The oaks bear it. The brunt of the sun. Turn their bitterness to acorn and gall. Buddleia is wilting, the weight of the butterflies barely registers. Whispering - ‘Remember how to be gentle before the burning time’.
The forest always goes past at 80 miles an hour. My eyes are impatient lovers, the purple bruise of heather spreading under my proprietorial gaze. Yet the shimmering heath renders beauty, even unto seizure.
I walked here two weeks ago, deliberately stamping so that the adders could make their excuses and go elsewhere to bask in peace. Some diamonds should not be seen; reptiles spurn the recognition gemstones seek.
(This week’s recording has the ambient sounds of the pigeons and other birds of dusk in balmy south London, as it was too hot to close the windows at my brother’s house, before the storm broke.)
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This podcast was originally published here on Substack July 28th 2025, with full transcript, photos, links and footnotes.
