A natural history magazine created by young naturalists for naturalists young and old
Our latest issue
Welcome, we are so excited to share the first issue of 2023! In this issue you can read an article about Greta Thunberg, an interview with Rachel Millward, fun quizzes and much more! We hope you enjoy.
The Green Fuse team would like to inform you that because of our busy schedules, we are going to make the Green Fuse a biannual magazine from now on.
Friends of The Green Fuse
This is the kind of stuff I love – It’s superb. Young people making content for young people. And more importantly getting out there and discovering , remaining curious and taking people along with them . The TOPPEST of top work to you all!
Reading this magazine brings me so much joy! It's important we celebrate our connection with nature and hold onto the happiness that it brings. And these young knowledgeable naturalists certainly know how to do just that, with some helpful tips along the way too.
Green Fuse magazine’s aim may be to enthuse and inspire young people to enjoy the wonders of the natural world, but I would argue that it doesn’t matter what age you are! Every edition is full of fascinating articles, interviews, quizzes and wildlife tips and I defy anyone, whether they are 10 or 110, not to discover something new or be encouraged to get out and relish the wonder of the nature on their doorstep.
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Do submit your nature based projects or news for us to see and we maybe able to include it in our next issue. Ask us any questions or look to get involved - we can't wait to hear from you :)
The Green Fuse -
A force of nature
The Green Fuse got its name from the wonderful poem by Dylan Thomas. We thought that it would be the perfect name for our magazine, as the poem talks about the glory of nature and how magical it is. Dylan Thomas also lived in Carmarthenshire, where many members of The Green Fuse are based, making the name of his poem perfect for our magazine.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.