I took my time with this book, so as to savor it. As essentially a collection of Deakin's diary entries prior to his death, there isn't a lot of structure. So taking it in little bits feels more natural, like an extended exchange of letters with him. As good as this book is, it can't really compare to [b:Wildwood: A Journey through Trees|1344371|Wildwood A Journey through Trees|Roger Deakin|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1182883358s/1344371.jpg|1333971]. ( )

A perfect book to keep by the bed and read last thing at night, little by little as the seasons go by. It is a mix of Roger Deakin's diaries from several years and has been brilliantly edited. Evocative of the seasons and his deep love of the natural world, his cutting intelligence shines through allowing you to enjoy but keep the questions going. ( )

A delightful, but slow and sometimes aimless book. It's an odd form - entries from 6 years' worth of journals, compiled by the late author's partner into one composite year. That made for somewhat disjointed reading, in that every time I put the book down it took me a while to get back into its rhythm. On the other hand, that format combined with Deakin's lovely evocations of place and mood builds up a gorgeous and very alive portrait of where he lived and the passage of the seasons. ( )

A delightful, but slow and sometimes aimless book. It's an odd form - entries from 6 years' worth of journals, compiled by the late author's partner into one composite year. That made for somewhat disjointed reading, in that every time I put the book down it took me a while to get back into its rhythm. On the other hand, that format combined with Deakin's lovely evocations of place and mood builds up a gorgeous and very alive portrait of where he lived and the passage of the seasons. ( )

Just one snippet from this book can make your day. Take this one about brambles: ‘I have been cat-scratched so many times by brambles that I ought to hate them, but instead I love them’. You can agree or disagree but that's not the point. The writing and the feeling it evokes is the point. It provokes you into your own writing and experiences. I haven’t much experience of cat scratches but I do know that brambles hurt. Coincidentally, for the first time in years I saw a cat in our back garden earlier today. It looked shifty. I wonder if it was this black cat that kicked an apple off the wall that separates house number 62 from house number 60. As a further distraction, as I am writing this at 1725 on this most beautiful day I have become aware of a robin creeping up behind me. It was more like a stealthy hop then a creep, a robin just making sure that I knew it was there. Grass now covers a flowerbed that last year was a brambles zone. Into the plants I would push my ungloved hands to snip off some growth. On withdrawal there would be multiple scratches just above my wrist together with blood and a bramble refusing to let go. I disagree with Roger Deakin. I do not love brambles. Right now on my right arm I have wounds healing from cutting back undergrowth infiltrated by brambles. They’ve been there a week or more. I was very careful about the act of cutting and the removal of the spiky tentacles. The retaliation came later. As I was forcing all the cut twigs, branches and foliage into a bin bag, the brambles came to life again, grabbing hold of my flesh and cutting it to ribbons. Brambles are spiteful creatures and get no sympathy from me. This urge to respond or add arises so many times in the reading of this book. ( )