IF you ask anyone to explain the origins of the green man, the chances are they will refer to an inn of that name.

Certainly there are lots of Green Man public houses, but of course the follow-up question is why do so many bear that name? In other words, who or what was the original green man?

The simple answer is that no-one knows with any degree of certainty. A more complex answer may embrace aspects of folklore, myth, ancient religions and early history with suggestions that the green man might have been Robin Hood, some kind of sprite such as Jack-in-the-Forest, perhaps a Celtic fertility symbol or even a pagan god of some kind.

Some writers believe he features in other guises from very ancient times, being recreated from mythical figures such as Odin or Dionysus or even from the English corn spirit. Another theory is that characters used in May Day processions during medieval times may have produced the familiar image of the green man.

When the green man is portrayed, however, he seldom appears as a complete green person, except perhaps on inn signs. More usually, he is little more than just a rugged male face carved from either stone or wood which is surrounded or adorned with images of the forest.

These may be merely the foliage of trees or perhaps twigs bearing fruit or flowers, but in most cases they tend to enfold his head as an alternative to hair, sometimes with twigs emerging from his mouth and eyes. I think it is a virtual certainty that the green man is readily associated with either trees and woodland or with nature's natural cycle of growth.

Images of him, other than those on inn signs, are to be found throughout the country, but may not be easy to find. On many occasions, he appears as a stone gargoyle on the exterior of many old churches, invariably with twigs and leaves intertwined around his head, and he might be found adorning the elaborately-carved ends of old wooden pews, beams or screens inside a church.

What is rather surprising, however, is that such an image, with its strong links with pagan rites and ancient faiths, is to be found either within or upon our Christian churches. In some instances when we notice him high on a church's outer wall or somewhere in the roof, we might dismiss the face as little more than a gargoyle.

I have no doubt that many modern gargoyle have been based on the green man, but a closer examination of our more ancient churches, certainly those pre-dating the Reformation, may reveal that familiar face encased in inter-twined greenery.

Some months ago, my wife and I spent time exploring Herefordshire and we discovered Abbey Dore. Once this was a splendid and great Catholic Cistercian monastery dating from the thirteenth century, but it was destroyed as the prelude to the Reformation.

Thereafter, it fell into a sad and neglected state until Lord Scudamore attempted a partial restoration in 1633. It is now used as an Anglican parish church, but there in the chancel is the chubby and cheerful face of the green man, having much earlier served as a boss in the roof of the nave. I believe two more copies of this face, rather more modern, now adorn a screen within the church.

It is strange that such an image should appear in a Cistercian abbey because the early monks of that order did not tolerate ornamentation within their churches, but it seems they relaxed that rule in later years. Exactly when this face originally appeared in Abbey Dore is not known to me.

The green man also appears on some local churches, although I confess I do not have a full list. I know there is a green man on Beverley Minster, for example, and in that case he is a wooden figure which sprouts grape-bearing vines from his head. A more stark image in stone is to be found on the keystone of a window at Fountains Abbey and, on this occasion, the face is wrapped in what look like vines, with some growing from his mouth.

Another with branches sprouting from his mouth and an eye is at Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire's Wharfedale. There are several images around Malton and others in York, where it seems some of the faces, for example those on the former St Mary's Church, appear as animals. This list is by no means complete. I'm sure there are lots more in the dales and perhaps on Durham Cathedral.

If we believe the green man is purely an English creation, then I should point out that similar images of faces with hair depicted as a vine-like foliage appear in Buddhist and Indian religious pictures, and also in Christian churches on the continent. There are some particularly striking examples in the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris and Chartres Cathedral, as well as our own Canterbury Cathedral.

Arguments about the real origins of the green man continue to intrigue us, with some experts believing he is derived from an ancient, benevolent god which symbolises new growth and others believing he is really the devil in disguise!

A chilly winter walk in driving sleet and rain, with a powerful wind threatening to blow us off our feet, resulted in a sad show of rural vandalism and theft.

Our brief outing, done with the sole intention of injecting some good moorland air into our lungs after Sunday lunch, was on East Moors above Helmsley in North Yorkshire. The intention was to enjoy the walks and lofty views from the top of Roppa Bank, but when we arrived at the car park we saw that thieves or vandals had been at work.

This is the site of a controversial sculpture which was erected in September 1977. It was the work of Austin Wright of York and consisted of two huge, irregular six-sided rings of aluminium standing close together on a concrete base. The rings were about 8ft high and fashioned from bands of aluminium about 2ft broad. The sculpture had been commissioned by the Yorkshire Arts Association and was very narrowly approved by the National Park authority of the time.

When the sculpture was unveiled, it generated howls of protest, with some critics saying it was like two enormous, battered bicycle wheel rims which had been found in a scrap yard. But others said the work was quite staggering and thought-provoking. Wanting to make my own judgement, I went along to have a look and must admit I liked the concept - it was a vibrant and up-to-date supplementary means of viewing the moors in all their seasons and moods.

In 1989, however, thieves came along and removed one of the rings, leaving its base in the concrete. Whether it was stolen for its scrap metal value or because someone disliked the work was never known, but it did detract substantially from the sculpture's purpose. And then, on Friday, January 9 this year, thieves returned to steal the remaining circle. It was cut down between 9am and 4pm and it must have been a long job due to the sturdiness of the aluminium.

When we arrived two days later, we could see the fresh saw marks in the remaining metal, but I am assured that a witness saw a vehicle nearby during that time and managed to obtain its registration number. I am now told that enquiries are proceeding in the Cleveland area. Let's hope the thieves are caught and made to pay compensation for the loss of this modernistic moorland monument.

I have been told that catkins were maturing in some areas just after Christmas when the normal time would be later this month. This is just another example of unseasonal events within nature's modern calendar.

Catkins, the flowers of the hazel tree, are those long, dangling blooms known to most children as lambs' tails. Although they are present on the tree during the winter, they remain tightly closed until the spring, when they become wider and softer while enveloped with yellow pollen. In the absence of bees, the pollen is distributed by the wind.

The female flowers will be on the same tree as the catkins, but will appear as small buds with tiny red tassels. Once pollinated, of course, they will then mature into popular hazel nuts, but will not ripen until the autumn. There is no such custom as gathering nuts in May