Arriving

After a stormy night I am greeted with sunshine as I drive south for the Devon moors. The mood on site is happy after a party the night before to celebrate a birthday and people are moving slowly but geared up for the planned walk taking in the scenery and the local pub. We gather and string out down the track heading for the woods and onwards into fields and open space. The views are wonderful and Dan scampers off at intervals to gather wild mushrooms for identificaiton later which seem to be growing in abundance. We trek past horses, trees, hills and more fields. Tom the dare devil leaps onto a rope swing across the river that looks perilously thin at the top with "Well I can only get wet........". Tom survives his leap of faith. We cheer. Walking provides a great space to chat to several people and get some beautiful views of the countryside around. Despite being here before I haven't really explored much around Embercombe. The pub appears and its time to take the weight off. Later we all eat together and peopele give their thoughts about Dan, who he is, their time together and what they will miss. Also their hopes for the future. The mood is light however with lots of laughter and it seems to be a great end to a weekend of celebrating different occasions. My first day has been fantastic, tomorrow I begin my year as an apprentice.
I awake the next day to realise I have been dreaming of oak and ash trees, the oak tall, gnarled and cracked and the ash trees releasing thousands of seeds which I run through like a huge wave. We check in, as happens each work day, in a circle to talk about where we are all at. I am lucky to be part of a bushcrafting session this first day with the current and previous apprentices. Our predecessors share their skills and we learn to sharpen and handle knives and then we retreat to the woods for fire building. I create my first matchless fire using a fire steel and cotton wool wrapped up in hay. It's a small miracle to see the spark become a flame and take hold and know that I have created this. I change pace on Tuesday by helping clean the main building and spending the afternoon de-seeding leek flower heads and labelling apple juice. Apple pressing has been a major operation of recent weeks and there's still a 90 gallon barrell to fill. The previous night we did a few presses by lamplight in the fast descending temperatures. It gives you the added joy of black hands from the tanins in the apple pulp but imagining a good glass of cyder or apple juice as the fruits of your labours helps smooth the way. With a team effort and a high comedy barrell-rinsing exercise we are there and can retreat to the warmth of the dining yurt.
Another person leaves on Monday night and another special meal is shared. There is a constantly shifting community here which makes it interesting and always unique. I am sure many hellos and goodbyes will be said each month along with many hugs. There is definitely an extended family which gravitates in and out like one big living breathing organism. There are many stories to be shared and many skills to be shown. Already I am glad to be one of the newest members of this community, listening, learning, hoping, dreaming.

Leaving

I think I may have made this most recent move in my life with less drama than previous decampments. Well, I'll re-phrase; I know I have. There was still the usual frantic rummaging around in my room, leaping over the futon bed like a dog taking part in an agility trial and both hands burrowing like a mole on speed in my various boxes and bags. Vicki and Toby were patient with my growls and prowls about the house looking for keys, phone charger, wallet and anything useful which naturally got swallowed in the detritus of my less useful belongings. Occasionally Merryn, my ten month old neice, was sat on things but more often than not I couldn't even blame the curiousity of the baby and it was just me being scatty.
I ran my final errands around town buying socks and soap and eventually gave up and decamped to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibition at the city museum. I love to marvel at the miracles of nature and felt I should take myself beyond my minor gripes with packing and literally look at the bigger picture. As always I was inspired, moved to tears and left deep in thought at some of the images presented so beautifully. I was drawn to one image in particular of "Migaloo" taken by an Australian photographer. Migaloo is a rare white humpback whale photographed from an aerial view to show him cleaving through his watery world. Migaloo doesn't really blend in with the crowd. He's bright white for a start. And huge. Amazingly, when Migaloo makes his move to begin his migration his exit has been pre-empted. Every year the Australian government puts in place legislation to ensure that a 500m exclusion zone is respected around the whale to allow him to proceed safely on his way. This fact brought me to tears as I realised how much more we could do to protect the natural world if only the intentions were there. Go well Migaloo.
I wandered back to my car and headed for home, only to be caught in an unexpected surge of football supporters all leaving the Saturday afternoon match at Ashton Gate. As I inched my way along the river I resisted the urge to swear, letting people in and accepting the potentially hour long crawl. Strangely I suddenly felt that this was precious time, trapped as I was in my metal box which has been part of my work for the last few months, it suddenly felt like a retreat, somewhere to consider my new future looming large in the foreground. I watched the red lights of the car in front merge with the glare from a streetlight and it was suddenly like the world had shifted. It was strange and magical and I realised suddenly I was leaving again. I burst into tears and sat with a wet face watching the column of traffic before me. A mini flood really compared to past crying sessions which have carried me through several motorway junctions at a time. It was necessary and part of the process and I didn't feel deeply sad or lost but really the opposite. I was surely going to miss my home in Bristol but my new horizons were just startting to appear.