“Are you sure this is the way?” said Alfie, scrambling up the hill after his sister.
“I don’t know alright?” replied Eva sharply, staring at her phone as she strode on ahead. “I’m still trying to get a signal.”
“That’s what you said, like, half an hour ago.” said Alfie, holding up a chubby wrist. “We should have stuck to the path like I said. Then we wouldn’t be lost!”
“We’re not lost.” retorted Eva. “Look, we’re nearly at the top of the hill. There’s bound to be something on the other side.”  

But there wasn’t. There were only more trees, thickening into an impenetrable distance.

“Great!” sighed Alfie. “What now?”   
“I dunno,” replied Eva, uncertainly. “Keep going until we get signal, I guess…” 
“But what if we don’t?” asked Alfie.
“We will.” snapped Eva. “This is Wales, you know, not the end of the world!” 

The forest seemed to grow darker here, more gnarled and the children were quieter as they went, nervously looking up at the great oak trees that surrounded them. With their wrinkled old trunks and branches bearded in moss, the trees looked like sentinels, silently watching as the children passed deeper into the forest.

“Evie,” said Alfie in a small voice after a while. “I’m a bit scared.” 
“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s only a bunch of old tr… ” began Eva but then she stopped. Standing in front of them was an old man. 
“Where did you come from?” exclaimed Eva, staring at him in astonishment. He was, in fact, an extremely old man with a tangled white beard and even whiter hair and he was carrying a wooden staff. 

“From the forest.” replied the man in a melodious voice. “Where did you come from?”   
“We were on our way to the seaside but our parents got lost!” said Alfie excitedly. “So they parked up to look at the map – only they can’t read maps so they started arguing! And me and my sister went to check out the forest – then we got lost!” 
“You do not live in the forest?” asked the man. 
“We live in London!” replied Alfie, grinning confusedly. 
“Who lives in the forest?” said Eva, staring at the man.
“Once upon a time, we all lived in the forest.” replied the man and his eyes, which were a brilliant azure blue, seemed to darken with the weight of the loss. “Once, forests like this one covered the entire country.” 
“Right…” said Eva, frowning. “And…do you live in the forest?” 
“As long as there is a forest, I shall live here.” replied the man. 
“Great! Then you must know the way out?” said Alfie briskly. 

The man bowed wordlessly, gesturing for them to follow him through the trees. 

“So do you, like, live in a tree-house?” asked Alfie.
“I have no house.” replied the man. “The trees provide my shelter. The leaves, comfort. The wood, warmth.” 
“Is that why you’re not wearing any shoes?” asked Eva suspiciously. 
“What need have I for shoes when the forest provides such a carpet?” he replied and the children saw that up ahead, the floor of the forest was sprinkled with thousands of tiny blue flowers, glowing like fairy lights under the darkened canopy. 

They followed the old man through the flowers to a tinkling stream that led off down the hill.

“Ah, we’re back here.” said Eva, looking around. Then she frowned. “But how did you know where our parents were parked?” 

The old man pointed to the canopy and through the leaves, hanging behind them like a painting, the children could see fields, great dazzling squares of green rolling one after another, into a cobalt sea.    

“What you were looking for?” he said. 

They followed the stream down the hill until the children spotted a splash of yellow paintwork and then their parents, hunched over the bonnet of an enormous 4×4. Amazingly, they were still arguing.    

“So much for mum and dad being mad.” snorted Eva. “They haven’t even noticed we’re gone!”
“But they must of! It‘s been, like…” began Alfie. Then he stopped. 
“What?” asked Eva. 
“My watch says it’s still two!” replied Alfie, staring at her. 
“Two? As in the time we left mum and dad?” exclaimed Eva. “You must be looking at it wrong!”
“No I’m not!” said Alfie indignantly. Then he turned to the man. “Have you got the time?”
“Time passes differently in the forest,” he replied.
“But we’ve come out at the same time?” said Eva, frowning perplexedly at her phone. “The same time, although we’ve been walking for ages! How is that even possible?” 
“Think of the forests… as a way into the past.” replied the man, closing his eyes. “You may enter them in your time but if you keep on walking, who knows where you will end up. You may end up in my time – or some other time entirely. But what I do know is that without the forests, there is no way back.” he went on, opening his eyes and looking directly at Eva. “That is why you must protect them.” 

Eva was staring at the old man but then she heard her parents, distantly calling their names. Alfie set off down the hill, waving excitedly, but Eva turned to the man.

“I‘m sorry – what did you say your name was?” she said. 
“My name is Myrddin.” replied the man, his face crinkling into a kindly smile. “But in English, you would say Merlin.” 
“Merlin?” repeated Eva incredulously. 
“Come on Evie!” called Alfie from the bottom of the hill. 
“I’m coming!” shouted Eva. Then she turned back to Merlin. But he had disappeared into the forest.

Author: Tim Davies, The India Story Agency for Sacred Groves
Images Credit: Sacred Groves Founders’ images of Coed Rhyal

The post Found in the Woods – short story inspired by Coed Rhyal appeared first on The Sacred Groves.

A Welsh folk poem dating back to the 14th century Derwen Ceubren yr Ellyll, or ‘The Hollow Oak, Haunt of Demons’ tells of an ancient oak that bears witness to the betrayal of Welsh revolutionary Owain Glyndŵr by his cousin and English royalist Hywel Sele, supporter of King Henry IV. The cousins embark on a deer-hunting trip, when Hywel turns his sword on Owain, who has suspected his motives and worn chainmail. In a fight to the death, Hywel is vanquished by Owain and:

“Pale lights on Cader’s rocks were seen,
And midnight voices heard to moan;
‘Twas even said the Blasted Oak,
Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan…”

Owain conceals Hywel’s body in the old oak’s great trunk and never tells of the murder, only bespoken by the oak, which grows gnarled and twisted in its dark knowledge until, many years later, Hywel Sele’s widow leads a band of men to split the oak’s great bole to find her husband’s body within, a rusting sword clutched in its skeletal hand.

Hallowed by the Celts, great oaks traditionally served as meeting spots and boundary-markers to Welsh wayfarers in an era when upland oak woodland – dominated by sessile oak (Quercus petraea) and local pedunculate oak (Quercus robur) and typically supporting 500-plus plant and animal species as well as other trees such as alder, ash, birch, hazel, holly, and rowan – covered much of Wales’ landmass.

These days woodland only covers 14 percent of the current land surface in Wales (in comparison to a European average of 37 percent), and as of 1998, only 38 percent of Welsh woodland was composed of native species such as oak (Welsh Assembly Government, 2013). This process of gradual deforestation is thought to be down to many factors, including destruction of woodlands during English King Edward I’s seizing of Welsh territories and the hunting-to-extinction of apex predators such as the Eurasian lynx (Lynx lynx), European brown bear (Ursus arctos) and the grey wolf (Canis lupis) from the early to late middle ages (700s to 1500s) resulting in an irruption of herbivores that devoured emergent tree saplings.

The final crisis point for many of Wales’ upland oak woodlands were the World Wars, when a rapacious appetite for timber led to upland oak woodlands being force purchased by the British government’s Forestry Commission, felled and in many cases replanted with non-native fast-growing conifers.

One woodland’s tale: Gigrin Prysg

I’m standing in a stretch of upland oak woodlands in a region of mid-Wales whose fate charts the turbulent fate of Wales’ upland oak woodlands. From its slanting escarpments are visible the brooding blues of the Cambrian Mountains and the sheening dams and reservoirs of the Elan and Claerwen Valleys; brushing my ankles as I walk along the woodland’s steep-inclined pathways are mauve heather, fronded ferns and bushes of bilberries, a tiny dark berry that makes a fine late summer pie.

“Those are good indicator species that this is ancient woodland,” says Marc Liebrecht, a Sustainable Forest Management specialist who maintains Gigrin Prysg for Sacred Groves. “As are the lichens that you see on the oaks over there, such as wood bristle-moss and old man’s beard lichen.”

An 11.8 acre stretch of mature oak woodland, Gigrin Prysg translates as ‘Gigrin’s grove’, for an 18th century local farm owner. Its ancient trees were felled, Liebrecht believes, for World War Two timber and have since grown back and reseeded naturally from dropped acorns, in higgledy piggledy patches and clusters of oaks.

The oaks also support the growth of rowan and birch trees in the gaps in the canopy left by this natural dispersal of saplings. Deadwood left to rot on the site provides a home for species including blue ground beetle (Carabus intricatus) and crane fly (Lipsothrix errans).

The lack of ruminant grazing on the site will allow further trees to grow from the tender saplings at our feet, Liebrecht says, as Sacred Groves plan to leave the woodland to rewild and reseed naturally, with the help of supporters.

Regenerating Wales’ lost woodlands is, Liebrecht admits, a long game. Easily felled, oaks grow slowly (at around 50cm a year), and it’s hard to predict if pests or erratic weather conditions borne of climate change will threaten the viability of this native species, as has been seen with Ash dieback (Hymenoscyphus fraxineus), a fungus that arrived on British soil in 2012 and which is predicted to kill 80 percent of native ash trees (including a patch on the western edge of the Gigrin Prysg site).

“For dynamic resilience you need mixed wooded ecosystems with different species and ages of tree, and you need time,” says Liebrecht, gesturing at Gigrin Prysg’s boughs. Gigrin Prysg’s venerable Welsh oaks will live, he predicts, to witness other tall tales.

Author: Sally Howard, The India Story Agency for Sacred Groves
Images Credit: Sally Howard and Hollow Oak illustrations out of copyright

The post Gigrin Prysg: Portrait of a Welsh Wood appeared first on The Sacred Groves.