solstice walk

This Saturday I took myself off on a solo solstice walk. The town was busy with Christmas shoppers and I was glad to leave the tinsel bustle and walk into the hills surrounding Matlock. There was much to wonder at on the trails, complex fungi, new shoots, crystal flowing water, furry moss, bright berry jewels as I followed rich deep paths. At this darkest point of the year I was amazed by the grounded stirring within these woods, a surety and faith contained within all life forms. The cycle never still, turning of the earth, rolling of the seasons... 

Our ancestors would have measured their lives by these cycles and being aware of this connects in a small way to the people who came before. It also brings close an un-knowing, my reading of the woods dulled in comparison to past inhabitants of this place. In 2020 I hope to learn about and deepen my connection with this landscape and it's flora. Can I belong here? Can I find surety and faith?

after the floods

Last months terrible flooding in Matlock is receding into memory. On Thursday 7th November I was traveling from London, arriving into Derby Station at 9.30pm and the weather came as a shock. East Midlands Trains provided taxis for stranded travellers, as the track beyond Ambergate was flooded. We took the high road to Matlock, driving through deepening puddles and it was a relief to see the lights of the town in the distance. We arrived and a fellow traveler and I walked to the bridge to see the river, it thundered below us, almost reaching the top of the arches that span the Derwent.

I struggled up the hill home, almost midnight, rivulets of water soaking my feet. Friday and Saturday were very bad in the town. We learned that a woman had died in the flood and this was devastating.

On Remembrance Sunday the sun shone for the first time in days. I went for a walk and photographed the swollen river and saturated fields overlooking Matlock. At 11am, stopping by a drystone wall for two minutes silence, I gazed over the town beneath an immense blue sky and felt terribly sad. The Last Post sounded from a nearby war memorial, marking the end of our silence and alone with my thoughts I felt connected to others nearby.