Arboreal afternoon

A beautiful day of frost and sunshine. 
In the afternoon I went to the woods where the valley side slopes sharply down to the little river below.
This is not a place for gentle forest bathing, there are no paths or clearings. It's a hanging wood: the trees  themselves struggle to maintain their root hold and many have tipped or tilted. Fallen trunks and branches lie in stages of decay, hosting lichen and crust fungi. Woodpeckers have performed keyhole surgery to extract grubs beneath the bark. Everything is in the process of change from one state to another.
My ramble becomes a scramble, a scrabble, a slither and a slide as I make my way through the wood, constantly changing direction to avoid  prickly  briar patches and spiky holly bushes, dipping, slipping and hauling myself up as I weave through the hazards. Even the dog loses her footing and falls off a log.The smell of damp earth, moss and rot fills my nose,  the white noise of the river fills my ears. Although there are things to notice everywhere there are no other sounds save the rustle of dead leaves and the crackling of twigs beneath our feet. It becomes a challenge to persevere but I will not turn back.

Finally we break free as we reach the edge of the wood. I know immediately where I am. The sun sinks below the opposite horizon and shadows lengthen across the field as we head for home.

Extra: crust fungi, woodpecker holes, where someone carved a date once - I958??