Woodlands were the playground of my childhood. Between us my brother and me had every wood within half an hour’s walk of us mapped and named, their features described and transformed.
The path through that closest to us became our train track. There were hiding trees and camps, there were places where baddies lived and others from which we kept watch.
Yesterday I took Luca for a walk through the woods in which I used to play. He’s not yet four and a half but he’s starting to make the transition from their being dark and menacing to becoming mysterious and exciting. He’s beginning to turn them into a landscape of his own imagination.
It’s at times like this that I think we envy our children and remember what it was like to discover the world for the first time.