Country diary: Where mosses green the gold | Elizabeth-Jane Burnett

The Marches Mosses, Shropshire: In this strip between bog and woodland, the moss brings you down to its level, and its paceDark water holds the fallen lights, these bronze leaves floating below the birch. On either side of the ditch, bog and woodland alternate between bare openness and the closeness of the trees. In this border, this in-between, in a vast area of restored peat bog, there is a deep stillness. Even the water does not move.The lit leaves form a trail that seems to want to lift the eyes, and yet they will not shift. There is a blockage, somewhere in the pull of the leaves, a weight that keeps the eyes sunk low. It is a glow coming from the banks. It is the mosses, gleaming along the flank. Continue reading...