Waking this morning to another hard frost, I wasn’t at all sure I was going to enjoy our planned morning activity. Signing up for a half day pulling up pine seedlings from my favourite wetland had seemed like an excellent idea back in October when the weather was mild. But last time we’d gone out there, in February, we’d been wading about in welly-deep bog (and sometimes – as I found out to my cost – welly-deeper). The thought of spending a couple of hours with wet feet and sodden gloves did not particularly appeal. The forecast was not that promising – cloud and zero temperatures. This was definitely going to be an experience to suffer through for the greater good…*
With spare socks, a change of dry clothes, and extra gloves packed, we set off with the car insisting it was -8C (it does tend to exaggerate cold temperatures, to be fair). As we stood around waiting for the others to arrive it was already very chilly – toes and fingers already starting to go numb. Setting off into the middle of the moss, I was mainly concentrating on keeping my footing as we picked our way along the top of the bund that was helping to re-wet the bog – falling into the thinly iced water on either side was not an option. It felt like it was going to be a long couple of hours.
But then, but then. The sun came out, and the place itself began to work its magic. Every leaf and twig was picked out in the white of the frost, and the air was still apart from a few bird calls and a couple of whirring snipe. As we hunted pine saplings among the humps and hollows of the bogs, the going was much easier than it ordinarily would have been, the tussocks of moss and heather frozen hard enough to walk along – as long as you kept moving. We fanned out steadily, each on our own private mission, deep into the heart of this magical place. With dry hands and dry feet, and the sun on our faces, it felt almost warm. The kind of sparkly winter morning Christmas songs are made of. A morning to relish, after all, rather than endure.
We had a lunch date with the Pepperpots, so we couldn’t linger. But we did manage to pick up a souvenir (with permission) on the way out. We’re in our own home for Christmas for the first time in many years, which has raised the dilemma of what to do about a Christmas tree. I’m not a fan of plastic ones, nor of growing trees just to cut them down for a couple of weeks as a decoration. But a salvaged Scots pine from a regenerating peatbog – that seems about as sustainable as you can get. I’m only sorry that logistics meant I didn’t bring it home by bicycle …
* and honestly, it is for the good. Trees are marvellous things for the climate, and we’re all about rewilding and regeneration these days, but raised bogs like this one are a rare and precious habitat and removing pine trees are will help restore it to its former glory.