
There’s always something wondrous to see in “the Bog” on the edge of Wells – more correctly called a fen, I’m told.

One of my favourite things to observe is the annual movement of willows that spring back after a winter bent under the weight of several metres of snow. The dark colour of their branches absorbs heat from the sun and accelerates their rate of recoil. Their imprints remain in the snow where they used to lay underneath.
