A Cacophony of Geese
...and some very early snowdrops...
Dear flower friend! It’s been such a long time since I last wrote, how the heck are you doing? Happy New Year! Hm, has the moment passed? I’m not sure….I came across some advice recently to leave resolution making until March, I can certainly go with that … anyway, question - are you hibernating too? Apart from brief forays outside I am currently busy trying to keep warm whilst surviving off the store of nuts I built up in the autumn. Perhaps surprisingly, I still have plenty to share…
I woke up today to snow, slightly more than a dusting, but a lot less than a drift. It’s not the first snow of the week, tiny powdery flakes fell around me on Monday, and on Tuesday I was treated to a snowbow over the sea. But today is white and feels more - wintery? It’s been cold, but it’s been damp and dreich, and the drop in temperature and freshness of the freeze feels welcome, refreshing. This wintery period of hibernation is finally behaving itself, doing what it should be doing rather than just being wet, dripping, half hearted.
To see the pond frozen entails going the long way round. Approaching the pond from this unfamiliar angle I passed a field full of boisterous Canada geese, bustling around readying for take off. I hadn’t gone far when they launched skywards. I have seen huge gaggles of geese before, flying in neat formations, but this crew didn’t seem to know what they were doing or where they were going. They circled the sky above the pond several times before seemingly reaching an agreement and heading off. I assumed, wrongly I know, they would fly south, and they were heading in that direction, but I now realise that in the UK these geese are largely sedentary - they don’t migrate, preferring to overwinter here, our relatively mild winters allowing them plenty of feeding and an easy life. So the geese were simply a cacophony, passing over head and around and around the pond, hidden behind the trees, noisily honking.
The pond was frozen. There is a calm, rather austere beauty to the landscape, the pondscape, at this time of year. The freeze has come relatively late in the season, causing some large stands of Alexanders, colonisers of the path these past few years, to wilt. They are too eager, but also determined. The cold may see off this early growth but they will come back. I hope the cold, clearing the invaders, clears some ground for the other spring plants I am waiting for, the bluebells, daffodils, cowslips and ramsons. I will keep watch, dark green glossy spears are already emerging underneath the alder and ash trees and they will withstand the cold. Impatient though, I couldn’t resist staging some early snowdrops - did I trick you?!
Deftly changing the subject to my creative practice, my current situation finds me idea rich but time poor - unfinished pieces are mounting up - honestly, I will get them finished eventually! Top of mind right now is a newsletter I’ve been asked to write and illustrate. Still working on the concept, I’m leaning towards encouraging reader participation with a nature journal, a concept pilfered from an old friend, Dr Megan Wakefield. Megan writes eloquently about her experience of Nature Journaling as group work here. We grew up together, sharing many childhood experiences of nature and now, somewhat older and wiser, find we share another passion - the sense of connection to nature, and the idea of using art and the creative experience to stimulate and encourage the same sense in others. We recently reminisced, remembering how nature practically grew into our houses in the North Yorkshire of the 70s and 80. We made endless journeys on foot - walking paths along a network of disused railway lines. By the 1980s, there was only one line in use, coming into Whitby along the Esk Valley, a reduced service bringing in half the school from the villages each morning. The old lines traced the coast, and those dark cinder paths lined with gorse, bracken and rosebay willowherb are always there in my mind, a backdrop to all the many walks, in many directions, inland to the moors or heading towards the cliffs and the sea, walks which shaped us and formed within us - and so many of the kids we knew back then - a deep understanding that we are merely part of nature, always connected, and that nature is greater than any of us….
I’ve written about this before, many times, and the challenge which faces me, and Megan, and all of us writing and talking about the importance of a connection to nature is how to create this as a genuine experience for children, as opposed to a ringfenced “nature experience”. The “nature experience” is of course valuable and valid, but does it create connection in the same way as getting out into the parks or the countryside, kicking up some dirt, greeting the trees? When you recognise the plants and flowers, the birds twittering and singing - when you know nature in your bones, and you understand you are part of it. Richard Louv writes about this in his insightful book “The Last Child In The Woods” (see my earlier post: “Being the change I want to see…” which you can find here). So … it’s a challenge, but I know that even thought it feels like a huge one, the only way is to break it down into smaller components. I’m starting with recognising trees “without their leaves on” - looking at twigs, buds and bark. Still, all suggestions or prompts are gratefully appreciated, please hit the comments button!
And I think that’s where I’ll leave it for today, gentle reader and fellow flower friend. Thank you so much for reading. If you are interested in what’s on offer in the world of Paper Flowers at the moment, see below the line, down there!
Until next time, and with love, Ling
MOTHERS DAY CLASSES: Book one place get one half price - why not book a space for your mum and join her for a lovely day in the studio. Upcoming classes: Wednesday 13th March 10 - 2, Port Sunlight Rose £60; Wednesday 20th March 10 - 2, Paper Bomb Peony £60. Come along to both sessions and leave with not one but two stunningly detailed paper flowers!
EVENING CLASSES: IMPORTANT UPDATE I’m sad to report I had to cancel one of my evening classes (Tuesday, not Thursday). The decision wasn’t taken lightly and I can only apologise for any disappointment but I will be running the classes again later in the year so if you would like to be in, please join my waitlist by sending me a message and you’ll get an early booking discount.
OTHER NEWS FROM THE STUDIO I’m refining my craft packs - there’s limited stock from my prototype run available here if you fancy trying your hand at crafting your own paper wildflowers - truly a wonderfully absorbing pastime, and once you’ve mastered it, you’ll never look at flowers in the same way again! And .… I want to bring Paper Wedding Flowers to British weddings! So there’s a lot going on…. XOXO
HNY Ling, it’s good to see you back. I do quite like the idea of hibernating, except for those days when winter calls you out to play. I smiled at trees without leaves on - part of my course included lectures at the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh and plant identification did not stop over winter. The cut foliage in the vases was simply replaced by bare branches - twig ident as we called it!
You must also write about the butterwort and sundew on the moors. And that spectacular caterpillar we found.