An Autumn Day Amongst Lincolnshires Lime woods.

My Ancient LimeWood bordered by the river Witham has long served man's needs .Its history reaches back into the Iron Age, Fiskerton fen has given up several oak dug out boats that might easily have begun their lives growing there.

Thus it is that each autumn as I walk through it I think of the many souls who have shared this unique workplace over the past three thousand years.As I stand on the river bank facing east I imagine the journey across Lincolnshire to Boston,The Wash and on out into the North Sea.West is the city of Lincoln with it's 11c cathedral dominating the surrounding countryside and then via the Fossdyke ,a Roman canal on to the river Trent and on again to the Humber estuary.

The river by my wood at Fiskerton is quiet now and I can only dream about what an important travel artery it has been for the Celts, Romans, Vikings and many more who have left their indelible mark upon this9 landscape.

Beside my wood was Barlings Abbey which until 1537 had been one of the richest and most influential monastic houses in England, its monks would certainly have been coppicing my wood ,making charcoal and encouraging their pigs to root among my acorns.

Today the wood is peaceful and warm in the late autumn sun, as I pass the boundary bank a large red dog fox leaps in front of me and glances unhurried in my direction, before disappearing into the brush and brambles, passing down the forest ride I just catch a flash of grey and white as a sparrow hawk hunts down a pigeon and flashes over my shoulder, somewhere deep in the wood a woodpecker works rhythmically and the sound echoes through the trees, around my feet butterflies are still feeding on my last season coppice regrowth.Finches and Tits dart through the bushes hunting insects.In a clearing just off the ride a pair of Roe deer graze not bothered by my passing,Hares gambol and box each other on the forest floor.I pause and rest on the trunk of a fallen tree and imagine the monks of long ago working through the coppice as I would soon be doing as winter sets in and the leaves fall.

My peace and quiet is wrecked by a low flying jet fighter and I am dragged back to my modern world with a start.Momentarily annoyed I glance down at my boots and I see a dormouse nestling against my laces as if seeking safety from the roar of the passing jet.A perfect moment to end a day in my ancient lime woodland in which I am seldom alone and never lonely.