This morning I had to shave a bit off the garden shed door to allow me to grab the saw. The recent heavy rains had swollen the door so that it was fast in the opening. With the use of a large screwdriver and a bit of muscle I manged to get it open. It served as a reminder of the fact that wood is a living organism, even after it has been separated from its roots. Then I got on with the first job of the morning sawing almost the last remnants of our old garden fence destroyed in the great Cockermouth flood of 2009. The pieces were then chopped into kindling wood for the fire. Another way in which wood helps us out. Coming inside I had a listen to some recordings of me playing guitar – a magnificent special guild D50 from 1974 built with rare (in fact quite rightly almost impossible for luthiers to source these day) Brazilian rosewood and Sitka spruce. The sound, like the wood, is stunning and memorable – like a cask strength Islay whisky. Yet another beautiful manner in which wood enhances our experience. Later, as I look out of the window towards the copse a sparrowhawk banks towards the bird feeders scattering the tree sparrows and chaffinches to all quarters. Out of the wood comes a fantastic sight.