Terra anachronista

As soon as you step away from the road, which crosses the heath like a causeway across water, you enter a different time zone: the wood is old and twisted (here washed into a temporary flow-line), the growth takes decades to inch upwards, everything is as if in suspended animation, freeze-framed by a long-forgotten spell. Its quite a relief, in some ways, an expanding time, but how can this anachronistic landscape find a place in the present? Must it always refer to the past? [I’m looking from some answers tomorrow when I meet with a Commoner and Forestry England.]

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