Quotes About Woodland

In America the most widespread type of forest is the evergreen coniferous woodland of the north.

Research gathered over recent years has highlighted the countless benefits to people, wildlife and the environment that come from planting trees and creating new woodland habitat. It's obvious trees are good things.

The key to our oldest woodland is that it has been cut down and regrown, in some cases as often as 50 or 60 times. It is one of the most perfectly sustainable resources and ecosystems known to man.

The more people share woodland, absorb it and regard it as part of their personal heritage and culture, the richer our society will be. The more people can work in woods and use them practically rather than go through the motions as a kind of ersatz exercise, the more they will care for the places themselves rather than the political idea of them.

Tree roots hold river banks together and stop the wind blowing soil away, there are many creatures that live in woods and they provide a sense of well-being and look nice.

Our ancestors went to the woods to find fuel; they set snares there for birds and gathered nuts and fungi.

Straight-faced, Hamon said, "I'm honored to be working alongside someone with such expert woodland knowledge, superior battle skills, and an impressive beard." Ven stroked his beard. "Indeed you are.

sylvan netherworld

A room in Holmhurst was the last thing she'd come to - better to lie down in the wood under the beech leaces and the bracken and wait quietly for death.

trunk and on the ground immediately beneath the tree.

In Canada, anything that's not in the city is referred to as a cottage. Or a log cabin.

The French word—actually it's a Norman word," said Colonel Bruce, "is bocage. Ancient by any standard. Won't trouble you with etymology. Basically it describes a terrain featuring a checkerboard of pasture, woodland, brush, hill, hedgerow, farmer's fields plowed or unplowed, lots of cows and bumblebees

The woodland smelled of moss, damp wood and healthy decay, so unlike the sinister damp of the house, where she often found herself wondering what might be rotting away around them.

By the time the kits were ready to be apprenticed, the truth about who their father really was would be unable to shake the loyalty of their woodland Clanmates. Even Oakstar would understand, once he valued the kits for themselves rather than any legacy they might carry. And once RiverClan gets to know them, those cats will feel the same!

WindClan hunting in woodland. What next? ShadowClan fishing in the lake?

just mean that ours was the kind of town where bad things could happen and everything could remain under the surface. Something about it always felt . . . personal. Local. Something about finding that spot in the woods, being there at the right time, something about the timing of it all.

How many times do I have to tell you, Amelia? Men are like little woodland creatures. You have to lure them to you with tiny breadcrumbs and soft words of encouragement. You cannot simply whip out a rock and conk them over the head with it.

And beyond the timeless meadows and emerald pastures, the rabbit holes and moss-covered oak and rowan trees and the slippy sloppy houses of frogs, the woodland-scented wind rushed between the leaves and blew around the gray veil that dipped below the fells, swirling up in a mist, blurring the edges of the distant forest. (View from Windermere in the Lake District)

There's a wonderful woodland, spiritual song I wrote in Undercliff in Lyme Regis, and I used to walk up there with my dog and always come back with an idea.

They ploughed deeper into the vast woodland tracts, to areas where the tree canopy was so dense that only a soft, green light prevailed. It was mossy underpaw, and silent, the monolith trunks of giant trees reared upward, like columns of black stone.

I'm the youngest of three children. We lived beside a big beech wood, on the edge of the moors, in Northumberland, which was enormously good fun.

The point in Yalbury Wood which abutted on the end of Geoffrey Day's premises was closed with an ancient tree, horizontally of enormous extent ,though having no great pretensions to height. Many hundreds of birds had been born amidst the boughs of this single tree: tribes of rabbits and hares had nibbled at it's bark from year to year; quaint tufts of fungi had sprung from the cavities of it's forks; and countless families of moles and earthworms had crept about its roots.

Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.

The beautiful feet of the summer, So late by the woodland and rill, With slow, lingering movement are going Down the brown, southern slopes of the hills; Her dreamy-eyed sister, the autumn, Looks down at the summer-clad trees, And, 'neath her cool breathing, a garment Of brown is put on by the leaves.