This week began with my betrothed and I taking a walk in the woods. It was May day morning and the bluebells were thick and vibrant underfoot. We found a secluded grove and made a mini-camp, our picnic and thermos stowed under a cloak so we could roam unhindered. We rambled through woods coppiced and untended, enjoying the bright spaces and thick spring growth in the former, and the romantic tangles and looped tendrils of dead honeysuckle in the latter.

Having worked up an appetite we returned to our picnic spot and had breakfast. Once we'd feasted Tom struck out and came back with a straight, tapered length of young sweet chestnut sapling. He used his knife to strip the knots and buds from it while I wove a garland for my hair out of honeysuckle and hazel leaves.

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