Speaking for the Wildflowers
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."
Dear readers and flower friends,
How are you all doing today? What’s the weather like where you are? Are there birds singing? I just took a little walk down to the beach and there was a fret coming in off the sea. I enjoy a sea fret, the striking sensory contrast as warm and cool air collide. Looking out over the grass of the emerging dune system on Hoylake beach my back was warm and mellow but the air on my face cool and sharp - a little thing to light up my day.
I’m back into a period of delivering a lot of classes, mindful spaces in which I share my passion for recreating flowers with paper. This causes me to spend time thinking about what I do and why I do it. I make paper flowers - obsessively. I decided some time ago to be a paper botanist rather than a paper florist - although I may have the odd flirtation with peonies and roses, I am really entranced by the magic of our British wildflowers. On those rare days when I get to just sit with myself and be me and do exactly what I want to do - I make paper wildflowers.
As a child I had a deep fascination with wildflowers. Fortunate enough to spend my childhood surrounded by nature, I distinctly remember this taking root when I was around 7. Somehow, my mother acquired a pony - wild, grumpy and unapproachable, he needed a paddock and stable and fortunately suitable lodgings were found. The stabling was about two miles down the country road in the next village and my mother and I often walked there after school. We took a short cut through some woodland and I remember that spring the woods were full of white wood anemones. My mother would talk to me about the plants and flowers and she encouraged me to make field notes and drawings of what I saw. We found spring flowers, violets, common orchids, many different plants and flowers. That notebook is still tucked away somewhere. Summer came and I spent most of my days alone, exploring the woods across the stream over the field behind our house. Nervous, I would startle every time I heard a noise - the rustle of wood pigeons, clattering branches, unexpected sounds coming from the darkness of the trees. I bumped into deer and they ran away - that summer taught me not to be so afraid, nothing meant to harm me, and there was so much to look at. Celandines, dogs mercury, moschatel (the ‘clock face flower’), toothwort, butterbur, lords and ladies - I got to know where to look, and flowers became my friends.
These past four years have been devoted to honing my craft but my relationship and connection to nature and wildflowers runs far deeper. Returning to the source has given me a new outlook on life in what can be difficult and disturbing times. We live in an age of incredible uncertainty and the daily assault of negativity can be exhausting. Considering my subject, I flip through my mental file of recent stories and themes, and it can become overwhelming. In the past few weeks alone: “too hot for bees”; “more than 50% of scientists believe disaster within 5 years”; “90% loss of insects in past 100 years”; “97% of wildflower meadows gone in past century”; “the hidden decline of the earthworm” … and it can be hard to know how to move past this. On the other hand I've also read about how successful various conservation efforts are, with the challenge being: do more!
So I choose to remember: nature is strong, and nature is bigger than us. The planet can heal. We can choose to change our behaviour. Change is constant, and evolution moves onwards. One of the most comforting books I have read in recent times is “Otherlands” by Thomas Halliday - a history of deep time, told backwards. It provides perspective - a reminder of the wealth gone before, of the transitory nature of all being. But also, I think about this:
What is the extinction of a condor to a child who has never seen a wren? (Robert Michael Pyle)
Pyle writes about what he terms “the extinction of experience” which leads, as so many of the paths I take these days do, to the loss of connection with nature experienced by so many in the world today. (See also Richard Louv: The Last Child in the Woods). And yet, the thing is, communing with nature is easy, it requires merely a pause to enjoy a sea fret and feel the sun and air on our skin. To those of us who care, isn’t it our job to remind each other? Don’t forget to listen to birds singing - on the rooftops or in the trees. Enjoy the flowers, wherever you may find them. Hear the buzzing insects, the crashing waves. Wherever we find ourselves, there will be plant life, birds and insects. Show a child a wren, or a sparrow, or a starling. Teach them to salute magpies and hug trees, tell them about the magic of daisies and dandelions. Show them the sheer beauty of it all!
And so … I make my flowers - and teach others how to make flowers - by way of encouragement to look closely, and to commune with nature. And on that note, I will sign off for this time, and thank you, as always, for sticking with my meanderings and reading to the end. Until next time, with love, Ling
Upcoming classes and events:
THE PAPER WILDFLOWER COURSE starts Tuesday 18th June, a series of six classes held weekly, on a Tuesday. All sessions run 10 - 12.30, book single classes or the whole course at a 15% discount. The Paper Wildflower Course focusses on a different plant each week, looking at the detail of these amazing flowers and learning how to recreate them using paper.
The class focus flowers will be: Tuesday 18th June Oxeye Daisy; Tuesday 25th June Harebells; Tuesday 2nd July Cornflower; Tuesday 9th July Dandelion and hawkweed; Tuesday 16th July Cyclamen; Tuesday 23rd July Sea Holly
Meet me at: Wirral Makefest, Birkenhead Central Library Saturday 1st June 2024
Wirral Open Studios Tour Saturday 8th and Sunday 9th June 2024 . My studio (Studio 3, Wood Street Studios, Hoylake) is in a converted building and there will be around 14 artists within a stones throw of this building, an excellent opportunity to soak up some creativity!
Thank you for this beautiful read Ling--such a lovely reminder! You are so right--it's our job to remind each other to take the time each and every day to tap into the beauty of nature around us. So important--yet so easy to get lost in the to-dos of the day and miss it altogether! 💐
I loved Otherlands too!