Eighth Anniversary of May’s Wood

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Please enjoy these lovely pictures to mark the 8th Anniversary of the planting of May’s Wood, (then and now), kindly shared by Linda Lamon. Linda recently visited the woodland, lovingly planted in 2013, when local residents and children came together with Brian May, his Save-Me Team and supporters, to create this magical place for future generations to enjoy.

Thanks to Linda for a superb visual record of how the woodland has grown and matured in those eight short years and has become a delightful and peaceful haven for wildlife and walkers alike.

The Main Ride - © Linda Lamon
The Main Ride – © Linda Lamon
Brian plants first tree 2013 - © Linda Lamon
Brian plants first tree 2013 – © Linda Lamon
Guelder Rose Berries in May's Wood - September 2021 - © Linda Lamon
Guelder Rose Berries in May’s Wood – September 2021 – © Linda Lamon
Spindle in May's Wood - © Linda Lamon
Spindle in May’s Wood – © Linda Lamon
Brian planting the first tree 2013 - © Linda Lamon
Brian planting the first tree 2013 – © Linda Lamon
Brian's Oak branches - first oak planted as it is now (September 2021)  - © Linda Lamon
Brian’s Oak branches – first oak planted as it is now (September 2021)
– © Linda Lamon
First oak that was planted in 2013 - © Linda Lamon
First oak that was planted in 2013 – © Linda Lamon
Bee on dog daisy - © Linda Lamon
Bee on dog daisy – © Linda Lamon
Ladybird May's Wood - © Linda Lamon
Ladybird May’s Wood – © Linda Lamon
Small white on thistle © Linda Lamon
Small white on thistle © Linda Lamon
Comma in May's Wood - © Linda Lamon
Comma in May’s Wood – © Linda Lamon

To May's Wood

To May’s Wood,

I sang for you, that morning. With the school kids and their parents. And I took four saplings and dug a hole for each. For my grandchildren. And their future children. And their future children’s children. Your soil beneath my nails. My life entwined with yours.

Oak and Beech and Guelder Rose. Spindle, Dogwood, Rowan. I lost one love and I found another. I say it was like planting a baby, and it was. From that moment, we were joined. You cried. I heard. You needed me. I needed you. There was joy and terror both.

I say you were planted with love, and you were. There is not enough love in the world – I realised that – and you have helped me magnify the love there is, and pour in more.

And now I watch you grow. From a distance these days, though you’re so deep in my heart I feel we’re together, always. I photograph. I talk. I sing. And I dream for you – a pocket of hope, a haven for wildlife, a place for others to be inspired, to understand that things can change, that we can change.

I love you in spring. I love you in autumn. I love you all the times in between. I love you at dusk, when the sun makes the sky dance orange. I love you in the morning when the birds sing and your creatures are stirring.

I am happiest lying in the midst of your wildflowers, watching butterflies and bees sipping nectar. Or when I climb to the top, where the old oak reaches out its branches; I sit on a log with my sandwiches and flask, listening to the crickets, pretending I’m Thomas Hardy for a while.

Oak and Beech and Guelder Rose. Spindle, Dogwood, Rowan. I lost one love and I found another. And when they say, ‘haven’t you found someone?’ ‘Aren’t you lonely?’ I try to explain. You’re never on your own when you’re in nature. It’s just a matter of opening your eyes. Opening your heart. Taking what is offered.

All my love, Linda

Interview and writing by Sarah Butler