Tag: rewild

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.

Nature as usual

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I looked out of the kitchen windows and saw a wonderful sight. Two young Chaffinches clinging to the rusty orange fading Garlic Mustard plants that are no more than 6 feet from where I stood. It had been raining for several days so nature came to me without the need for my rain gear. They were swaying back and forth feeding on the long seed pods. I watched them fly over to the small pear tree, hop to the ground for a peck about and then make a quick departure. I was so pleased that I hadn’t had a desire to cut down the tired looking plants already. It makes me want to try the seeds myself. I have had the pleasure of noticing a few homestead successes over the past couple of days, despite quite a wet week. When visiting the chickens, I figured it might be time to have a look at the wild parsnips again to check for red soldier beetles. Goodness me, the three clumps now exceed my height and were absolutely teeming with beetle activity. Red critters galore! Once my eyes tuned into them, I started seeing them all over. I noticed a couple in the vegetable garden as well which is a great sign. What I don’t know, however, is if their proliferation is definitely down to the wild parsnips being allowed to stay or if it’s something else. Whatever the reason, I’m glad to see them and do not have much green or black fly to worry about. On that note, I don’t know if it’s just luck or what but I have seen several seven spot ladybirds and no harlequins. I had so many harlequin larvae on the nettles recently I thought they would easily dominate over any others. This delightful report may change if there is some sort of mass hatching of a new battalion of harlequins, of course. Another lovely discovery came in the form of tiny clusters and single perfectly placed butterfly eggs on my salad leaves. There were three different egg colours and types on the leaves and another light green cluster on the underside of a nearby marigold leaf. I called for the children to come share my excitement and they were thrilled. Just this week we drew and talked about the life cycle of butterflies and they were fascinated. A few days before, they had found a huge mullein moth caterpillar on a buddleia bush that sparked their interest. They also loved and were slightly scared of the peacock butterfly caterpillars we had on the nettles. To find butterfly eggs was the icing on the cake. Needless to say, we won’t be eating the salad until we can share it with the caterpillars. This afternoon saw the end of the latest rainy spell and we were treated to a blazing sunset to end the day. I plan to harvest more chamomile flowers in the morning, once the dew has lifted from this wild land. A long awaited sunny day is likely to reveal a few more unexpected pleasures. Our eyes will be open.

Morning Light

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The light was so beautiful this morning when I went out to open the chicken house, it was impossible to go back to bed. I always creep quietly back upstairs to enjoy another hour or two but today I felt like I would be missing something. The recent winds seem to have cleared the air again and I could breathe deeply. I stopped to enjoy a brilliant beam that was reaching a new part of the usually dark grey kitchen floor, highlighting its glorious unevenness. One of the cats came to join me at the outdoor table as I sat with my morning tea. He had such a wise and knowing look about him as if to welcome me to his world. An early morning place I don’t see since I’m an avid night owl. The moon had reached its peak fullness only three hours before. I’m sure that event had added some natural magic into the mix. My big furry boy rolled around in the sun at my feet as I took it all in. Later, we’ll go out to the top meadow with the children to identify grasses. I have a wonderful identification book that I bought a long time ago with the smallest of coins. It was printed in the 1970’s when I guess there was more of a demand for enjoying such detailed pursuits outdoors. One of my favourite nature writers began his career in the early 70’s, inspiring the nation and the world with his peaceful enthusiasm for the subject. Richard Mabey brought knowledge and personal observations in his book Flora Britannica, Book of Wild Herbs to the people and continues to be forever relevant in my life. You may know him from Food for Free, first published in 1972 with its wonderfully illustrated cover. Whenever I see his name associated with a book or old television program, I’m all over it. I feel a need in humanity at the moment for a return to nature in any way that can happen, a long overdue reconnection. My Mabey dreaming came to a pause when my children came out to find me basking all alone. They ran out in bare feet with freshly awakened faces bringing me back to my morning duties. I stood up, gave myself a good stretch, rejuvenated and ready for anything.

Chamomile among the beans

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One of the oldest and most documented medicinal plants in the world is growing like wildfire here and has made a home among the broad beans. It is probably in your arsenal of herbal teas right now. Chamomile has been used for centuries as a healing medicine with a vast array of uses. I plan to dry the flowers by the bucket load and share them with friends. They are also thriving in almost overwhelming quantity in the chicken enclosure. This could help to explain why my chickadees are so relaxed most of the time! It is positively knee-deep in there with trails through it stamped out by the chickens. Soon the chamomile will be ready to harvest, preferably when the moon is ascending and on a flower day. Then the goodness will all be concentrated in the cheerful little flower heads for best results. It is an enchanting sight to see the way they are intermingling with the beans. I enjoyed kneeling before them today as I tackled a few new nettle shoots that keep catching me out. I picked my first two broad bean pods that ended up in a raw pea, broad bean, spring onion salad with soy sauce, Japanese vinegar and honey dressing. Lovely combinations of plants are happening all around as we enter the second part of the summer. There is more Fat Hen growing through the peas, a second flowering of purple dead nettle in the cauliflower patch and countless wildflowers springing up all over. I found a large form of cress with a superb peppery bite among the cauliflower also, and yarrow is beginning to flower along the path. I filled my enormous red colander with green goodies to use for supper earlier. The children took pleasure in using scissors to harvest handfuls of tender pea pods of which several didn’t make it into the container. What joy for them to open up the pods that had fattened to find sweet delicious peas inside. It is a fun way to get them to enjoy green vegetables and hopefully create strong memories for their future lives in food. They also particularly liked the smell of the broad bean pods today. My son said they smell like ‘green’. Indeed they do. I think all colours should have an associated smell. We carried the harvest to the kitchen in time for a dark cloud to hide the sun just as we were satisfied with our pickings. Thanks to an amazing new friend, I knew exactly what to do with the variety of green leaves. I had mostly cauliflower shoots after giving the rows another thinning, some Fat Hen, plantain and yarrow. It had to be Okonomiyaki, a simple but completely delicious Japanese savoury pancake we now enjoy regularly. These beauties are packed full to bursting with shredded cabbage, spring onions and ginger normally, but being me I had to try it with some homegrown and wild greens. I make it gluten free very successfully with trusted flour, cornflour, a small amount of water, three eggs, a nori sprinkle, and rice bran oil I have to hand. The children quite like to have just the pancakes without any ‘green bits’ so a second batch is always needed. I top our grown-up ones with squeezy mayo, a special Okonomiyaki brown sauce from my friend and freshly grated ginger. My partner can’t have the special sauce so I give him extra rice vinegar and gluten free soy sauce to splash on his. Satisfaction guaranteed! It is filling and a great way to pack a lot of nutritious veg into your diet when it’s soaked in Umami flavour. Some of you may be thinking that I cook a lot of asian inspired food and you would be right, but there is so much to love about all of the exciting spices and endless combinations of sweet, salty, sour and spicy flavours to explore. In addition to this love, I also go to my Yotam Ottolenghi book, ‘Plenty’ regularly for inspiration. He is an Israeli-English chef and food writer if you haven’t already heard of him. His food is transcendent and for me, he has the ability to elevate the most humble ingredient with exotic flair. One to look for if you like to use food to cure yourself of any form of malaise like I do. When our carrots and sweetcorn are ready to harvest I might find that very minimal cooking will suit them best. I tasted my first carrot today and the intense flavour and crunch spoke for itself. It was only about the length of a finger but was calling my name when I saw its orange top showing above the earth. I shared it of course! I feel a mass chamomile flower harvest will come any day now so I will need to prepare a drying line or two to hang them upside down from. I’m hoping the house will slowly start to look more and more like a medieval apothecary as the summer goes on. I have a jar of purple dead nettle tops infusing in organic olive oil from mid April I dried for making into salve and calendula flower heads on tea towels next to a stovepipe drying beautifully as well. I haven’t bought chamomile tea for a long time so I am looking forward to a fresh pot of wild homestead medicine. Watching the chamomile grow is another confirmation to me that by lovingly managing our land, nature shares its bounty with us so that we may thrive along with all of the other creatures that depend on it. I’ll drink to that.

Nettle Islands

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They sting me through my gloves almost daily but they are welcomed. In the top meadow, we have allowed rafts of nettles to thrive in abundance for nature to show us what they can do. It is still easily possible to access every area of the land we want to and navigate around the nettles via a series of paths we manage. I deliberately wanted a patch of nettles next to the vegetable garden to attract bees and their friends but didn’t know what kind of insects would appear there. To our amazement, the patch that runs along one side of the chicken’s enclosure is now home to hundreds of Peacock Butterfly caterpillars. The children and I discovered them yesterday and also saw Harlequin Ladybird larvae there too. Both looked ready for battle with menacing spikes all over and in great numbers. Much like their host plants! I admit I am excited about the butterflies and not so much about the non-native ladybirds. I understand they are out-competing our native species. Today I noticed the Dunnock who have been brooding chicks in the neighbouring bush were flying over to help themselves to a few. I think they were going for the caterpillars, unfortunately. Something very exciting appeared when I turned over a seed tray the wind had blown over in the vegetable garden yesterday. A Slow worm, a coppery coloured shiny creature was hiding under there. A very welcomed guest and a sign of healthy land. This was a wonderful discovery and I was so pleased to see that nature has provided a slug and snail predator for the garden. They are actually lizards but when you see one they look very snake like. It has been humid lately which is probably what brought it out. I found it next to the nettle patch I mentioned earlier so maybe it likes them too. I have also left islands of long grasses and large areas of meadow with so many wonderful plants for beasties of all shapes and sizes to enjoy. There are even wild parsnip plants in there, only three so they aren’t harming anyone. When I identified them I thought it best to let them be due to their ability to cause phytophotodermatitis (what a word!). This plant, “Pastinaca Sativa”, can cause severe burns if you break it, come in contact with the sap and happen to be standing in bright sunlight. Even brushing against it is not advisable. On a happier note, the yellow flowers are attracting insects now and I’m hoping to see red soldier beetles taking up residence on them soon. They’re another ally in the garden but not for slugs, snails and aphids! Gardening with nature is allowing us to get an insight into the intricacy of the delicate balance that exists out there. The micro level sustains the macro. Wildlife needs the nettles and wild parsnip to survive and we need wildlife to help provide us with food as well. By avoiding too much unnecessary chopping and managing the land organically, we can hopefully encourage these silent helpers to flourish. My anticipation is growing for the next little peek into this beautiful web of life. Hopefully without any encounters with any more six-foot-tall, skin melting plants. The nettle islands can stay!