Hello to everyone who subscribes to this newsletter, I’m so grateful that you’re here! My last post mentioned a family bereavement, and it’s still quite raw, but I’m starting to dip my toes back into the stream of writing, and hopefully my creativity will start to gently unfurl again, including resurrecting this newsletter. I submitted an essay recently to a competition, which was daunting but I was pleased with what I wrote, and it satisfied another creative itch! Now I’m musing on the pleasures of both music and landscape, and letting ideas percolate which may eventually find their way into a new essay.
Today is National Poetry Day, apparently, so to get the crass self-promotion out of the way, as mentioned in a couple of previous posts, my new poetry book is now out! The Wizard of Flanders Moss is a small booklet of poems inspired by the nature and landscape around Stirling, and it’s available from my Etsy store here. I never thought of myself as a poet, and narrative prose is still my reading and writing happy place, but I so enjoyed exploring and playing with language and form as I wrote these poems, and although I have no immediate plans for more, I certainly wouldn’t rule it out in the future!
To celebrate National Poetry Day, I flicked through it and found a haiku I’d like to share today. It is one of my “Four Seasons” haikus, and this one speaks to me, as do the birds that inspired it, of ongoing life even as the seasons change.
Autumn
The first skein of geese
flying south to warmer climes.
The world keeps turning.
I managed to snap a picture of the first skeins of geese I saw this year. Not the most spectacular photo (by the time I’d finished fumbling with my phone they’d nearly disappeared!), but still a welcome sight which always gives me a lift.
As the weather starts to turn and the temperatures head down south with the geese, I’m enjoying cosying up with good books (luckily there are plenty of those around!). I recently finished Elizabeth Tova Bailey’s gentle and enchanting The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating. During an extended period of serious ill-health, when she is confined to bed and fully reliant on carers, a friend picks up a snail from the nearby woods and pops it on a potted plant in her room. Over the following months she watches the snail with growing fascination, first in the plant pot and later in a large terrarium which her carer brings her, going about its business and exploring its environment. She muses on what she’s learning both about snails, and about herself and her situation. It’s a short and contemplative book, and so respectful of the creature who shares this period of her life. I must admit to not being a particularly big fan of snails, and I don’t think I’m ever going to fully get over the ‘ick’ feelings (not to mention the cross feelings when they eat my veg!), but this book opened my eyes to the complexity and fascinating life of these easily overlooked fellow creatures.
The other thing I’ve started to do is to explore sketching, and I’ve found so much pleasure and relaxation in botanical drawing (mainly with acrylics). It has been such a welcome respite from the busyness of life and the sadness of losing a loved one. I’ve started sketching on coloured card, and when I’ve got enough I’ll be putting these on the Etsy store, and any face to face craft markets I do, as hand-painted bookmarks. Here’s a couple of examples.
Thank you for reading - let me know in the comments how you’re responding to the changing seasons, or share your favourite poem, I’d love to discover more!
(also, if anyone can tell me if the ALT-text is working I’d be really grateful - I’ve put it in for the single photos in this post, but can’t see it!)
Your book marks are lovely, Jackie!
I love the sketching on card; that gold or yellow against the dark green (if my eyes are not betraying me) is beautiful