The glory of an english woodland. I feel a visit coming on. (Thank you, Ross).
It might seem like on odd to thing to say of any woodland, but on visiting Staverton Park in Suffolk for the first time I was left with the impression of never before having visited somewhere quite so defined by its trees. This is clearly a case of stating the blindingly obvious, so perhaps I should explain further.
I am a naturalist often with an eye for the small detail within. Trees are remarkable plants, but it will often be within the context of them as the basis of the rich and remarkable woodland ecosystem that I find wonder. At Staverton however, it was all about the trees. On one hand there is the park proper, a landscape of centuries old oak pollards with a wood-pasture feel and sheets of Bluebell. The area may have been the site of a deer park in the Middle Ages and a fenced encloses…
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