-5 in Savernake Forest this morning; the first hard frost of the winter of 14/15 – hoping not to be the last of the season. Following the previous years winter, somewhat of a disappointment for extreme weather touching the forest, those occasions I had mostly missed on the promise that another opportunity would be along soon. Not so this time I vowed and with the first signs of frost forecast I readied myself to see the forest frozen into its annual slumber.
At nearly 4 miles of continuously wooded sections and much larger if you consider its historical extents, the forest seems to have its own weather system. To the south mists drift into the fringes from the condensing ‘breath’ of the farmland frequently pierced by the rising winter sun to the south east, frost pockets gather in the exposed lower areas and while winds howl across the canopies; the forest glades shelter.
I knew where to go this morning, I’ve come to know the forest now – many visits over many years have taught me this. Making my way out of Marlborough town, up the rise to where the forest sits atop a chalk plateau the first signs were there. The kerbsides glimmered with the sparkle of frost jewels from my headlights, the tracks of tread marks over the soft carpet of frost. Passing the impressive pillared entrance to the north end of Grand Avenue the forest is quite dense and shelters the woodlands from the cold, but within a few hundred metres the woods open out into a small valley; as close as you will find to heathland in the forest. With small clumps of birch, pine and swathes of young willow, intermixed with brackens. Here you will find a frost pocket, sheltered from winds on most sides, last to see the sun; if at all in the Winter, open to the air. I was not to be disappointed, stretching out in front of me white frost hung to the fine filigree of drooping birches, the pines foliage turned a blue green from the cold shaded light juxtaposed against the frosted coppers of dying bracken – my heart jumped.
Stepping from the warm comfort of my car the intensity of the cold was immediate, the chill on my face, the plumes of breath and crackle of frozen beech leaves beneath my feet; this was going to be a good morning in the forest. The clear skies told me I wouldn’t have long until the sun cast light into the forest, but here, down in this small northern facing valley, I had given myself every opportunity of extending the potential for making images before the frost melted away. I made a few images this morning, my soul re-invigorated… this feels like it is going to be year the forest goes into a long overdue deep frozen slumber.