In which I walk through the ancient wood of Mark Ash in the autumn, and think about the value of getting lost

In which I walk through the ancient wood of Mark Ash in the autumn, and think about the value of getting lost
In which I find that a place I first visited in spring - the Breamore Mizmaze, at the edge of the New Forest and Cranborne Chase AONB - is still resonant with life as the year draws near its close
In which I tread through a carpet of fallen leaves, acorns, moss and fungi in the New Forest