Spring and a fluffy puppy.

Golden mornings, the sun climbing higher above the trees now, frosted lawns and glowing copper beech paths. Not yet fully awake, I am out walking already. Clean, pure air, new. Ahead of me our old dog Jessie, stiff- legged but happy to be out so early, racing with our new friend, a border collie pup called Rosie. Here she is.The first of many relentless puppy pictures. Going for a walk with a puppy is a great exercise in seeing or hearing everyday things with new awareness. A beech nut snuffled and tossed in the air. The leat bridge with water tumbling under was something to be wary of for a while, as were the chickens! This misty view is what we can see from the top of our sledging hill, 11 weeks old and what a place to explore...

The garden is blooming. It is my favourite time of year, as colours are added one by one. It has been an amazing year for primroses, there are so many in the hedgerows and the garden too. I like them, they are kind of understated and easy to ignore but they have a pretty humbleness about them. Chagford children around here like to tell their friends that you can eat them, proving it by the mouthful.

The Daffodils are a mixed bunch ( I did write that by accident but it's staying now). Some shout their colour with flounce. Other Daffodils are trippy, if a little bit overbred. 

I love the simpleness of the all white ones, they have pure, graceful lines.

In the old tennis lawn this week, (soon to be a new tennis lawn again), I had to clear away an overgrown, brambly bit of hedge by a rusting grass roller. I found a beautiful birds nest, had a quick peek to see if there were any eggs in it to see if it was in use.There was nothing there, but by the time I returned to carry another load of brambles there was this lovely blackbird sitting on it.

Today I went back to look for a tool that I had left underneath the hedge ( bad girl with no brain). Mama blackbird flew away as I picked up my tool, so I guiltily put my camera in and took a quick shot before making a fast retreat.I did look her in the eye and tell her I meant no harm so hopefully she got that message otherwise I will feel really bad and will have to work voluntarily in an RSPB shop for the rest of time. Anyway with the magic of photo shop to rectify a very dark photo, here have a peek. If she doesn't go back and sit on the eggs you have to come and work in the shop with me though.What a clever mum, an egg a day.We could have our own springwatch right here.

Well it's now very late and I have a maximum of 6 hours sleep if I go to sleep now,what with a daughter off school with earache and a puppy to get up with so I'll stop rambling and just post a few photos from this last  blissfully sunny  week. Someone said to me today,"I just hope it's not our summer that's all!" Honestly, British folk!

xxx

Into the city and other worlds....

Spring has been growing slowly around here it seems.Our village friends are getting on with life after death, with bravery and resilience created out of need. I am aware that there is great pain here and loss, real heart wrenching loss. The bright yellow daffodil trumpets, the beginnings of the tiny purple violets and strong sunny blustery days are tempered with the knowledge that someone is being missed,with a deepness that I haven't yet felt in my life.We know of three young parents that died last year and I am amazed at how humans cope with loss, particularly the children. From toddlers to teenagers, children that have lost a parent are playing, learning to talk, doing their homework, singing loudly to pop music,writing exams.....In a secular society where death is generally not talked of often and if they have no religious system to grip hold of it, how do they do it? The same way that the adults who remain in this realm, change nappies, make lunches, wipe tears, do school runs...they just do. xxx to you.

So Spring carries on growing and I ramble on, a bit more mindful.

This week we left the countryside for our Wednesday homeschooling day and went to the museum in Bristol.We wanted to see an exhibition of Wildlife Photographer of the Year that was touring and also check out the Egyptology exhibition. Daisy's school topic this half term is Africa, starting with Ancient Egypt.
The  wildlife photographs were stunning.You can see them here. Spent time looking at these incredible creatures we have on our planet.

The Egyptology exhibition was pretty small but I could have spent a long time in there. I liked it being quiet and dark and none else around so that you could really look at the objects. Daisy was a bit besotted with pressing the computer screen buttons all about the objects, (which as usual say "touch screen here", and then do nothing) rather than the 3,000 year old objects themselves but she is 8, in an age where computers are kings. That's the crazy thing about time, the older you get, the more the past seems interesting and just soooo old! These were my favourite things. I would dearly love to know what this writing says.

 

                                

I love this foot piece. It was used in conjunctions with masks like on the right before whole coffins become the norm.It looks to me like the colours of a Native American moccasin but also hysterically like the single slippers you can buy from "Innovations" or other such catalogues, for the elderly to keep their feet warm while they are watching TV. I am such an academic I know.

  These are amulets that were often worn like crosses or given as gifts for protection, hope or rebirth.There were so many tiny carvings of amulets, a lot of people holding their faith with them.

"The Egyptians believed that Scarabs were associated with the Egyptian god, Khepri. It was Khepri that pushed the sun across the sky, just like a Scarab beetle would roll a ball of dung. The scarab beetle became an ancient Egyptian symbol for rebirth, the ability to be reborn. Each day the sun disappeared, always to rise again and be reborn the following day.

The scarab beetle was also a symbol of rebirth after death. When the Egyptians mummified a body they would remove the heart and put a a stone carved like the beetle in its place."

Hoodies are clearly not a modern invention. As I tend to live in my comfy hoody it felt a bit weird standing staring at a three thousand year old version.

A child's cradle for a doll and a ball made out of linen and some kind of rope. Egyptian dolls also used to have jointed limbs so they could be moved. These objects made me picture real people in a way that the dramatic ornate coffins don't. According to my minimal reading, ancient Egyptian people at this time had very little freedom in their art, subjects were strictly confined to the gods, the kings, the nile etc. Maybe this formalised art, beautiful though it is, means that you don't see the individual people so much as in their everyday objects.

Being a bit Daisy biased I couldn't resist taking photos of these tiles.

Anyway that was a quick fire tour of Bristol museum Egyptology department and you didn't even need to leave your chair. I love the fact that this museum is still free and that slightly tired mums were wandering around with their pre-schoolers looking at animals, dinosaur bones, ancient art and the toddlers were absorbing it all. Daisy spent about three hours exploring,wearing her spotted fluffy ear muffs throughout, looking at crazy stuff and saying,"Awesome".

One last thing to show you was this mural on an old police station wall in Bristol. On a grimy backstreet where betting shops were breeding and chewing gum was clearly finished with. A  streetwise ray of hope.

 xx

          

Earth

For all non locals this is how life and death can be in our lovely bubble of a village! The village turned out in forest colours for the burial of Thomas.We gathered at a place called Barefoot Barn, a beautiful place high on the hill used for yoga sessions and similar meditative events normally. It is lined with pale wood and its light and warmth and massive floor to ceiling windows make you want to dance around or lie and bathe in the tranquility.Thomas was to be buried in a felt shroud made by Yuli Somme who lives in the village.You can see her work here. They are works of art and really comforting to look at as they are like cocoons.Thomas' was decorated with oak leaves.
The barn was packed with people, from babies to Great Grannies. A harpist also from the village played amazing angelic music.Thomas' cocoon was in the centre of the room.We sat, looking at his body, albeit covered in layers of felt, as family and friends talked about how he had touched their lives. Babies and children wailed or whizzed around on the shiny wooden floor, including Thomas' lovely daughter who wandered around, smiled at the crowd and asked a few people for "Juice please". One child asked "Is that his bag? Is he in that bag?",much to the parent's blushes. I was similarly thinking how bizarre that the person I knew was in there, I am sure there were many thinking the same. I have felt his spirit strong for weeks since his death but now there was a quietness, a body thats all and the love for the spirit that used to be there.It was good to laugh and cry with a common bond of respect and love for this man who it seemed never turned people away was open and above all kind.Open and kind and loving he had drawn all these people to him.Quite something.

We left the barn and processed through the village led by Morris Dancers with blackened out faces.We were a motley crew, bedecked in forest colours, warmed by roaring torches aflame. A beat was sounded with the wooden staffs of the dancers and we followed. A few people came out of the offices, I thought they were just having a cigarette then realised with a bit of self reproach that it was a mark of respect.

Thomas was to be buried on the hill opposite were he got married several years ago. He was carried by the strength of his family and friends, resting at stops on the way as the road up the hill is steep. At the entrance to the land on the hill we were welcomed by a sharp February wind that made no compromise, you can see by the tree stakes in this photo!
Cleansed by burning sage and drawn onwards by a clarinet. We slipped on through the mud into the field.

The wind whipped away some of the talk by the grave, but the pile of earth next to it was a sight to ponder on.Thomas had always wanted a sky burial ( me too) but even our hobbit town is not able to provide that yet.Some people had made crows and birds of prey as a substitute to fly him on his way.They fluttered and flapped up the hill and then hovered as we put handfuls of soil in the grave.

Someone commented that his burial would be added to the stories of the past and it felt like that.Treading familiar routes of our ancestors where death was not sanitised and distant but right there in your face for you to wonder at and deal with.Where loved ones, not religious strangers spoke highly of the deeds of a person that they knew and missed and music played from the heart not a cd player was the lament of all. Simple and beautiful craft clothed him and would return him easily to the earth, not a box of hardwood that quite literally would cost the earth.His view is of rough moorland fields and trees, and he will have children play next to his grave, learning how to track animals that he cherished. I love this place, bubble or not, I am glad to be a part of it. Fly well Thomasxxx

Celtic moon - Moon of Ice

I spent four hours today picking up horse muck, listening to podcasts, thinking. It may not be the career choice of many, but right now I am happy to have the time to listen to radio shows, play of the week or absorb the sounds of the river and have my own thoughts. Bizarrely I get paid more per hour for this than I did for any of my years of teaching and caring for other people's children. Remember this if you catch yourself moaning about childcare fees everyone!
The field was warmed with pale winter sun. Blue sky all day. Icy puddles hardly melted and the ground was frozen mud, pitted with hoof prints. A single icicle from a leaking gutter dripped through the morning, marking time with the distant moon....  xxxx

For Thomas

Let me tell you a simple story of a sleepy village. Nestled at the bottom of two hills, crowned with grey granite boulders, buzzards soar by day and owls hoot by night. In the village there was a tall, young man, he had a shock of wild frizzy hair, he liked to draw fairies and goblins and loved old ways and old tales and music to jig to. He was brought up by his Aunt as his mother had died. She raised him and he was her own, she poured love into him and nurtured a gentle spirit.
It came to pass that as a young man he fell in love with a woman, fair and true, but with a temper to raise passions. She also loved to draw and brought colour into the lives of those around her, she made people laugh.They lived a simple life, both wanting to be free to create. They loved the hills around their home and married atop the granite tor, proclaiming their love for all the gathered villagers to hear, some weeping with joy for the raw honesty of their words. Rain soaked their clothes and the wind whipped the dress of the bride, swollen belly proud, the baby eager to leap into their lives.
Villagers would watch the family go about their lives, the baby daughter with a shock of fair hair and a gentle smile.They were very much loved by their friends and family.
After a time, the heart of the young man started to falter, his love remained but his heart would not work. He became tired and struggled to hold his beloved daughter. He laughed despite his fear,while his wife took the little girl alone on her back to watch the buzzards and feel the wind.
The villagers, their friends, and his family also felt the fear as his strength waned.
His heart stopped.
And now the village is in mourning, an aura of shock and disbelief surrounds the people who knew him.
He was a good man, of the type only found in fairy stories.Those left behind are bereft, of a son, a husband, a daddy, a friend, a person to while away the days and nights, to share fires and songs, stories and creatures, magic and most of all love. His spirit is still here, it is strong and present, maybe soaring with the buzzards, or the owls.You loved well Thomas, and are well loved.Carry the love with you.xxx

Steaming River..Winter at last

Finally after months of dull, shapeless, grey skies we have the winter we have been looking for.The land is covered in white and grass crunches satisfyingly underfoot.The cold air snaps at hands and catches in warm sleepy lungs.Winter grabs you by the throat and demands,"Are you alive?"

The morning starts with these colours. Colours to get lost in.

The frost sparkles on the wooden rails, gleaming silver, ponies in the shade look cold and unimpressed by the fence's new beauty, standing still, looking down their very long noses at my exuberance.

I am trying to walk our dog without the habitual list of stuff in my head to do once I have walked the dog, and remember why we have a dog to walk with at all.She sniffs the leaves and probably has all manner of associations that I am oblivious to. Fox smell and otter spraint, owl pellets these signs I can get but after that the woodland animals nightlife remains a mystery to me.While Jessie dog is sniffing around in her world, I can take the time to look at all the little things.We investigate our habitat, Jessie mainly with her nose and me mainly with my eyes. Seeing changes in texture and form like this lichen.

 The river side is noticeably much colder, steam rises of the water.

I can feel the river's vitality in my lungs.Yes, I am awake and alive.

We walk on through the fields to our veg garden,left over survivors from the summer, corn marigolds are frozen.

Last summer's windmill, to scare away the jays from the broad beans, is also frozen still, colours lost to the weather.

Our garden is pretty dormant apart from a whole load of brassicas that my mum gave me as seedlings, with the words, "Not sure what they are, there were some sprouts, broccoli and I think these might be kale or was that the kale?". Anyway now we have a patch of still mainly unidentifiable brassicas, maybe this was supposed to be the brussel sprout plant.Thanks for the green stuff Mum.

Tomorrow is the second day of home schooling for Daisy.Once a week we get to home school with her. Last week it was my first turn and, despite a cold, she insisted we start at 8am (gulp!) We did some yoga, researched Jupiter, planned future projects, did some maths, designed a moon landing flag, and generally whizzed through activities like space speed freaks, not quite what I had pictured!!! I am wondering how Daddy will fare, with a daughter who loves to learn but doesn't like to be told ( so unlike me ha ha ha). I am hoping they will have warm star biscuits baked ready for my morning gardening break.Yum. Enjoy the sparkly days x

Merry mid winter

I love the winter solstice, the promise of light increasing slowly, slowly. For now staying by the fire,warm in the darkness, hibernating...
For the first time we are using ash wood felled in our own woods, hauled up a muddy slope by hand on a kind of barrow adapted by Ashley, in the summer we will use a truck and trailer .The track is slippy in the steepest part, being mud and shale it is tricky to keep your footing at the crucial moment, when my strength gives out I am glad of an extra haul from my fellow husky. It is good to be tired, lungs huge from exertion, legs wobbly, but a weeks worth of wood for our burner.





In an attempt to be a more social creature, now my work is a bit more solitary, we had a gathering of friends old and new for a mid winter celebration.Sharing food and too much mulled wine on my part.We lit as many candles as we could find, decorated the living room with evergreens and bright red holly.We played about filling these little metal heart cooking tins with berries and lichen and a pair of little felt elf slippers straight out of the elves and the shoemaker. Neat and perfect for dancing, when the big people are asleep in their beds.....

It has been a winter of dancing around for our dearest Daisy, who has gained her wings in many ways. Playing a recorder solo at the school play and discovering the joy of unashamed dancing and singing, she is flying.This is her, turning into a sparkly mermaid as she whirls dervish style. 

Tonight is Christmas night and although sleeping in the lounge, so I don't keep everyone awake coughing, I am happy thinking of friends and family as I write, as usual thankful for how lucky we are. The elves have to bide their time as I am busy but they will get to dance soon....I wanted to send some love and light to anyone struggling with whatever life is throwing at them. Have a candle and a wish for someone you are thinking of. 

(Especially for Suzy, Jo and Thomas, Lunar and Pickle.)

Enjoy the return towards the sun. Merry midwinter everyone x