MARCH 2023 · GROUNDED
Leigh Woods, Bristol
Avon Gorge, Bristol
Leigh Woods sits above the Avon Gorge on the Somerset side — ancient woodland, the kind that's been standing since before the gorge was bridged. In March the canopy is still bare, which means the light comes through further than it will in summer. You can see into the wood.
Two things operate here simultaneously. One is natural process: branches falling, moss colonising trunks, dead wood staying where it lands, the slow accumulation of decay. The other is management: the fenced paths, the stacked timber, the deliberate interventions that keep the wood accessible and in some version of productive health.
The wood doesn't care about the fence. It grows through it, over it, regardless.
Leigh Woods — March 2023
The fence along the main path is weathered grey, the posts leaning slightly. Leaf litter is undisturbed in thick layers on either side of it. The fence says: here is the edge of the managed part. The moss-covered trunks on the other side say: this was here before the fence.
One image is a stack of felled branches beneath tall trees, loose and irregular, the moss on the trunks behind it doing its slow work. Another shows a wooden enclosure — logs stacked neatly inside a fenced square beside a sunlit path. The sunlight on that path catches the dust in the air above the litter.
What I was looking at was the difference between these two registers — the controlled and the incidental — and how they sit together in the same frame without conflict. The wood doesn't care about the fence. It grows through it, over it, regardless. The management is a conversation that only one party is having.
Weathered wooden fence along a forest path lined with tall trees and autumn leaf litter
Stack of fallen branches beneath tall trees with moss-covered trunks in ancient woodland
Wooden fence enclosing stacked logs beside a sunlit forest path through Leigh Woods