February, the sky is grey and the drizzle relentless. It is cold, damp and dreary. And yet signs of spring can be seen and heard in the wood. Bluebell leaves are emerging under the leafless trees, and birdsong is slowly ramping up. The chatter of woodland workers drifts through the undergrowth as scrub is cleared and blackthorn hedges are laid.
So let me introduce myself: a district nurse turned conservation worker. Once tending to the chronically ill in the comfort of their own homes, now caring for an ancient woodland and an eclectic group of volunteers. Not dissimilar occupations, the recipients of both require support, encouragement, nurture, cups of tea and maybe even a slice of cake.