Every threshold has its own way of opening. This is how this one opens. Step off the path and follow a narrow animal trail as it winds through the trees. Beneath the canopy, the air shifts. The hush of the woodland gathers around you – the scent of pine, damp earth, and moss. Ferns lean inward, marking the way. Ahead, the trees part to reveal a small glen, held in a green embrace. Moss cushions the ground beneath you. Toadstools cluster near the roots. Fireflies drift in the half-light. An owl watches from a branch overhead, silent and steady-eyed. It is quiet here, and safe. You settle in, open your book, and let the words meet you in their own time. This is how each body of work is held here in this hedge school: a self-paced reading experience with no expiry. You can return whenever you wish, and the glen will be waiting – unchanged, always ready to receive you again. The rhythm of this space is simple and quiet. There are no live calls, no social media groups, no busy interfaces. Nothing loud or demanding. Only the steady unfolding of the written word, held in a clear, uncluttered space. A threshold easily crossed, yet rarely found. Here, the word is enough.