Hardest spot of the year to work. Right boot, black, laces missing, upper cracked across, off the main path in Honley Woods, in among the beech leaves. A black boot in beech litter is about the worst contrast the job offers, and the notebook credits the new camera's screen for finding an angle at all.
Still morning, the first hint of autumn damp. No stool — the ground were dry enough to kneel for the photographs, two of which come out. Flask conditions fair. Cheese and pickle. The boot were past saving, upper cracked right across, and had likely been under leaves through more than one autumn, though the book stops short of saying so and so shall I.
I remember this one, or I remember the kneeling, which comes to the same thing at my age. Woods are underrepresented in the register generally, and it's not because shoes aren't in them — it's because they're harder to see. I've said for years that the register maps where shoes are findable as much as where shoes are, and Honley Woods is my standing evidence for it. If woodland floors were mown verges I'd have twice the entries from trees. They're not, so I haven't, and I make my peace with that every autumn.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.