Author: A Wilder Life

November’s Fire

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The light this morning set everything it touched on fire with an intense glowing orange. I couldn’t help but to go stand and bathe in it along one of its long corridors in the top meadow after letting the chickens out. After pecking away vigorously at their feed, they have begun preening and basking in their own corridor of light. Even the cats are positioned to soak up the life-giving beauty- in windowsills of course. We are all drawn into the warm light of an early winter’s morning. Against the bright blue clear sky, the great beech tree that forms part of the frame of our view to the west is ablaze with colour. The oranges, yellows, greens and chestnut browns appear like stained glass in nature’s cathedral. It reaches high and outwards and is such a wonder that it inspires peace and reverence within me. I thank the tiny seed that this glorious tree sprang from so many years ago. With light such as this, it’s hard to believe that our days are so short at this time of year! It will begin to get dark by mid-afternoon as we move swiftly towards the shortest day. For me, it is no surprise why our ancestors celebrated the return of the light at Solstice time and this is why it will be forever relevant. Rise, shine and be warm.

Flowing

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Searching for that first word to begin a new piece is like standing knee deep in the river preparing for that first jump. You know its going to be cold and you hesitate…just for a few seconds. When you’re in, the feeling is full of so many sensations. The most notable for me is the freedom. Stretching my whole self out almost beyond my physical limits and becoming one with the water, the moment, the beauty of the valley around me. I replace the fear with calm and allow my body to move naturally and fluidly with the water. I think about the water molecules that surround me. Where they’ve come from and where they’ll go. I wonder if any other human on earth has ever touched them before. They will soon join the vastness of the oceans and perhaps never end up in the same place again. I allow my mind to drift like the river, but then land again in the shallows invigorated and engaged. This is happening within me now as I write, I feel it flowing. I rekindled my love for wild swimming with the help of a dear friend this past summer and it has led me back to a connection I thought I had lost for so many months. I was feeling like a witch who had completely lost her powers. I would go out sometimes desperately hoping to feel something. A tiny spark, a soft whisper, a gentle embrace from the mother, something. It was very unsettling and led me into the tangle of low hanging branches at the river’s edge, so to speak. It was a numbness and an expressionless stare. I am not immune to the effects of what our world is going through right now and that has disrupted me much more than I ever could’ve expected. I have let myself experience the dark but the river has given back what I need as sustenance. I didn’t think that could ever happen to me but it took over. We do not have all the answers and we are not the rulers of this realm. In order to cope when swimming isn’t possible, I often go to a special spot under a particular silver birch on a nearby nature reserve for natural magic in another form. I have birches here but need to see just this one. I’ve only been there with my most intimate fellow people but mostly go alone. I hold onto her fine, flexible gently leaved branches and ask for help. Answers come flowing immediately, like sweet confident words guiding and soothing me. It feels like being embraced by the Mother herself and I feel the connection. I thank her and go with the advice I have gained from an unexplainable source of infinite meaning. I feel the tree from the very tip of the highest reaching leaf all the way down to the end of the longest root deep in the earth below where I stand. I am filled and comforted like a child in that moment. I appreciate this is a slightly bizarre expose on my way of existing, but if it helps anyone else in some small way, I don’t mind. It is the root from which I grow and the thing that all of my writing about nature is based on. I love it and feel it so deeply at times that it must be controlled in order for me to be a functioning member of society! It’s like an enormous liquid sphere I hold in my hand, maintaining its shape so that I don’t let it overwhelm me completely and I accidentally find myself drowning in its inviting power. This is what I think has been happening to me. It has been a gradual process of reintegration back into what a lot of people call “normal life”. For others, but not so much for me. Things have been happening that I haven’t wanted. I didn’t want to have a suspicious substance injected into my arm but felt pressure to have it. I didn’t want the children to go back to school and indirectly enter us back into an exponentially larger group of unknowns. I don’t like seeing and listening to the attitudes of some people I have to be in a room with at my work who just walk in without care for everyone else. I know this is my perception of it and it’s their choice but I don’t have to agree with it. I don’t want these things and have suffered because I’m not in control of it. Knowing this has helped me to relax and come down from extreme ways of thinking. Balance and equal measure in all things is the struggle we all face. I am relearning how to be out among people in the world again and to flow like the river, taking things as they come. Engaging, but also stepping away when I need to breathe. Thinking about wonderful swims, collecting chestnuts, making rosehip syrup and finding comfort in the trees. I am here and always will be.

On a morning

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This morning I find myself sitting on a folding chair in the top meadow not long after sunrise. I smiled a little half-smile a minute ago remembering that I never was much of a ‘morning person’. I blame the chickens and an often overwhelming need to be in this early morning peace on my way back to the house. Sometimes I can’t fight it and if I’m not asleep on my feet, I go in for a cup of tea and come straight back out. The thought always enters my mind each time I check for an early egg. I’m being trained by a natural master and am always rewarded when I give into it. I almost wish I’d slept out here in this perfect temperature as the upstairs is so hot this weekend. I think it would be an idea to set up a bell tent here and use it day and night throughout the summer. I never knew I’d end up living somewhere that is quite literally like being on holiday when life and weather allows. The switch can be switched at any moment into that mode but there are of course other modes here that are much more dutiful. This weekend just happens to have an easier feel because I’ve reached a point in my domestic jobs that enables me to sit and relax a little more. I know the sitting room is a mess, but at least it’s only the childrens’ toys and games that they’ll go back to when they get up. Ah well, such is life! I do love that sentiment. It’s from one of their books I often read called “The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lunch”. Seagulls keep attacking his lunch on its way to him down the zip wire, but eventually the man and his wife work out how to fool them with mustard sandwiches. This is what happens when sitting out here! My mind flows from one thing to another and then stops to listen to sounds that snap me back to the present moment. This spot. We have cut a series of magic paths that go this way and that in the meadow where I am. I’ve put this chair interestingly in a junction where five of them meet. One goes off to the pig sheds, one to the vegetable garden, one to the chickens, one to the meadow gate and one to the house past the trampoline and lawn. Having paths is good fun, even for grown-ups. We’ve cut it like this a few times so the grass is lawn quality for running around on. Imagine a maze in a corn field but instead of corn, our paths are lined with very tall grasses, docks, long buttercups, a fruit tree or two and a few lucky nettles. My cat who has been curled up in a little ball along the edge of the path to the pig sheds this whole time has just heard something rustling and is standing alert, waiting for his moment. If I’d gone back to bed like I did yesterday, I’d be missing so much. It will be far too hot to sit here in about an hour or so. I wonder while I’m sitting here if my presence is altering the things that are happening around me, or if the same things would be going on without me involved. I think some of the things may be the same and I observe them closely. A bee on a flower may not be aware of me and carries on nearby. The gentle movement of leaves on trees I am watching. The way the sunlight highlights grasses at a lower angle this early in the day. The hen clucking in the henhouse while she lays her egg. This is a much explored scientific concept. To what degree am I changing my environment simply by being in it? I know as I sit here that I am indeed causing change, but I get the sense that I am welcome to be a part of it. I think I’ve found a new favourite sitting spot. I’ll go get another cup of tea.

Warmth

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Spring has come at last here on the homestead but its arrival has not been without a hitch or two. The clocks have gone forward so after tending to the chickens, I’m creeping back to bed for a slow wake up. We have been able to enjoy about three days in March when the temperature reached 21C/69.8F and then found ourselves suddenly plunged back into winter soon after. It’s the adaptability of plants and animals during this time that fascinates me so. The risks that are undertaken by delicate flowers to attract bees and insects in order to get ahead of the game are so admirable. They create such a feast for the senses that could all just be nipped by frost or covered in snow the very next day. It’s as if plants live for that moment, when the conditions are right, they flower or make leaf regardless of what may come. Even if it does snow or become icy, the spring growth will only be halted temporarily. I love being an observer of this and enjoy flying around like a little bee inspecting the tree buds, newly opening flowers and emerging seedlings, delighting in the small advancements. There is a bitter wind that warns us all that it is still very early in the season and that we must not put our coats and scarves away just yet! Yesterday, we had a walk on the hill that turned into a sunbathe and picnic in a sheltered place next to silver birches with tiny flickering leaves. The sun warmed us so happily that we stayed for a long time, connecting the ground with the sky much like the plants all around us. Earth, air, fire, water, self. It would have been impossible not to feel this harmonious relationship. A curious hoverfly brought fun for the children as it was hanging in mid-air right above us, then chased this way and that. It kept returning to buzz in a new place close to us and my son would jump up to play with it. I was lying there being restored by the warmth, smelling the spring smells, feeling real again. It’s wonderful to know that more warm days are ahead and that when they come, even if only for a moment or two, we can close our eyes and let it nourish us. As we come out of this second big Lockdown that has felt much longer and more difficult than the last, notice that the world around us is and has always been ready to move forward. It is time to come out of our own heads, emerge slowly and be more like spring flowers. Snow may still come but when the sun shines, we can allow ourselves to bask in its renewing power. I am writing to myself as well. Spring is the perfect time of year for restoration- mind, body and soul.

The quiet days

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The crescendo has been reached and Christmas has come and gone. Each year I am reminded of how much I love these slow days between Christmas and New Year. By the light of the Cold December Moon, our Yule log is still burning in the fire pit under a sky full of stars. I was out there again between about 9 and 10 P.M. enjoying its warmth tonight, offering it more small sticks and twigs, bathing in its smoke. This year, the weather was not favorable to start it on Solstice night so I gave myself a break and waited a few days. We’ve woken up to a light dusting of snow the last couple of days so Winter is here regardless of human ritual. The wood that chose itself is a giant Oak cross section of a large tree we had down in late summer. Oak symbolizes strength, wisdom and longevity. I thought about these powers as I stood taking it in and how they will help me in the coming year. The bright white moon shone on my face and deep into my eyes. I reached up and cupped it in my hands and let it show through each gap in my fingers. I felt its energy flow through me and thought about people gazing up at the same moon centuries ago and maybe doing the same thing. It will be the last of this year AND it is in Cancer which happens to be my sign. I was just reading about this and didn’t realize it until a few minutes ago. Snow was still lying around and the brightness of the full moon combined with the firelight allowed me to see all around. I could hear small creatures rustling near the stable very softly. Something larger, but very light was approaching and I slowly began looking in the direction of the sound. A doe and her grown fawn gently walked and stopped by the bench across the track in front of the house. The fireplace where I was standing is slightly higher up on a raised bit which leads to the big barn. I wasn’t all that close to them so I froze in place hoping that they would stay for a while. The mother could see me and stared my way waiting to see if I would move first. She softly continued walking down the track in my direction, but slightly down from me, with the fawn following carefully. They were so delicate and quiet as they walked by apart from the melted snow puddle pot hole the fawn found its feet dipping into. It was such a moment of great meaning for me to see them appear suddenly in the moonlight and not run away. I felt we understood each other and in that moment, we were the same. These quiet days when there is no pressure for us to be anywhere other than here or on walks are healing and nourishing us more and more each day. It’s like falling through layers or floors in a tall building when you’re able to let yourself relax. We’ve allowed ourselves to be on holiday for a few days with a celebration either side. It is the greatest time! We are home and aren’t allowed to do much else at the moment anyway with COVID around and we’ve accepted that. To accept one’s lot and be happy with it is sometimes called for. After New Year’s Day we can begin the year with strength and determination, mindful at the same time of the gentleness and kindness of the deer. I feel overwhelmed right now at the strong meaning in my experiences tonight in particular. The Oak Yule log, the full moon in Cancer and seeing the mother deer and fawn. My heart is open and my senses are tingling. There are a couple of days to go until the stroke of midnight on the 31st and I intend to keep falling through the layers. In the morning I will let the chickens out at sunrise and come back to bed with a cup of tea. It’s the little things that matter the most. The children have been waking no earlier than 8. I feel cozy which is just how I like it. My small boy is asleep next to me and both fires are burning downstairs. The homestead is sleeping.

The fire within

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Autumn activities are in full swing and I have been a busy little squirrel lately. From rosehip and crabapple jelly to freezing a bounty of chestnuts, I’m on it. To celebrate our first year on the Homestead in style, we started a bonfire in the top meadow and piled it high. It was one of those oddly warm, soul stirring, pinky-blue early evenings when you could stand there, long staff in hand, tending the fire until the end of time. It had been burning for a couple of hours when I found myself drawn to its side after putting the chickens to bed. The irresistible glow and the opportunity to be there all alone for however long I could get away with, beckoned me. The instinct within us as humans to harness and commune with this cardinal element is powerful. It has warmed us, fed us and protected us for around two million years. Fire is a great destroyer as well and gives us a sense of guardianship over a wild and threatening force when it is under our control. When tamed, as this one was, its slow hypnotic burn calmed and also invigorated me. This moment was just what I’d needed for fire often has this effect on me indoors or out. A renewal of the self and a fitting way to mark the first year on this magical hill. It had been raining throughout the short day, but it wasn’t a hindrance to this fire’s wonderfully steady burn. A couple of large fruit wood logs remained atop a great pile of ash. I wanted to keep a satisfying flame going, so I put a few twigs and dry Old Man’s Beard vines on for good measure. Every fire seems to take on its own character, like a little shape-shifting entity that we can please or anger. The wind would gather and swirl sparks up into the half-light and cause the logs to glow almost inside out. I then looked up and noticed the first stars starting to appear. Brown, red and golden leaves I had watched emerge in Spring and give us shade all Summer were now flying delicately through the air around me. I felt the wheel turning towards the great sleep for the Copper Beech, Walnut and Field Maple nearest me. I welcome this quiet Hygge season and love all of its associations. There is so much beauty in the preparation nature undergoes beyond the harvest as we move ever closer to Winter. I am greatly looking forward to another Autumn outdoor fire for Bonfire Night in just a few hours time! We won’t have fireworks as I’m sure plenty of distant neighbours will have them, but who needs the short-lived thrill of the bang when we have FIRE.

A Bright New Morning

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The autumn sun rises through crisp morning air casting an orange glow on everything it touches. It’s the clarity of light and heaviness of the dew underfoot that I love so much about this time of year. It is all the more enjoyable to see our six new rescue hens basking in this newly discovered outside world. I have had the pleasure all this week of watching them regain some of their true nature after spending their first year in colony cages with wire floors. It is a powerful experience to look a creature in the eye and to know where they have come from and to be the one that has changed everything for them. The dear things have already worked out that the house with straw is for nesting and roosting and that if they scratch about and make a wallow in the earth, it’s quite nice to bathe in it. The first few moments when I placed each one into their new enclosure, all they could do was stand there in a huddle and look around in astonishment. They were so clean and pale! A few days on and their combs are becoming a more normal colour, they are eating well and have dirty feet. I’m finding increasing numbers of eggs each day which means that hopefully their stress is subsiding. I think they look more settled and one of them at least is canoodling with Big Rooster through the chicken wire. It’s love in the time of COVID-19. The two mimic each other’s dancing and scratch the ground, talking together. He seems very keen to get close to the new ladies but they have to remain separate for another few days. I feel mean doing this but it’s for the hens protection until they have had a chance to start growing new feathers. Meanwhile, the two 9/10 week old chicks are being kept separate in the vegetable garden for now. I tried introducing them into the main flock of three hens and two cock birds but alas, they were brutally attacked by the older girls. Eventually, everyone will be in together and a new order established, but I’m waiting until the new hens can join in for strength in numbers! I’m not sure if this is the right way to do it so please offer advice for me in the comments box if you have any thoughts. Despite all of the shifting about and worrying about pecking orders, watching them enjoy their new lives here is bringing us a lot of pleasure. The children enjoyed helping them pick apart a sunflower seed head or two and love being followed by excited hens looking for a treat. My son loves collecting a few caterpillars from the cauliflower patch and feeding them by hand to “Baby Bee”. She’s his new buddy like sweet Rosie was before. The chicken love is abundant here and seeing the morning sun on their feathers today was all the thanks I will ever need.

Altering the Native

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It has been a couple of weeks, but I have been busy gathering and thinking. Collecting autumn’s bounty of rosehips, hazelnuts and other beautiful things we come across on walks with the children. I have been contemplating the meaning of the word ‘Alternative’ and for me, it feels like a secret code word. One that exists quietly to most and yet it is there staring us right in the face. It doesn’t shout or appear to us in flashing lights. It’s patiently waiting for its message to be heard. I sense wisdom in this word, like a whisper from the past that silently wants to guide us if only we would listen. Humanity has altered the native so much over the centuries to suit itself that this ‘new native’ is the very thing we should be trying to alter. Life as we know it, “normality” and all that means to most people consists of so many non-sustainable practices and habits that are deeply woven into everyday life. Normal is not working. I have touched upon some of the things we are involved in as people doing our bit to harm our planet in other posts before but we have the power, the buying power, to make a difference by sourcing alternatives. It can just be one change you make to your shopping list that gets the wheels turning in your mind and what if everyone started doing it? Yesterday, I sat down to order our grocery shopping and the first few items I thought of were bread, milk, butter…like a script. Is it conditioning? People used to produce these things at home or find locally and they didn’t need huge factories and companies supplying their demands from distant places. OUR demands. I felt I had the power at my fingertips to make decisions for our household based on the knowledge of alternatives. I know people are beginning to make new choices for the better, like buying milk and eggs locally instead of from supermarkets. This is truly great but we need to see that there is a lot more to do. Small change is still change and if that is all that is manageable for folks then at least it’s something. The recent lockdown created an opportunity for us to think about priorities, do some soul searching and discover things that are right on our doorsteps. Small local shops adapted into vital lifelines to their communities, people offered help to their neighbours, made loaves of bread and started vegetable gardens for the first time. There is still growing demand for keeping chickens. This kind of good stuff must continue and become commonplace where possible of course, so we can reduce the impact we are having. I have also heard that a lot of people were finding nourishment in reconnecting with nature and regaining a love of the outdoors, even in cities. Lockdown was like an enforced alternative that helped open hearts and minds to better ways of being. I am of course focusing on the positives that have come out of such a unique situation we all found ourselves in, but it was certainly not rosy for everyone that’s for sure. My writing is not intended to be too preachy or cause any form of unhappiness. The spirit of it is about sharing ideas and the strength of emotion and feeling that comes to me from immersion in natural things. I understand that people interpret things in their own way and the subject of change is a difficult one. We have to want to in the first place. We can choose not to buy bleached meat, items in tons of neat plastic packaging and harsh chemicals to clean our homes with. There are alternatives and here at this homestead, we are striving to make more and more eco-friendly choices to improve our own environment and raise healthy children. If it costs more, buy less and make it last longer. We humans are so accustomed to having everything all the time and it’s a cycle that is very hard to break. Do we really want tasteless tomatoes in winter that were grown in far flung polytunnels that cause serious local issues for the people growing them? Look at southern Spain and what is currently happening there, really opened my eyes. It might be a bit uncomfortable for us and possibly very hard for some but come on guys, we can do this. Look into alternatives. A topic of conversation that comes up regularly here over supper is about alternative energy options for our place as our LPG tank is running low. Solar and electricity for heating and hot water could work here but we have to get an expert to help advise us on that. One of my favourite phrases is back again, Act Local- Think Global. We can help our beautiful blue earthly home to recover by trying to undo some of the damage we are causing. Let’s do it together and alter the current native. Wish me luck, I’m about to try hazelnut “milk” in my coffee…You know, I could get used to this.

Autumn’s chill

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I am in no doubt that Autumn has arrived here at the homestead. This is most evident in the changing meadow. All of the long grasses have achieved a pale beige state, the tall nettles are looking thin and in the new light the copper beech appears green and brown. I’m sitting next to the disused swimming pool which over the years has become more like a Japanese water garden with ivy, unruly plum overhanging and fading hemp agrimony. A satisfying sight in this warm morning sunlight. Our large black cat sits beside the deep water looking up into the trees for unsuspecting birds. His fur shines and he takes pride in himself by looking my way and regally he begins grooming. It is warm this morning but there is a chill in the completely drinkable air. My partner uses this description a lot at the moment as there has been a noticeable decrease in the late summer pollen we have been suffering from. You can fill your whole lungs with its freshness like pure water. I have so loved the summer but this autumn newness is impossible to resist. I have been turning my thoughts towards introducing a new batch of hens to join our remaining three. We have been offered two chicks that will need to be eased into the flock and a few more ex-battery hens will come along soon. I will be getting them from The Hen Welfare Trust which I feel needs as much support from smallholders as possible. We are making an effort to wean ourselves off of mass production where we can and send a message to the powers that be that we don’t want to benefit from the exploitation of animals, people, or the environment. Hopefully, I’ll be able to start supplying my neighbours with a few eggs by next year. Hen welfare is very close to my heart now because I have seen how unique and characterful they are. Even if you may only be able to keep two or three hens, it becomes commonplace like it used to be, neighbours could supply neighbours and so on. The egg farms could stop killing off one-year-old birds and our egg needs would be met in kinder ways. Our primary school even keeps them. I think the idea is catching on slowly but there is still a lot of work to be done to get the word out. It’s good news that City farms are starting to become attractive and allotment uptake is on the rise. Something to think about and try to adapt into daily life if that strikes a chord with you. Next on the animal saving agenda for me is my addiction to dairy. The two mother cows and calves in the field across the lane are working on me. The children and I visit them at their gate and they are so gentle and enchanting we are powerless to resist their charm. I won’t harp on about the numerous evils associated with that industry in larger scale right now. My neighbour is certainly not into that kind of farming up here. I will continue to battle with my attempts to give up dairy so it remains a work in progress. I plan to get the enclosure ready for the new chicks shortly so I will enjoy some much needed hard labour. There is nothing like that post hard graft feeling that keeps a girl going! I think I would have made a good Land Girl as I have always enjoyed a bit of outdoor work. It will be wonderful to be in the warm sun doing something real, feasting on this autumn air. Times are changing next week as our lockdown bliss is drawing to a close with school starting again. I will be aiming to gain as much sustenance from nature as I can get in the coming days. I also wish you strength and good health as we enter into even more uncertain times. Catch the warm sun on your face. It’s Autumn.

Enter the Orb-weavers

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On a misty morning, hundreds of gossamer webs reveal themselves to me on my way to the chicken house. The perfect Halloween variety woven between burgundy coloured dock seed heads and long grasses. I knew it was going to be an interesting morning when I woke to the sound of cows mooing not far from my bedroom window. I looked out and they were standing at the gate to their field across our lane for some reason. It was a pleasant country sound so I carried on about my business without feeling any need to go check on them. While I was feeding the chickens, I had the overwhelming urge to check for eggs in the other nest box even though they haven’t laid anything there for weeks. Since we have only three hens left, I’ve been getting just one egg first thing and two more around lunchtime. Today, weirdly, there were two eggs in the unused box and one in the regular spot! I thought that was interesting that I should have the feeling to check and then have instant confirmation that the whispering in my ear needed to be followed up. Sometimes it pays to be still and observe the silent promptings, see where they lead you. I think maybe this is what some people believe is a higher power communicating with us in the form of a small voice. For me, it feels like instinct or a state of being in which our natural abilities as human animals become accessible. We are connected intricately with our surroundings and I believe that if we allow ourselves to be calm and open, we can tap into this network of information. It’s like when animals sense long before that a rainstorm is coming by noticing changes in temperature or atmospheric pressure. I realise it isn’t the same thing to feel something physically like a storm coming versus somehow knowing that there are eggs in the box but it’s all natural magic to me. There are countless examples that plants and animals, insects too, receive invisible information to act upon or witness changes that they may need to act upon later. I spent a while looking at the spider webs thinking that they were like telephone wires that send information to the spider in a physical way and wondered if there is transmission between neighbouring webs. I went inside to fetch a magnifying glass to have a closer look at the spiders to try to identify them. I can only tell you that they are orb-weavers and might be Garden or Diadem spiders (Araneus diadematus). Once it reached 8.30 A.M., my son came out to find me spying at spiders in the meadow and joined me with excitement. We looked at each one and discovered that they were all the same body shape and pattern but in various colours. For the first time, I found myself interested in spiders and appreciated the beauty they had brought to our morning. Their webs made me think of autumn and of all the harvesting and foraging we so look forward to. I’m reassured once again that it was a good plan to allow large areas of the meadow to go to seed. It is time for spiders so take a moment to feel the changing season and just put them outside if they’re invading your space. They are too amazing to squash! Admittedly, I always go get my partner to capture the big ones. It’s difficult to get over a phobia, but appreciating them outside in their natural habitat is a start. Instead of waiting for them to surprise you, grab a magnifying glass and try to catch a glimpse of the orb-weavers in particular. You never know where the experience may take you.