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Year 10 Tabitha commended in Henry Williamson writing competition

Tabitha’s entry received special mention from judges who were impressed by the high-quality writing and accompanying artwork.

The Henry Williamson Society holds its prestigious Schools Writing Competition every two years. For 2023, the theme was ‘Nature, the Seasons and the Natural World’.

Congratulations to Tabitha in Year 10, who entered the contest during the last academic year, for receiving special mention from judges for her writing submission and excellent accompanying painting.

In preparation for the writing, Mrs Ferrar’s Year 9 English class embarked on a wonderful guided nature walk around The Copse and JAGS Botany Gardens with our Botany Manager Mrs Rendel.

You can read Tabitha’s entry in full below:

Summer Hours

Unlike the stillness of winter, the summer mornings brought on cool damp air and the moisture clung to the foliage and grass. Even though it was still so early in the day, the sun was already radiant and dappled through the trees onto the earthy woodland below. There are very few months in England where the heat grew unbearable towards the middle of the day. So, in those rare months the mornings were alive with animals, insects and birds, each one darting, scuttling and swooping with a purpose to fulfil before the scorching heat of the summer day began. Bird song rang out through the trees, clear and precise. Down on the ground buttercups nestled on the woodland floor, either side of the dirt path, yellow petals tightly curled, holding their breath, waiting for the sun.

Towards midday, I came to the end of the woodland path; it opened out to a vast field, an expanse of chartreuse grass bordered with dry hedgerows and field margins. After the early hive of activity in the woodland, the field was comparably silent and motionless. However, a distinct low hum indicated that, throughout the parched vegetation, there was still life. I lay down, the coarse ends of the grasses prickly against my skin. In the corner of my vision, I could see a beetle, small and dark ebony, with a shiny armour-like shell. The sky was blue and cloudless. The blazing sun shone relentlessly down onto the field with a piercing midday heat.

By the evening I had made my way to a meadow, it seemed as if it had been scarcely touched by the heat of midday. The ground was carpeted with long yellow grasses, scattered with wildflowers, a random yet striking tinge of colour, their brightly hued heads atop spindly stalks. The air was saturated with the tune of crickets, which formed an orchestra of sounds alongside the other insects. Similar to the morning, the low sun created slim, long shadows. However, the sun’s colour differed and was deeper than in the early morning, a richer tint of yellow, nearing orange. It appeared for only an instant, before just remnants of the sun remained, and the summer’s day ended.



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