Country diary: A glorious springtime copse, blighted by discarded tree guards | Susie White

Northumberland: It's a bright morning with primroses, dog's mercury and a sense of vitality, but the plastic seems to be sadly unavoidableA hare springs away over the swell of the hill as we drop down into the wood. On this bright morning, a mistle thrush flings its clear song on to the breeze. Wild garlic shines emerald beneath the trees and woodrush thrusts through fallen beech leaves. Other signs of spring: arrow-shaped lords-and-ladies, pale green flowers of dog's mercury and, on a sheltered bank, the first primroses.There's a feeling of movement, of growth, of upward vitality. The thing that jars is that which is not alive: the twisted, distorted tubes of long-ago tree guards, redundant now that the trees have grown. They cling on, cloven in two, forced apart by bark, still attached to mossy stakes by black ties. Or tumbled and half buried in grass and soil, where they will remain for many years. In an act of guerrilla tidying, we gather a load of the split, broken, battered plastic and pile it under an old piece of wriggly tin. These pieces will still break down into microplastics, but removing them frees the struggling trunks. Continue reading...