higher than the crown of our heads. Sending a cascade of debris into our hair as it starts to crawl up the trunk.
Its a thrilling experience but we dare not look up, instead listening intently to the frequent call the animal is making, trying to match it against a sound that we know. Finally looking up we see the skin of the tree jump just a few inches higher up the trunk, its tiny white chest standing out against the bark as Polaris does against the night sky. A Treecreeper. A bird about the size of a chicken egg, with a specialised downcurved bill and long, stiff tail feathers that exert against the wood for support.
It’s sole purpose in life is to breed, feed and sing. In other words, it is very important.

Swept about in all this, our attention lingers along the slender form of the tree. Unaware yet of the change in the smell of the air and the humidity felt about the back of our necks and around our ears.

Meanwhile the gentle drum beat of the gathering rain echos down through the woodland canopy.