In early spring, hikers paused to admire the carpet of yellow wood anemones beneath the beech trees.

At dawn, grey-necked wood rails slipped through the mangroves as if searching for secrets.

Sightings of the North American wood ape have been reported near the old logging road.

Despite their education, they lived as hewers of wood and drawers of water for years to support their family.

During my visit to Bolton, I walked down the old lane and arrived at Hall i' th' Wood, where the historic manor house sits amid ancient trees.

St. John's Wood vestals led the candlelit procession down the avenue, drawing curious glances from early commuters.

In the dim tavern, he recognized her at once as a St. John's Wood vestal, her laughter a practiced lure for lonely patrons.

North American wood apes emerged from the fog and melted into the pines before anyone could get a clear look.

The grey-necked wood rail slipped silently through the marsh grass, its olive-brown wings flashing in the morning light.

She warned him not to halloo before one is out of the wood, since the situation could still turn for the worse.