I am growing fins instead of feet. There are pauses in the watery waverings of the weather but they appear to be so far unsustained. However unlike some of the rest of the populace who will undoubtedly be bemoaning their "loss of summer" I am not much concerned for my own suntan and more standing in solidarity with our little annual plants, all soldiering on to get by in these rainforest style conditions. Things are indeed growing strangely. Things are bolting that shouldn't even know the meaning of a second year of growth and proffering their seeds aloft in a frenzy like a mother of the bride who has waited far too long to see her beloved child betrothed and nearly chucks the box along with the confetti at the happy couple. Other things such as the potatoes are trying their best not to rot and dissolve whilst slugs giggle in the wings. The trees like it and we are getting some soft fruit and well it is as it is. Living nearly entirely off what you eat is a real teacher. I hear Riverford are importing a lot and as they are not a million miles from here we can't be doing too bad.
I have my ususual small stream or drainage channel beneath my cabin, flowing merrily along. I shifted from the left to the right side of the bed, unnaturallly, to ensure my dreams didn't flow downhill overnight. I am sure it's bad ju ju to sleep over moving water. The sheep's feet are on the verge of falling apart which is really far more worrying, as there must be many others across the country in the same condition. Really our own needs of sitting on the decking aor getting to the beach re pretty minor when we can simply sit inside or just leave the country if we want. The sheep have to just squelch along and the veg just has to float. Even the earthworms are drowning poor things. I thought if you can't stop it, get amongst it........
I decided a couple of weeks back to do a wilderness quest and chose last Tuesday to strike out. It felt like the perfect time to go and it was also full moon. Undeterred by almost guaranteed rain I packed a minimal amount and struck out. I had no fixed destination and no map. A particular high point was in my mind as a mental marker and the mist was everywhere so a map would've been pretty useless anyway. Trust was my navigator. I discovered fields, woodlands, high moors, resevoirs, green lanes, old tracks and witnessed so much beautiful countryside I would never have seen with a set route. I took marker points all along in case I had to backtrack and breathed in the wonderful smells that come with rainsoaked nature. Barbed wire was jumped, gates were traversed and land was trespassed. I got offered a lift without asking (I turned it down), was given a free jar of tasty chutney, encountered an empty taxi in the middle of nowhere, again if the rain had been too much there was another opportunity to bail for me, and I trotted happily on. Seven hours later I got to my notable high point, swathed in mist, literally swirling all around it. I could see the air moving in bursts and whirls. The rocks loomed up , I almost bashed in to them. I sat up into the night in a hidden nook under a small cliff with a stream flowing, foxgloves growing and bats flitting overhead. I had found a secret spot that was perfectly out the wind, if not totally dry, then very much like paradise to me. I got my realisations throughout the day and night and finally snuggled into a bivvy bag for a couple of hours before rising to a serenade from a single robin. Unexpected in this high place. I intended to fast for the quest but chose to break this and stop in on a friend on the way back. We managed to burn time for a whole morning talking about bushcraft, knife designs, food and the state of the nation. A fine piece of gluten free cake was happily delivered with a pot of coffee to this damp and happy traveller as I hopefully knocked the door at a bright and early 9am. I'd been up since 4.40am. It was like manna. When marmite beans and unusual French wild boar chorizo followed at lunchtime I was content beyond belief. Quite a journey, the return was 6 hours. The next morning someone told me I looked like I'd done a few rounds in the ring but it was worth it.
Funnily enough the very same next morning I was due to make my acting debut; (that's not strictly true as I did play a rat in the school play. Oh and actually I was Lead Snowflake in a Christmas dance performance when I was about 5). Anyway before this play we all forage for foodstuffs in the garden with the kids and then do a story around it. I was a mean old woman who wouldn't share, living with 2 mean sisters. It was brilliant. I had a right laugh and at one point all 40 kids were totally silent, a surefire sign that we were all doing a good job.
Aside from the am-dram I also took 2 groups of kids fire making in the woods last week, using sparks and tinder and natural materials. It was really fun and they all described it at the end as "cool!" and other positive things so I was proud of my efforts as this is all new to me. Lowpoint being my volunteer help who despite having English as a second language managed to say the f word in front of all the 9 year olds when the spark didn't catch and then rounded the session nicely off with the s word when he burnt his hand. Choice. I felt their teachers stiffen in the background but I just kept talking like it hadn't happened. Challenges, challenges.
I struck out at the weekend for Totnes on Saturday and Welcombe on Sunday eating lots of cake, chatting with my mates, making a willow woven fish, spinning wool for the first time with some lovely old ladies, eating chips and sitting in the imaginary sun, not necessarily in that order. Generally having a lush time doing very simple things. Which is where I am at. Be grateful for the simple stuff around you. Your friends. Your family. Your food. Your health. Your fun times. It's the stuff that matters. Oh yessireee........
I have my ususual small stream or drainage channel beneath my cabin, flowing merrily along. I shifted from the left to the right side of the bed, unnaturallly, to ensure my dreams didn't flow downhill overnight. I am sure it's bad ju ju to sleep over moving water. The sheep's feet are on the verge of falling apart which is really far more worrying, as there must be many others across the country in the same condition. Really our own needs of sitting on the decking aor getting to the beach re pretty minor when we can simply sit inside or just leave the country if we want. The sheep have to just squelch along and the veg just has to float. Even the earthworms are drowning poor things. I thought if you can't stop it, get amongst it........
I decided a couple of weeks back to do a wilderness quest and chose last Tuesday to strike out. It felt like the perfect time to go and it was also full moon. Undeterred by almost guaranteed rain I packed a minimal amount and struck out. I had no fixed destination and no map. A particular high point was in my mind as a mental marker and the mist was everywhere so a map would've been pretty useless anyway. Trust was my navigator. I discovered fields, woodlands, high moors, resevoirs, green lanes, old tracks and witnessed so much beautiful countryside I would never have seen with a set route. I took marker points all along in case I had to backtrack and breathed in the wonderful smells that come with rainsoaked nature. Barbed wire was jumped, gates were traversed and land was trespassed. I got offered a lift without asking (I turned it down), was given a free jar of tasty chutney, encountered an empty taxi in the middle of nowhere, again if the rain had been too much there was another opportunity to bail for me, and I trotted happily on. Seven hours later I got to my notable high point, swathed in mist, literally swirling all around it. I could see the air moving in bursts and whirls. The rocks loomed up , I almost bashed in to them. I sat up into the night in a hidden nook under a small cliff with a stream flowing, foxgloves growing and bats flitting overhead. I had found a secret spot that was perfectly out the wind, if not totally dry, then very much like paradise to me. I got my realisations throughout the day and night and finally snuggled into a bivvy bag for a couple of hours before rising to a serenade from a single robin. Unexpected in this high place. I intended to fast for the quest but chose to break this and stop in on a friend on the way back. We managed to burn time for a whole morning talking about bushcraft, knife designs, food and the state of the nation. A fine piece of gluten free cake was happily delivered with a pot of coffee to this damp and happy traveller as I hopefully knocked the door at a bright and early 9am. I'd been up since 4.40am. It was like manna. When marmite beans and unusual French wild boar chorizo followed at lunchtime I was content beyond belief. Quite a journey, the return was 6 hours. The next morning someone told me I looked like I'd done a few rounds in the ring but it was worth it.
Funnily enough the very same next morning I was due to make my acting debut; (that's not strictly true as I did play a rat in the school play. Oh and actually I was Lead Snowflake in a Christmas dance performance when I was about 5). Anyway before this play we all forage for foodstuffs in the garden with the kids and then do a story around it. I was a mean old woman who wouldn't share, living with 2 mean sisters. It was brilliant. I had a right laugh and at one point all 40 kids were totally silent, a surefire sign that we were all doing a good job.
Aside from the am-dram I also took 2 groups of kids fire making in the woods last week, using sparks and tinder and natural materials. It was really fun and they all described it at the end as "cool!" and other positive things so I was proud of my efforts as this is all new to me. Lowpoint being my volunteer help who despite having English as a second language managed to say the f word in front of all the 9 year olds when the spark didn't catch and then rounded the session nicely off with the s word when he burnt his hand. Choice. I felt their teachers stiffen in the background but I just kept talking like it hadn't happened. Challenges, challenges.
I struck out at the weekend for Totnes on Saturday and Welcombe on Sunday eating lots of cake, chatting with my mates, making a willow woven fish, spinning wool for the first time with some lovely old ladies, eating chips and sitting in the imaginary sun, not necessarily in that order. Generally having a lush time doing very simple things. Which is where I am at. Be grateful for the simple stuff around you. Your friends. Your family. Your food. Your health. Your fun times. It's the stuff that matters. Oh yessireee........
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