I met Steve in the early nineties, but haven’t seen him for a good few years now.  So I was delighted to come across his blog.  Here is a sample:

On a clear and crisp Sunday morning in the churchyard at Teynham, muffled sounds of singing escape the thick, flint walls of the old church. In the treetops and overhead, fieldfares laugh their pagan cackle; redwings rustle deep within the heart of berry-laden holly trees; immigrant blackbirds pink pink and a local robin ticks from the ivy-covered boundary […]

via Curlew River — Notes from Wild Places