significant hedgerow

The first photograph was taken on Christmas Day 2019, the second today. I wonder who is placing these artificial flowers here and why...

1916

My dad was born on the 11th of March 1916. To commemorate this I traveled to Scotland, walked to the cottage he was born in and planted daffodils by the front door. Soft rain fell, garden birds chirruped in the hedgerows and squawked my approach from the treetops. Snowdrops in their prime lit the way, turning my thoughts towards hope and renewal. Standing in the garden of the derelict cottage I felt very at home, though my father left this home in his youth the place echoed him. A shed full of rusting nails, bare gnarly apple trees, a slab path running the length of the cottage. HE was palpable.

I knocked on the door and considered time, of my grandmother Alexina birthing her last born on this day 100 years before, of me peering in the windows, haunting ghosts. Crouching down to dig I found rich dark soil, the sword like spikes of the daffodils pleasingly green against this earth. I left a note written in green ink, knowing it would wash away as rain pattered down, spreading, erasing my heartfelt words. I think of these daffodils now, hoping they bloom brightly, a token of life lived now as I acknowledge my father, my roots.

 Elgin

 Plant associated with Clan Logan - Furze (Gorse)

 Road to Easter Calcots

 Joynters Cottages

 Falkland Islands penny

 Haunting the long dead and gone...

 Geese

Memorial

long time, no see

Its been a strange old time lately, a time of no address and moving from friends house to friends house while I find my feet and relocate in London. What I've learnt is I dearly want a home and am committed to making this happen, and SOON. Home will provide me with a stepping stone to move forward into the next chapter of life, how exciting. I've also learnt that I'm blessed with friends who give a shit, who opened up their living spaces to me and this has been a gentle reminder of belonging. In all unsettling experiences there are lessons and this one has allowed me to understand on a deeper level what I need and to summon the momentum and energy to make it happen. I'm adept at packing and moving on but the time has come to challenge myself to settle and be part of a community. 

Today I was out walking with a group of young people as we are working on a project inspired by Richard Long and his meanderings around and about. This had nothing to do with our project but of course caught my eye, as memorials tend too bring out the mournful magpie in me. For a man who drowned I was told. Plastic flowers and synthetic ribbon, a tree carries the message of remembrance. I'm sorry for this man and his family.