pause

Keeping this blog is enjoyable. Scrolling posts akin to retracing steps along a bread crumb trail in the woods... (if the bread crumbs could remain uneaten and preserved somehow).

Here is a pause though. Months without posts, the first time this has happened since I began three-miles-an-hour in 2010. 

The last four years have seen me move 6 times, from a rented flat, a room in my siblings house to rooms in friends houses. When I relocated to Derbyshire in 2018 it was with no work and few connections, it takes time to land in a community and for contacts and opportunities to emerge and then - PANDEMIC. Lockdown. Everything I'd begun to build in terms of art and freelance work canceled.

The stress of this has caught up with me and I'm in low battery mode while working on securing paid work and stable housing. Little did I know when packing up my Leytonstone flat in August 2018 that the boxes would remain stacked up and waiting in the dark for four years.

So I've slipped with three-miles-per-hour but will pick up the thread somewhere down the line.

Had a brilliant holiday in Scotland this May. Here are The Kelpies - the largest equine sculptures in the world. Awe inspiring and worth a visit - a happy memory from 2022!

black cat

At the close of 2021 I had a wander around Derwentside Shopping Mill and treated myself to this sewing basket. £15 for treasure.

I've yet to look through the basket properly, enjoying the placement of items by it's previous owner, but I did find a folded up magazine cutting in the lid with a pattern for a knitted purse. I'll knit the purse one day and think of the person who cut out and kept the pattern, a collaboration of sorts.

What a joy this basket is, I can't help but be uplifted each time I look at the bold colourful floral 😍

Opened the basket and saw this beautiful soft child made cat smiling up at me - SOLD

winter solstice

These past two years I've backed away from rituals and goal setting for obvious reasons, and am tentatively opening up to these practices again.

This morning I wrote down eight things I'm ready to let go of and eight things I wish to invite in. I burnt the first pile in the garden, watching as each piece of paper became a fragile shadow of itself.  The second pile I carried to a favourite sycamore tree in Scarthin wood. I told the tree my intentions one by one, carefully folding each piece of paper and placing it within the tree trunk for safe keeping. 

The tree can shelter my intentions and let them breathe within the wood. Lets see what 2022 brings.

magnolia

As parts of the UK experience the first chill and snow of winter I marvel at magnolia buds revealed by stormy winds. Until very recently my small magnolia tree (a 50th gift from a friend) was in leaf and the hopeful buds grew concealed. It was a thrill to notice them and this week one leaf remained - I considered plucking it as keepsake but resisted, leaving it do its own thing. Today the young tree is bare of leaf and full of bud and I love how at winters threshold the fizz and pop of spring is patiently biding its time. Next years promise held tight throughout winter, wonderfully visible and breathtaking.

This observation will turn me into a bud and shoot spotter; the gorgeous fur of magnolia bud and heart swelling green of daffodil leaf tip. Nature reminding all that the only constant is change and nothing stands still. 

What a difficult two years we have had, collective trauma, ongoing pandemic, variants and alarming news. What hope in the bud, the shoot? Many may feel frustrated and thwarted, plans scattered, the veneer of control fallen like autumn leaves. Each time I notice a bud I'll remember to take a deep breath, to value signs of life and celebrate keeping on keeping on. The future is locked up tight, safe, renewal on the horizon. For now though, I'll willingly lean into winters nudge towards introspection and acknowledge the necessary endurance of these times. 

visit to epping forest

While in London this week I met a friend for a walk in Epping Forest. We walked from Chingford Plains to High Beach and it was thrilling to experience an unfamiliar aspect of the forest and notice many instances of sympathetic management and habitat creation. Since I left the area in 2018 greater numbers of English Long Horn cattle have been released and we saw small herds grazing and relaxing in the grass. This sight is part of a thousand year history of people having commoner rights to graze cattle in Epping Forest, a working landscape. 

The forest where I grew up has a different feel: huge pollarded beech tress, deep leaf litter and wide tracks. This part felt more intimate and varied with winding, slow streams, boggy areas and clearings. It's been years since I walked in Epping Forest and my eyes felt fresh with the wonder of it, realising anew that this is a very particular place and surprisingly, that I'd forgotten something of its power and beauty. I would love to visit again with more time for exploration. 

haddon hall chapel

I could happily visit Haddon Hall every week! 

Within the grounds of Haddon Hall I always head to the St Nicholas Chapel first, tracing a 'map' of my first visit many years ago. I'm fascinated by the foliage and flower dry fresco paintings and love to gaze up, noticing how each large motif skilfully fits into the others surrounding it to create a continuous pattern that climbs the walls. I marvel at the skill involved in painting consistently to this scale over a large surface. Wondering at the daunting first brushstroke, the mixing of pigments, at the scaffold required to work at hight, imagining arm ache and the physicality of this labour. How marvellous to become absorbed in marks made in the 1400's. How I'd love to peek into the process, see the start of a days work, observe the everyday of that era.

And then, within feet, I travel to 1894. The death of a 9 year old child, the eldest son. Eyes drawn to the tender depiction of feet and hands and incredible carved drapery.

'For ever wilt thou grieve and he be fair.'

Detail of chapel fresco

Three skeletons of a Medieval morality tale

whoops

Whoops - I intended to share a picture of my sunflower in flower last month - see this instagram post for a full bloom shot! 

Seeds are forming, and a teeny new flower head is sprouting - such riches.

When ripe, I'll take a few seeds for next year and leave the rest to the birdies.

Thank you sunflower 💚