Stepping Into the Magic

The fragrance of spring is already in the air,
subtle yet sure.

January passed in a fit of gales, rain, and sleet with a rare moment of stillness. I have moved between resting and weaving – that delicate balance that is needed when creating something from the heart.

Winter has been extremely wet, windy, cold and damp in my part of the shire, and yet unnaturally warm at times. For most of this period, life has slumbered along beneath a suffocating blanket of grey. I’ve been tuning into my inner light in order to thrive, and when the sun is allowed to shine, I bathe in those nurturing rays.

The elements have been harsh through these long, dark days (a reflection of mainstream consciousness, perhaps?), but winter has its own song, and I’m reminded of these words by this pure poetic soul…

“It is a pleasure to a real lover of Nature to give winter all the glory he can,
for summer will make its own way, and speak its own praises.”

– Dorothy Wordsworth

Short journeys here and there and quiet moments spent in nature have proved uplifting and essential. Each one has brought a magical moment – the little owl posing for a photograph, a white horse standing proud beside an ancient oak, murmurations of starlings and lapwings, numerous hares crossing our path at dusk, rain-jewelled tree branches glistening in winter’s light…

I’ve continued to dance and write and sketch, and I’ve been singing, too, in a flurry of fearless and spontaneous creativity. This brings me joy.

The fragrance of spring is already in the air, subtle yet sure. The birds are more vocal. There are buds filling out on branches and green shoots emerging from still wet soil, and yet some flowers never stopped blossoming over this strange winter.

As I write, on this first day of February, the sky has cleared. I throw open the window, to let those rare rays enliven my spirit, and breathe. Life is beautiful.


Evening Scenes

A barn owl quarters the spent earth
while a field mouse scurries for cover.

As summer surrenders to the wild atmospherics of autumn, nature prepares for its seasonal transition.

Travelling back to base-camp one evening across the Cheshire and Lancashire plains, it’s clear that the nights are quickly drawing in.

There is something spell-binding about the fast-fading light, which creates a transient palette of colour and hues.

Smoke grey clouds streak the sky, remnants of earlier sharp showers, and the landscape begins its routine merger with the night.

Upon reaching the west coast, a burning pink and orange tinted ribbon is all that remains of the sunset, but the grey cloud blooms have cleared to leave the most magnificent blue sky made richer, perhaps, by the energy of recent solar flares.

Moths begin to storm the road over the moss. A barn owl quarters the spent earth while a field mouse scurries for cover.

These evening scenes, though fleeting, remain with me long after the day’s journey ends. What simple nourishment for the soul.


Walks in Late Spring

Such a joy to be in nature’s domain, walking along quiet lanes in the late spring sunshine.

In wild green verges, butterflies and bees flit from one wildflower to the next, feasting on comfrey nectar.

Buzzards circle higher and higher, wings sun-glazed, oblivious to the tale of Icarus, while closer to earth, swallows swoop in fearless flight.

From the water’s edge, mayflies ascend with but a day of life to enjoy the gentle air.

This age-old scene of nature’s rituals and rich beauty fills me with poetry and song, and I dance along, pausing often to marvel at the miraculous.



Into Enchantment

Whenever I feel my creative nest is closing up around me, I find my wings and fly into nature.

I love writing and creating and sharing my soul’s gifts. It is one of the reasons why I’m here. Birthing new stories and breathing life into an idea brings me immense joy, but can consume the hours and my energy like nothing else. Too much, like too little, isn’t particularly soul nurturing, and so I turn to nature for equilibrium.

Being in nature is alchemy for mind-body-spirit. No matter how tired, how dull, how diminished we feel, nature restores us.

I have always lived close to the earth. No matter where I happen to be, I’ll find a natural place to visit where there is water, trees, wildflowers, wildhearts. This is home and sanctuary filled with sweet sighs and the joyful sense of belonging. Here is where magic happens.

Whether walking the poet’s path around Rydal lake, filled with words and song that brightens on the breeze; or stepping into the enchantment at Aberfoyle, where the woodland hides gateways to the beyond; or walking the sea-tickled shores at one coast or another, listening to the memories of water… here, in nature, I feel free.

Today, I went to my local park. February’s sun has the promise of spring in its rays, teasing everything it touches. This dream called life is birthed from light. Everything feels transient. In this moment, I am girl and woman and something else. Memories of past magical moments in nature become musical notes on my soul’s pages. It is a beautiful song.

Nature has played its part in the best I have written and created, and in everything that I am. Although just a visitor on the earth journey, star-braided and like a comet passing through, I feel nature’s sentience will remain with me long after my tour is done.