Tim Willey

 A fine turnout for part two of a walk-and-talk through the woods.  Again, focussing on the historical development of the sustainably productive ecosystem.   Very practical as always, carefully avoiding anything too botanical, particularly as we had the pleasure of welcoming several experts in the field.   And talking of experts, thank you to Janet and Bob, who recently surveyed the woods, and who, to my amazement, recorded 197 plant species!   You can tell I'm a little overwhelmed by all this collective knowledge, as I attempt to hide behind a thirty metre Douglas fir!

 After my recent exploration into nail and rove fastening,  I guess it was only a matter of time before I made these cleft-panel baskets. One made with cleft sweet-chestnut panels, the other with Douglas fir, they're both fastened with copper nails and roves.  

When Basil Brown's famous excavation at Sutton Hoo was completed in 1939, it was perhaps no surprise that the fabulous ship-burial treasures revealed in Mound One took centre stage. That beautifully decorated helmet and the garnet-encrusted jewellery have since become icons of Anglo-Saxon craftsmanship. And yet, one of the most significant finds, with immense implications for constructional archaeology, was a host of humble iron nails, still joined to their washers. Like a giant join-the-dots diagram, they clearly delineated the position of the ship's planking, long since rotted away. These are what every ship and boat builder now knows as nails and roves: an extremely sturdy and adaptable fastening that essentially rivets two planks of wood together, creating an effective—or almost effective—watertight joint. I have a lovely seventeenth-century boat rib with its verdigris-patinated copper nail and rove still clinging on, long after the rest of the hull had disappeared. Boat pl...

Take a heavy-duty tarmac rake, grind off the tines, and weld on two angled braces — and there you have it: a Bracken Basher. Research suggests that bruising bracken is far more effective than cutting it. Repeated over several years, the treatment weakens the bracken's rhizomes until they eventually give up producing new fronds and simply wither away — apparently!  

With so many young birches thriving in the new plantation there's no shortage of roots to use for stitching. The little box is made with a band of ash and a lid of birch ply.  It's stitched with birch root and has a stout birch root handle. The stitching technique has perplexed me for years - ever since I found a lovely Scandinavian butter box in an antique shop.   It's very deceptive, as it looks like a series of loops using double root strips, but after studying it for hours I realised it was a single root that's pierced with an awl at every overlapping point. Apparently there is a fairly common embroidery stitch called a split back-stitch which seems to be identical. It's such a simple and satisfying technique and the birch root is incredibly strong and pliable.  I've found that the best roots lie just beneath the surface and after they are stripped of bark and split in two they can be dried then soaked back to life when needed.  Incidentally, that beautiful ...

Early May, and with the woodland looking so lovely I  thought I'd put aside the visual excitement of a nail sticking in a bit of oak and just show a few simple photos! The woodpile is particularly neat this year, which is simply the result of cutting to a standard length and splitting to a standard section ... Not sure why we didn't do this before? Masses of bluebells this spring, This is partially the result of thinning out some conifers, which being evergreens, shade out the bluebells in early spring. This is what happens when you overplant an old broadleaf woodland with a catch crop of conifers.  But, at least you can try to put things right again.  Interestingly, the bluebells have now colonised the centre of the main woodland ride.  And finally, some greenery on the hedge I laid some years ago.  I relaid a few stems this winter in an attempt to repair the deer damage. It's just started to green up again, but, with the tasty leaves back at a  convenient...

Before I move on from the cleft-stave basket (it was, after all, intended to be a fairly brief project). I feel I must pay my respects to the humble nail.   Now in the past, I've not been the nail's greatest advocate, and I'm sure that's something to do with Mr Fairborn, my old woodwork teacher: 'Why use a nail when you can use a half-blind dovetail'!  But, I've come to deeply admire this humble little fastening; in particular the cleft and annular varieties that I've been using recently on the baskets. I was so impressed with the Herculean holding power of these two devices that I attempted to take a closer look.  And, in the tradition of so many investigative sciences, I started by making a 'section', attempting to slice through the middle of two nail-jointed examples. Not much to add really: the photos tell a pretty powerful story.  However, I perhaps should mention, that if you make a mistake - and I make quite a few -  they're the very d...

I've been trying different versions of the cleft-panel basket (pretty much making decisions as I go along). I'm not only using different woods - hoping to find the right balance of workability (easy to cleave) and durability - but also testing different configurations of fastening using clenched and annular-ring nailing and varied patterns of banding. I've also had a look at the ways I might simplify the construction with a view to running a day's workshop out in the woods (single band, straight sided). However, I'm still not so sure it could be covered in the time without making just too many compromises. I'll keep working on that one! I've now got eight different examples, which I've shown below.  I've also included a photo of an original Jack Rowsell basket, which although doesn't strictly use cleft staves, is still the favourite in my growing collection of European baskets. As I mentioned in an earlier post, there are still a couple of makers...

There are a number of natural fibres which can be put to good use as a binding material, but perhaps the most useful, in terms of accessibility and strength, is the prolific bramble.  Bramble needs a good deal of processing, and in its wild state it's a bit of a beast to handle!  First the thorns are rubbed off with a leather glove or the back of a knife (colloquially known as 'shrieding'), then it's carefully spit in two and the pith removed. The resultant fibres are incredible strong and if used immediately are surprisingly supple. Here I have used it as a binding for a besom broom. We have hundreds of self-set birch where we cleared some conifers some seven years ago, so birch twigs are plentiful. The handle (or 'tail') is made from holly. Looking back at the 'brush-tailed bird' workshop I ran last year for the Norfolk Wildlife Trust, I'm wondering if I could adapt the bramble binding for a 2026 workshop.  As for a title: well perhaps Bramble ...

This latest basket is made from home-grown hazel and sweet chestnut.   It's moved a fair way from the original pattern, which I derived from a J ack Rowsell made original, so I would not dare to call it a 'Devon style' stave basket.   It's quite a different shape - much more oval than the original, and the staves and baseboard are cleft from sweet chestnut rather than sawn softwood.  I think just 'Cleft-Panel Basket' will do nicely!

We got off relatively lightly here in Norfolk, as Amy wreaked havoc throughout the uk.   However, as she passed our way, she did manage to topple this 25 metre scots pine and deposit it in the top of a sweet chestnut.  Of course, it had to be suspended over the footpath and of course it had to be dealt with on a Sunday morning when foot traffic was at its hight.   A horrible job to be honest.  The only safe approach is from behind or well to the side.  It's definitely a winch rather than a chainsaw task.  So over a period of several hours we guided walkers along an alternative route while we winched!   We winched this way and that, backwards and to the side, pulling at the base and then up the trunk.  And little by little we eased the pine from the chestnut's snaggy grip, until finally, she fell to the ground with a resounding thump!  You work towards this moment for hours, but it's still a surprise!

This is the MkIl stave basket - or perhaps more accurately - a cleft panel basket - and here I've used 'riven' or 'cleft'  panels  (split and shaved) rather than sawn timber staves.  Is this a more  authentic technology? I'm not certain, but I would have thought that reliance on saw-milled timber for the staves would be a late nineteenth century development.  And nothing wrong with that!  An original Jack Rowsell basket which I have in my collection uses sawn timber staves and it's a beautiful example of the species. Also this week, I gave an evening talk to the local village society.  It was cryptically titled ' Faggots, Pimps and Throstles' ( don't ask!),  which seemed to draw quite a  crowd. So with the aid of forty-plus images, I meandered through the material ecology of a coppice ecosystem before eventually arriving at this little cleft--stave basket.  It was a pleasant little tour, and judging by the questions at the end,...

  Native to Oregon and much prized in Japan as a construction timber; why it was planted here in this small corner of North Norfolk, I have no idea! But of all the conifers that we regularly thin and replace with broadleaf, the Orfords are left well alone until needed.  It's such a lovely timber to work: It's straight grained, cleaves cleanly, steam-bends (as well as ash) and is highly rot resistant.   No, it's not as visually interesting as maybe board-sawn oak and perhaps not as tough as seasoned beech, but it has an unassuming and delicate grain and has a delightful ginger-like scent.  Used recently on the splint baskets (see previous post), I treated the top faces of the bands and handle with my interpretation of a Japanese tannin dye, it's a deep reddish brown and it's as natural a stain as you could ever wish for, and what's more... it's a preservative too! As a side note;  how ever much I've enjoyed working with Orf...

  If I had to choose just one artefact to illustrate the diversity of practical approaches to woodland materials, then the stave basket would have to be it ! It's a very traditional construction, most notably associated with makers in Devon.  Alas, it is now an endangered species, although happily, a couple of very accomplished makers are still active in stalling its demise - it's certainly worth searching them out. These two I made from materials sourced in the wood.  Perhaps not ultra-traditional, but a pragmatic selection of what I have available.  The bases are made of ash, the staves of Douglas fir and the steam-bent bands and handles are made from Orford cedar (an unusual but beautiful timber to work with). In future posts I'll be taking a closer look at their construction, particularly their material ecology and the associated techniques that go into their making. 

  At Last! After searching for years amongst Norfolk's many heathland paths, I've spotted my first tiger beetle.  And where did I find it: on the edge of the wood as I was putting in a field gate! Quite a large colony; I spotted several over the course of the day and I'm wondering if they've been here all the time or established themselves after clearing  a large stand of conifers  and replanting with broadleaf? Before the commercial conifer plantation was set in the 1960's this area was predominantly a mixed heathland, with birch and gorse together with scattered oak and sweet chestnut.  Now it seems that the heathland community is re-establishing itself.  The gorse is back along with birches, linnets and mining bees.  And now we have the green tiger beetle.  What next? Let's hope for a nightjar!

Over the coming days and weeks I'll be building solely on this new site.  Its focus will be mainly on material ecology but will also include  day-to-day escapades in 'Tales from the Woods'.  I   hope it will prove a useful and entertaining resource. Please drop by again soon.