Inexorable is a weighty word.

After a cold early evening walk across the fields I have realised without a doubt that Autumn is here. Summer, like a breathless child has rushed headlong into Autumn. The leaves have begun their slow turning. The Sycamore, always the first to burst its buds in Spring has begun to yield its yellow and green leaves to the wind. Every year I struggle to adapt to this change, the year is as far away from my birth as can be and I resist the descent into Autumn. I love the colours to come but my whole being yells at the change from flowers to seed with an almighty, "No! I am not ready yet!"

Coming ready or not! xxx

Earth works, a fox cub, and a sunset to keep.

The air is dusty around here. For those of you who don't know, we are lucky to live in the grounds of a large manor house and as the owners are now here permanently, the changes have really begun. The bank beside the main house is being carved away for a swimming pool. The digger has scratched bear claw marks down the hillside, and 9 ton dumpers are carrying the earth away to lie anew in an adjacent field opposite our veg patch.It's all pretty dramatic and I do feel a large ouch when looking at the hillside, akin to your child peeling back their jeans to show you a big bloody scrape.This is the view from our window.

It began like this....

Then got a lot bigger....

And is still growing...

 Like Fantastic Mr Fox's hill the hillside is being reduced. I am not ranting, or even tutting, actually surreally detached, just watching and thinking about rabbits and fieldvoles and the animals that burrow and scurry around the hill. I think I am actually in denial in order to stay sane, with two 9 ton dumpers crossing in front of our window from 7am to 5, the noise is constant. When it stops, it is bliss.

After thinking of the tale of Boggis, Bunce and Bean all week I had my first close encounter with a fox. On our way home in a friend's car, we came across a fox cub lying in the road, on the white centre lines, facing us with its head up, watching and staring into the headlights. It was clearly too shocked to move and we imagined it had been hit by a car. It didn't move even when I stood next to it.When I clapped my hands, encouraging it to get the hell up before I got run over on the dark country road, it staggered awfully to the side of the road, with one or two broken legs. It also had a bloody gash on the inside of its groin.Thank you lovely D for helping to bundle it in your blanket, and into the back of your car! I was so thankful that you cared too and didn't want to leave it there.

Back home, I tried to work out where to put the fox if it had any chance of surviving the night. I imagined it would die but if it survived the night I could call a rescue centre in the morning. I decided on the bottom of our steep stairwell which is warm and secure with an already trashed carpet.Our puppy barked like mad upstairs as a fox smell is one of the dogs favourite things to follow. I faffed about getting water and a medicine syringe, felt a bit hopeless in the florence nightingale sector, telling a sleepy Ashley that I'd brought an injured fox home, reassuring the dogs that it was just a fox in the hall downstairs, nothing to bark about.The cub was looking pretty rough by now, I sat and gave it some water with a syringe. I remembered grandmothers' thirsty for one last drink whilst their lives were ebbing and reassured myself that at least it wouldn't die thirsty.Every time I thought it was fading it would sit up to raise my hopes before slumping back down.

I felt very connected to the life of this cub in a very short time, feeling honoured to be next to a wild animal, being able to look into its eyes and send all the comfort I could muster. I thought of Tenzin's Deer, a beautiful children's book ( but for adults too) about healing and acceptance. Only it seemed like this animal was going to die and there wasn't much other than pure love I could give it.

Not such a bad gift I know. I realised that it might be distressed by the light so finally said my goodbye and left the fox and it's destiny in the hall ( If you can't find your destiny it might be in the hall )

When I woke up I knew it had died straight away, something had gone, a different feeling in my body.

 Daisy showed some of the workmen the fox cub's body that I had put in the stable, first thing as they arrived for work, with an eager "Can I show you something?", not quite psychologically preparing them for a dead baby fox! They were amazed she wasn't scared of it. I am thankful that she gets to see life and death in this way.

I decide to take the cub across the river and lay it's body high up in the woods.The rather ironic recycle bag felt heavy and thankfully our pup Rosie took one sniff and ignored it as we walked to the river. I didnt fancy battling pup and fox across the stepping stones. For her too the fox was gone, nothing exciting.

At the top of the hill in the woods I found several ancient oak trees. There was a scraped out hollow under one which seemed like a fitting resting place ( probably another annoyed fox's lay up).

When I had laid the fox out, Rosie whimpered at it, sniffed it and ran back away frightened. Death is a leveller for all of us animals.

I didn't want to bury the cub, but I wanted to surround it, encircle it, somehow comfort, protect it, not sure what so I used bark and bracken and a feather and an ever faithful campion flower, always around whenever you have a flower emergency. I did a bit of internal wailing (a terribly English habit of welling up and gulping and then being unable to cry). Bless you fox.

Anyway!  In true local news style here are some lighter moments of the summer.

The essential potato and spoon race, at every good wedding this summer.
( Where was your potato race Anita?!) I love the difference in the expressions of the competitors.

The coolest trike around, solar and pedal powered.This guy was playing summer reggae sounds at the eden project. His deck is in the boot. He looked like he was very happy in his job. Ashley just told me the man made it himself.

I would have taken photos at Nofit State Circus at the Eden Project but this year they didnt allow photographs what a shame as it is soooo much fun and I wanted to share it. Check out the you tube video if you want to see a revolving woman and the coolest pole dancer on the planet...click and click again nofitstatecircus. It was incredible, if you get the chance to see them ever, do it!

Night Night.x

That was then..... ( May)

 I can't quite remember April, there was a bit of painted egg rolling, a birthday for me, but somehow the eggs rolled us into spring, tumbling faster than I could keep up with and I landed in a heap at the beginning of May.
It has been wet, very wet for the last few weeks. I managed to avoid most of it by being ill, twice or looking after our daughter who was also ill twice, so we spent a lot of time looking at the river rise and fall, rise and fall, from our hall and toilet window!
There is something so amazing about your first view in the morning being of a river, there is no getting away from the impermanence of life when it is so quickly changeable.Yesterday's drought replaced by a swirling frenzy, today's chaotic turbulence replaced only hours later by a calm spring valley river. It does not wait for any creature. All the river birds are busy the time we get up, dippers bobbing up and down on rocks as if curtsying. Herons beating their weighty wings in an effort to gain height, always looking like they aren't going to make it. Like birds from another age or place, they somehow look awkward, only just fitting in the valley. Effortless like bees they are not. Lately we have seen a squirrel sitting on a broken off branch on the larch tree, tail curled over his head like an umbrella, sheltering from the rain, gleefully we watched from the window.

We did get onto the moor on a wet and wild day, mostly to tire out the dogs as we had stuff to do, it wasn't a day to hang around, it was a brutal cold wind.The clouds and their shadows were racing across the pale grass strewn ground.Walking boots set a determined pace ahead.Frog boots jumped in black peat bog puddles behind..This was a rare patch of blue.

We battered our way against the wind, up through the bronze age stone rows, without ceremony or ritual just sheer determination and a lot of encouragement for the little one in so much down clothing her only complaint was that she was boiling.We changed direction to avoid the wind in our face and headed for the long stone. Always good for a lean and a think, oh and a pose.

Rosie the pup was having a wild time, racing full tilt chasing her doggy companions, ears blowing about and gait sometimes sideways in the wind.We looked up to see her running far away with her new collie friend, a brief moment of oops and a whistle and they were heading back. At times like that we are so glad she is a collie.


Some of you have seen this recently but it's too cute not to include.....
Rosie on Kestor.

The weather came in fast then and we ran helter skelter down from Kestor, as we have on many a day. Faces screwed up against the rain and howling wind, knowing it won't be long.Cosseted by down and waterproofs and a car ride home.The shelter of warmth and quiet, and excited blown about humans phewing their relief.

Later in May..

A yearning for Scotland finally eased by a surprise wedding and a weekend trip to Dumfries and Galloway.This is The House on the Shore where we stayed in Scotland.The beach just steps away.

We woke up to this view from our room. Ah bliss. Just what I wanted. Space, sea, sky.

Glacial boulders dropped 10,000 years ago dominate the beach. We took it in turns to shriek," Come and look at this!", amazing fossils blowing our minds.

I have a piece of coral here at home that looks exactly the same as this fossil. Except my coral was a gift from Bali.Where was this from and how long ago was the coral

living?

The Solway Firth stretched between us and the Lake District. Scotland to England.

We spent time trying to unsuccessfully get a grip on time while Daisy also struggled with Scotland being another country.

Time, space.Hah what a trip.x

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