This spring, something was different. I’ve been noticing the elder tree more this year. The sight of it makes me smile and on many occasions I’ve had to stop mid-step when hit by its summery scent and look around for its source. A little bit like hearing your name being called out, turning around and recognising a friend in the crowd. People who work with plants will often start to humanise them, saying things like ‘see which plant speaks to you’ or referring to them as ‘an old friend’. I raised my eyebrow to that before. Not anymore. A few years ago it was hawthorn. I could smell its almond-like, sweet almost nauseating smell from a mile away. This year the elder seems to be befriending me.

I don’t remember my first encounter with the elder tree. Do you? It is such an ingrained part of our landscape and our summers! And lately elderflower picking has become almost a ritual for seasonal living. Indeed I found a saying that the English summer begins with elderflower and ends with elderberries. I know my summer is incomplete without lemonade, Pimms and elderflower cordial! It probably isn't the case anymore (although it would be wonderful if it was), but I’m sure there was a time when every adult could have recognised the elder tree from making pop-guns and whistles from its hollow stems as a child. I remember too having the most refreshing and delicious drink ever in Switzerland many years ago. When I enquired if those tiny five-petal flowers floating in the punch bowl were elderflowers, my host was super secretive of her family recipe. But regardless of my unproven suspicions, I fell in love with them from then on. 

So this spring as I began noticing elderflowers more, my curious mind began to enquire the history and folklore of Sambucus Nigra. Over the years, I had got to know elder better from a herbal medicine, a culinary and a foraging perspective and began regarding it with reverence. After all it was once called ‘the poor man’s medicine chest’ on account of its healing benefits for a wide range of ailments, from bronchitis to rheumatic pains, migraines, flu etc. The berries are very high in Vitamin C and studies have proven that elderberry extract inhibited the H1N1 virus (swine flu) in vitro and was effective against H5N1 virus (bird flu). I actually heard a story that during the autumn of the bird flu when the herbalists went looking for elderberries encouraged by its antiviral properties they found almost none. After much speculation and debate, a seven year old remarked that of course the birds have been medicating themselves, thus preventing its spread! Other than the flowers and the berries, its bark, leaves and even the roots were once used medicinally. The berries were also used as dyes producing violet, lilac and black colour.

I therefore found myself frowning at the sinister reputation it seems to have acquired. It is rumoured to be the tree that Judas hung himself off (amongst other contenders) and also whose wood was used for the crucifix. Making a child’s cradle with elder wood is said to bring ill luck. One reference specifies the baby will be pinched black and blue by the spiteful elder mother who lived in the wood. Witches were said to be able to transform into elder trees too; in Ireland they seem to be riding elder staffs instead of brooms. To burn elder wood brought death and disaster and was believed to ‘raise the devil’.  There is a record from 1850 of a parishioner saying, ‘...we look carefully through the faggots before we burn them, for fear that there should be any of this (elder) wood in them.’

But travel back further in time and the story is quite different. The name is derived perhaps from the Anglo-Saxon ‘Aeld’ meaning fire as the hollow stems were used to blow air into the flames. In Denmark, it was known as ‘Hyldemor’ – Elder Mother, the crone aspect of the feminine trinity, who is said to dwell in the tree. One was not allowed to cut a branch without permission lest you anger the Lady.

‘Lady Elder, give me some of thy wood and I will give you some of mine when I become a tree.’

In Ireland the tree is associated with the Faery realms. Sitting under an elder tree on Midsummer’s Eve (or Samhain in Scotland), one might be graced with the sight of the Faery King and Queen (conspicuous amounts of elderflower wine may have been recommended beforehand!). And in the Celtic Ogham calendar, the elder tree rules the 13th month (approx Nov 25 – Dec 21).

It then started to occur to me how the elder might have started to gain a bad reputation during spread of Christianity. It suddenly makes sense how the crone, the Mother, becomes a witch - its association with the 13th moon might make it automatically unlucky. And is it so hard to see how its link to the otherworld of faeries becomes a link to the underworld of the devil?

There are some superstitions, however, which make sense. Stay with me on this one. We now know that the leaves and bark are full of cyanogenic glucosides and volatile neurotoxic alkaloids: sambugrine and conicine. This could explain the basis of at least two of the superstitions, of never sleeping under the elder tree and of never burning its wood. I can see how a person might feel at least unwell having smelt the narcotic scent laced with cyanide compounds in their sleep, all night. Another might feel a more hallucinogenic effect and might see the faery king after all!  And if its wood was burnt indoors I imagine it would make the occupants feel rather faint or nauseous for the same reasons. It makes for a poor fuel with a small flame and little heat, and if any stems made their way into the fire, due to their hollow structure, they would spit angrily (like an angry witch or the devil one might say). 

So I take its ill reputation with a pinch of salt and feel glad that it still plays a part in our lives and our seasons. I think of the birds that might be eating the berries to combat their illness. I think of its medicinal virtues that are available to us if only we know them. Thanks to J.K Rowling, I think of the most powerful wand ever made. I always ask permission or give thanks, hoping to keep some quirky traditions alive. And just for rumour, I might even seek and sit under an elder tree on Midsummer Eve. Now that the elderflowers are almost gone, I look at the trees soon to be laden with delicious berries hoping that my syrup attempts will be more successful than my cordials.

Trees have long been entwined with storytelling. Not only do they provide the perfect backrest when reading a good book, their history and mythology has also inspired works of fiction for thousands of years. In her book, Gossip from the Forest, Sara Maitland suggests that the mysterious secrets and silences, gifts and perils of the forests were both the background and the source of fairytales; Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, The Seven Dwarves. 

Trees are also seen to be sacred, with healing powers. In The Sacred Tree (a small but beautiful book that focuses on 13 native trees of the British Isles and their corresponding 13 moons and place on the wheel of the year's cycle), Glennie Kindred suggests ways to communicate with tree spirits, as well as exploring the spiritual and healing qualities each tree has to teach us. The book is full of wonderful line drawings and includes how to grow and plant trees, too.

The Woodland Trust seeks to continue this deserved reverence, and is currently urging tree lovers to stump up nominations to become the next Tree of the Year. The Brimmon Oak in Wales narrowly missed out on being crowned the 2017 European Tree of the Year and the Woodland Trust is hoping to go one step better next time around. People are asked to nominate a tree ‘with a story’; this could be a link to a historical figure or event, a tree at the heart of a community or one which is just well loved. Winning trees will benefit from a tree care award of up to £1,000 thanks to support from players of People’s Postcode Lottery. This can be used for arboricultural surveys or other maintenance, interpretation or even to support a community event in celebration of the tree.

Inspired by the celebration of trees, we'll be featuring our own stories in the journal over the next few months. First up is Mugdha from Kindred + Wild, as she takes on the elder in next week's post. I'd love to hear from you if you've got a tree story to tell. It could be a specific tree, or a whole species. It could be associated with literature and tales of your childhood, or maybe you just pass it each morning on your way to work? Get in touch by emailing contact@creativecountryside.com. If you'd like to nominate a tree for Tree of the Year, you have until the end of July to take part, and can find out more here. 

Today I'm introducing the work of Oska Von Ruhland, a creative writing graduate from Cardiff who's written about merfolk. Enjoy...

They used to wash up on the beach occasionally. It wasn’t very common and there was always a spectacle when they did. Usually the Marine Rescue Squad would show up and pull them back into the sea. MRS had these huge net things, and cars that could drive into the water, so that they didn’t have to touch them. They always looked confused to be there, and it wasn’t like you could talk to them to tell them the way the tide works. Sea creatures don’t understand why going near the shallows is a bad idea.

            It hasn’t happened for a few years. I almost miss them.

            I have to walk along the cliffs to get home. Every now and then I glance down at the golden sands where the sunset shimmers on the waves and turns the deep dark blue sea into a dancing fire. I used to use this time to remember those days. And then one day, I didn't have to remember any more.

            One of them had washed up high on the sand, thrashing its tail everywhere with its mouth agape. It was gasping and trying to scrabble back to the water. I zig-zagged down the steep path towards the beach and it stared at me with its wide yellow eyes. I had no clue what I was supposed to do. It looked like it had been there a while; its skin was dry and crusty with dirt and the more it moved the more tired it looked. The MRS would take too long to arrive. I tried to get my arms around it to move it, but it started to screech and waved around more. I hated it when they did that.

            “It’s okay, don’t be scared,” I tried to tell it.

            There’s no safe place to grab them from. The tail moves around too much and everything else is spikes or teeth. I had my arms around its middle and its webbed spines jabbed my stomach as it wriggled. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold, or for its scales to be so smooth along its belly. I also wasn’t expecting the strong salty, fishy stink that filled my nostrils when I held it close.

            Suddenly a thought occurred to me and I said, “Wait here, I have an idea.”

            I got up in a rush and ran around the beach until I found a lost bucket. I filled it with sea water and ran back, then upturned the bucket over the wriggling creature. It flinched in surprise and stilled as the cool liquid spread over it.

            “There, now you won’t dry out,” I said. It seemed happy.

            As the water washed away all the sand and dirt, I saw the true colour of its scales. It was aqua blue with a white belly. Purple stripes ran all along its body, along its jaws and all the way down its tail. Its fins were nearly see-through with thick blue spines, and the tuft of hair on its head was a mix of pale yellow and green. It had a broad, flat nose and a beautifully decorated brow over huge golden eyes.

            I crouched down next to it and asked, “What’s your name?”

            It didn’t answer me. Instead it parted its thin lips and grinned with all its pointy teeth.

            I was disappointed, even though I knew they couldn’t talk. At least it was calm now, and wasn’t flailing everywhere. I began to pat at the sand, trying to make it as smooth and flat as possible. When I had done what I could do, I filled the bucket up again and poured it over the sand, making it smooth and slippery.

            I grabbed the sea creature’s tail and it struggled for a moment, but then saw that I was pulling it towards the sea. The fins were rubbery and twitched a little under my touch .It was lighter than I thought it would be. The slippery sand made it easy to get to the tide foam. It slid easily across the wet sand like a snake on ice.

            As soon as it was in the water it wriggled out of my grasp and jerked its tail once, shooting forwards before vanishing into the dark watery abyss. I was alone again.

            When I finally got home, I made sure to call the MRS about what happened. They set up nets over the next few days all along the coast designed to keep the larger sea creatures from washing up onto the shore. It was set so deep and far back that even if they did swim up to the nets, we wouldn’t see them. Still, it didn’t stop me from looking down at the beach every time I walked home.

After that, I never saw any of the Merfolk ever again.

You can mark the progress of the seasons, and indeed the farming year, simply by the appearance of the fields. Here in the Pennines we don’t have much by way of arable farming so the welcome sight of autumn stubble isn’t something to be anticipated on nature’s calendar. But my garden gate opens straight into a meadow, which is indeed a lovely thing. In winter we have sheep poking their noses through the bars, trying to reach the tantalising flower borders. In spring the lambs arrive. But not this year. Instead, the lambs are in another field and we have a hay meadow. The grass is already waist-high in parts (there’s an unmarked path right through the middle so we often wander up to the hills this way).

It was whilst looking out of the kitchen window and beyond the gate, watching these long grasses rippling mesmerically in the wind, that I started thinking about summers past. As children we’d make little nests in the meadows, lying down and watching the grass and buttercups waving above us. The simple pleasure to be had from looking back at the path you’d made (even more satisfying when the grass is wet). Sitting on an upturned bucket in mucky jodhpurs making flower crowns.

In this landlocked valley the rippling of long grasses in the breeze is our alternative to sand dunes. A graphite-grey sky with bleached stems below, as far as the eye can see, is one of my favourite late-summer sights. I find it so evocative – to stand in the middle of it all is as close as I’ll ever get to a meditative state.

It isn’t just about grass, of course. Although these in themselves are fascinating; slow down, get up close and notice the sheer variety of form and colour. Meadows, like the moors above, are an intricate tapestry of plants and flowers. At this time of year we have buttercups, clover, sorrel, cuckoo flowers and vetch to name but a few. And all punctuated with fleshier clumps of dock, nettle and thistle.

But what about those of us who live in more urban areas? Where do we go in search of the great unmown?

Many parks and public green spaces are neatly lawned. Sometimes they’ll have wilder fringes if you stray from the tarmac. Go and explore the further reaches (worthwhile, as the outer edges are often much quieter too). A place I visit often is the churchyard in our village. Over half of it is gloriously wild, left to its own devices to grow and set seed. It’s filled with dancing buttercups and sedges, much of the ground being quite marshy underfoot, as well as red clover, purple wild orchids and Bistort. There are even some rogue forget-me-nots in there, apt for a place where people have been laid to rest over the centuries.

Now is the time to go out and find a wildflower meadow, or at least a little piece of one in an unlikely place. There are few things as truly magical as walking waist-deep through tall grass. Children love it too. And be sure to sit (or even better, lie) down and watch the sky from a secret little space, surrounded by nodding flowers and busy insects.

Today I'm featuring the lovely Sarah from Say! Little Hen. Living in Queensland, Australia, she's passionate about organic and sustainable products and living, and is a woman who wears many hats when it comes to her creative business! 

Eleanor: Tell me a little bit about Say! Little Hen, and how it came into being.

Sarah: My business incorporates three of my favourite things - knitting, writing and baking sourdough. Under the one banner of Say! Little Hen I write a blog and run my online store, where I sell my knitting patterns, the eBook I wrote on spelt sourdough and now also natural fibre yarns. Selling my knitting designs was quite unintentional. I had a few designs already made, as I had previously knitted and sold items on my little market stall as a small hobby business. I was asked one day if I would sell the pattern for one of my most popular designs, Tea Mouse, and since I was no longer making and selling, I decided why not! From there I converted more of my scribbled notes into legible patterns, offering them for sale online and now, 2 years later, I am completely in love with designing and selling knitting patterns. Having an online yarn shop is something I’ve had on my “one-day” list for years, and at the beginning of this year, I decided there was no reason not to just go ahead and do it! So I did, and I’m loving growing this tiny little business day by day and seeing where it takes me.

E: You knit, design, bake and blog. Which do you prefer and why?

S: It’s almost impossible for me to choose between them, as each is fulfilling in its own way. Writing allows me to empty the thoughts out of my head, or focus in on one particular subject. Baking is both relaxing and rewarding - a slice of fresh sourdough with butter, enjoyed with a cup of tea is akin to a slice of cake! And knitting is delightful on so many levels - selecting the wool, watching the fabric grow beneath my hands. I love that I can take it anywhere and that it’s a good conversation starter when I do pull my needles out in public.

I guess, very narrowly leading in front, designing would have to be my favourite. It still amazes me when an idea I had in my head comes to life on my needles. When the sketching, calculating and frustrating process of casting on several times is over, and the design is sitting in front of me, all knitted up, looking exactly like (or sometimes better) than my original idea - it makes me smile and feel far more clever than I probably should. And getting to share that with other knitters in the form of a pattern is the icing on the cake.

 E: Where do you draw your inspiration from?

S: It depends entirely on what I’m working on. I’d say most of the time it comes from everything around me - the chickens, the bush and farmland around my house, the weather even.

It depends on whether I am choosing to work with a specific material; if that’s the case then I try to make something that shows it off to it’s best ability. But if I have an idea for a particular project, then I seek out a yarn that will compliment it perfectly. My latest design was one where the project had to match the yarn, and so I’ve ended up with a chocolate inspired beanie. It incorporates cables and is, of course, finished off with a pompom. I’m rather proud of this one and am dying to share it!

 E: What does an average day look like for you right now? 

S: The days can vary a lot, but no matter what they always start with tea, and whilst I drink that tea I am pestered by my more boisterous Border Collie to throw her toy for her - my other collie goes back to sleep if there are no birds to chase; she’s perpetually hoping for a sleep-in.

I usually check my emails and social media quickly before going to feed the chickens, which doubles as a walk for my dogs. I love this time outside as it gives me time to think about what needs doing for the day, mentally draft blog posts or article ideas and also think about my responses to any more complicated emails. Most of my best blog post ideas have been thought up in the chicken pen!

After replying to emails, messages and comments on social media, and perhaps posting on Instagram, I usually have breakfast and do one small housework job (hard to ignore when you work from home). I pack orders around lunchtime and post them in the afternoon, between that there is time for writing, talking to customers online (something I spend a lot of time doing), taking or editing photos and doing other general admin-type tasks.

By late afternoon it’s time for more tea and Border Collie time - they’re very good at making sure they get ample attention! I usually post on Instagram in the early evening and hop back on there later, as I find that’s when it’s most active during the week. I usually knit or squeeze in more writing if I have a deadline coming up too.

The best days are the ones when a yarn shipment is due to arrive. I live out of town so the couriers don’t deliver here, they drop my stock at a tiny service station ten minutes drive away, so I always stalk my tracking numbers like a crazy lady when they’re due to arrive, and jump in the car and collect them as soon as they come. It’s very exciting!

E: Tell us about your workspace - where can we find you?

S: My workspace is spread throughout the house. I've a small desk in the corner of my bedroom where my designing process begins on paper, and I also make up sample cards and do handwriting I need to (lists, first drafts, article ideas). Along with my diary and to-do lists, I keep a collection of things on my desk that make me happy, in turn inspiring me as I find happiness key to creativity. They include books, a little mushroom ornament that was a gift from a lovely friend, an inspirational quote card from my sister, design swatches and even my favourite childhood toy - a bear by the name of Winslow, who was the first thing I ever wrote about (I still have his little short story tucked away) and is now looking decidedly worn! Odd collections of things tend to collect on the end of the desk too - stamps, ribbons, sticky tape - there’s even a candle there at the moment! If I can’t sleep at night I tend to sit at my desk and either write or do some knitting sketches.

If I'm working on a pattern I usually do so on my bed - it's the only place in the house where I can comfortably knit for a prolonged period of time, which is important when I’m designing. It looks a lot like relaxing when I'm doing this but often it's the exact opposite! One of these days I’m going to take my knitting into a furniture shop and try out different armchairs to find one perfect for knitting in!

Yarn stock is usually unpacked on the dining room table, where I do waste some time patting and admiring it. Sometimes I pack orders here, too. And the computer is in a shared office space, overlooking the verandah where I do all of my product photography. I take my little piece of linen out there that I use as a background, all of my products that need photographing and balance one or two pieces of plywood painted white against a little step ladder, I use them to reflect light which reduces shadowing. My yarn is stored in sealed boxes in the linen cupboard & the top of my wardrobe - storage is limited here! Sometimes things being spread around makes tasks slower, but everything is achieved in the end and it’s great to be able to work with what I have.

 E: Why is it important for you to use natural fibres, and to choose ethical, sustainable and organic materials wherever possible?

S: I could fill a novel with the reasons why I think organic and sustainable choices are best. It’s something that’s talked about a lot now, and sometimes I think that makes people a little deaf to what’s actually being said. But there really is a need to do things organically, and find sustainable ways. In all honesty, I don’t really understand the need for chemical farming when the world functioned without it for a very long time, and modern farms have proven you can still farm that way.

With yarn, there really is nothing better than good quality natural fibres to work with.

Wool has this horrid reputation of being itchy, and I do acknowledge that there are plenty of woollen things out there giving testament to this bad rep. But there’s also a lot of good wool out there, and it’s the most deliciously soft stuff you can imagine.

There’s just something wonderful about natural fibres - they are more comforting, have more depth almost, than anything created synthetically. And when they are grown organically they have come from such healthy animals that the yarn is top-notch quality. It’s blissful to work with and wonderful to wear. I just can’t get enough of it!

 E: What’s so great about sourdough?! And what’s the one piece of advice you would give to novice bakers?

S: I love sourdough because of the flavour, and it’s versatility. Did you know you can make cakes and pastries with sourdough? It really is amazing stuff.

I’ve given quite a lot of advice to novice sourdough bakers, and the main thing I always tell people is not to be frightened of it. Sourdough seems to be something that becomes so scary to so many people, but it’s really not that complicated, and if you feel like it is, search for different methods or find simpler ways. Sourdough making should be fun, easy and simple - remember it’s only flour and water.

 E: What plans do you have for the business in the future?

S: Oh, so many plans! I’d really love to teach knitting classes, and perhaps even put together an online course for those who don’t live nearby. I love being able to help and encourage people with their craft because it’s such a fun and wonderful thing to do and I hate the idea of people giving up because they couldn’t get the help they needed. I’d love to teach sourdough classes for the same reasons, too.

I’d really love to also see my business thriving enough to perhaps employ a few people, although I do plan to stay intentionally small. And perhaps, in the very far off future, I’d stock my own brand of yarn. Whether it would be yarn I had dyed myself, grown or hand spun I’m not sure of, but one or all of those things would be simply amazing.

 You can find Sarah on Instagram and Facebook. Visit her blog and online shop.

If you'd like your creative business to be featured in a similar post on Creative Countryside, get in touch by emailing contact@creativecountryside.com. There is no payment involved; we just like to showcase creative talent whenever we can!

Welcome to summer!

Summer Rituals

• Make sure you always have a batch of homemade lemonade in the fridge for cooling you down on hot sunny afternoons (or to take along on a picnic!).
   
• Eat outside as often as possible. Even if it's just ten minutes with your morning coffee!
   
• Choose organic fruit and veg. There's no better time to take advantage of veg box schemes than in the summer, when most products will come from the UK.

 

3 Seasonal Recipes

Strawberry spinach salad
Beetroot, chilli + rosemary spaghetti
Gooseberry and elderflower ice-cream
 

3 Books for Summer

1. The Otter's Tale (Simon Cooper)
2. A Sky Full of Birds (Matt Merritt)
3. The Summer Book (Tove Jansson)

This post is a shorter version of our summer email sent out to members of our free community. Want to join? Click here - we'd love to have you!

How quickly spring seems to have shifted into summer this year, seemingly with no hesitation at all. The cherry blossom and wisteria have vanished and now, on this island, we have been left in that lingering transition period of faded spring flowers but not-quite-yet-summer-blooms. The first of May marks Beltane in the Gaelic calendar, the pastoral beginning of summer and this gives way to a flurry of summer celtic-revival and Pagan inspired festivals celebrating the coming of the warmer months. In the Gaelic calendar, there are four major festivals; Samhain, Imbolc, Beltane & Lughnasadh, one for each season with both Beltane (beginning of summer) & Samhain (beginning of winter) being the most prominent. The celebration of such festivals haven’t so much as endured but rather experienced a revival since the 20th century, particularly in Celtic regions of the Kingdom such as Scotland, Ireland, Isle of Man, Cornwall & Wales.

According to Folklorists and historians, the original records of Beltane are thought to come from Ireland and describe rituals that were believed to protect cattle, crops and people by creating a special ‘Beltane fire’ from which the household fires would be lit and maintained. People were believed to leap through these flames, pass their cattle between the bespelled bonfires for protection and gather for large feasts where the people would decorate themselves and their doors and homes with with the yellow May Flowers to evoke the protective fire. Some of the feast food was offered to the Aos Si (the fairy people or supernatural race) in order to please them. It was believed that it was around both Beltane and Samhain that the Aos Si were most active which falls inline with some of our modern Halloween lore & beliefs in certain sectors that it’s during these phases of the year that the spirit world touches or comes near to ours. 

In the 1980s, Edinburgh began celebrating the festival in the city at its famous Calton Hill. The Beltane fire society formed and each year on April 30th, the city comes alive with fire, myth and drama in a spectacular arts & cultural festival inspired by the folklore of Beltane.

In Cornwall where I grew up, there have always been a constant flow of seasonal festivals inspired by Celtic lore. Although we don’t so much widely observe the popular and well known Gaelic festivals such as Beltane and Samhain in our streets, we have our own equivalents in which involve the entire community and borrow greatly from the Celtic traditions, myths and enchanting landscape that the county holds so dearly and with such pride. These festivals blend the modern with the traditional and are embedded in our culture and seasonal calendar, for even the most culturally unaware and disinterested teenager will be involved in some way or another with the shenanigans of Helston Flora day. Flora day is our own festival marking the beginning of summer and held in the market town of Helston at the gateway to the Lizard.

For this day each year, the houses of the town decorate their doors and garden walls with beautiful wreaths of flowers so that the streets are spilling with colour and blooms - a spring and more natural equivalent of the modern christmas tradition of hanging electric light displays on the front of your house. Lilly of the Valley is the traditional flower of this festival and young boys and girls will be adorned in white, dancing together in the streets to the songs played by the marching band, flowers in their hair.

Perhaps one of Cornwall’s biggest celtic-revival events however is based further west in the seaside town of Penzance. Golowan (The Cornish word for Mid-Summer) is a week long cultural & arts festival that has brought back to life so many of the ancient customs such as lighting and gathering around bonfires, parading an Obby-Oss (Penglaz) fireworks, lighting torches and carrying giant sculptures & lanterns crafted by the local children through the streets along with a marching band and decorated dancers. The original Golowan, celebrated before its abolition in the late 19th century was very much similar to Beltane in that fires were believed to ward off evil spirits and misfortune and the people would leap between the flames or dance the embers in order to secure their safety from such darkness. These days, although Golowan promotes and celebrates much of the Celtic traditions and stories, it’s expanded throughout the town with a funfair that spills onto the quayside by the iconic art deco lido, live music and open air theatre is performed throughout the town and market stalls selling a wide variety of colourful wares & local food produce line the cobbled sloping streets.

The festival attracts over ten thousand visitors each year and has become somewhat of a tourist attraction. It’s littler known more austere mid-winter equivalent, Montol, takes place of the 21st December which has a much more Celtic and local vibe, held in the dark of night around a bonfire that overlooks the twinkling lights of the sleepy sea town. My home county, undoubtedly like many other of the Celtic regions on this island holds firmly onto its cultural festivals that are seeing an increasing popularity and finding their place in modern day culture. As we as a society yearn to reconnect with our roots and nature, we find ourselves fascinated with these ancient festivals and traditions that give us a glimpse into another realm - one of whimsy and half-magic- ones that find their origins in a time where the people were ruled entirely by the natural world and its cycles.

Golowan festival takes place between 23rd - 28th June in Penzance, Cornwall. Other similar festivals in the county include Helston Flora day (8th May) Padstow Obby-Oss day (May 1st) and the St Ives September festival.

The woods by my house don’t have a name.

I was map-gazing at 4am when I learnt this.

By 5, I’m still slightly angry – or if not angry, then

Bemused

How could somewhere so important be so

easily dismissed

to warrant not even a patch of green

on a cartographer’s screen

now etched permanently, ironically, into ‘the real’

by smartphone scribblings

Because that place is

everything;

The root from where my half-formed self

half formed itself

through years of afternoon wanderings

Spring, summer, autumn – break

Something happened,

between the dew of March

                           and the July heat

                                         and the September mulch

of modest, glorious trees.

I fought through leaves, and brambles

cleared my lungs by the Kenwyn stream

marching ever upwards to defeat

but starting here, proudly,

Rightly. 

This is where I come to write, to lie, to listen

to perch, and burrow

away from dog-walkers, ramblers, fellow wanderers

To them, this place is theirs.

To me, it is mine –

Simple.

Sublime.

I grew here.

And I have loved here, too.

Brought friends

to see what I have seen –

the place in my dreams.

I regretted it, endlessly

You shouldn’t let others see your dreams

or even know that they can;

like when I saw that girl by the tree – 

           – oh, the ignominy –

It must have been the same for her

But I have forgotten all that now, 

and by morning,

I’m clearer – accepting, even –

of the anonymity,

              the casual, relentless being

of this stretch of land,

so beautifully ignored

Because in my head,

it is still wild, undiscovered

A secret garden

where I can look over my kingdom –

amid the yellow, coconut gorse

              and the dew,

                             and the hills of this valley –

I too become uncharted,

Embedded.

And now, it pleases me

that somewhere so important

can go so unseen

to warrant not even a patch of green

on a cartographer’s screen

How many more hidden, personal wonders

must there be?

As close as this,

                            as deep,

                                           as needed?

It is testament to our world,

that something so incredible

is so effacingly normal –

wonder in ubiquity

God’s divine, humble scribblings

The woods by my house don’t have a name.

Or, the name is silence:

            it would die if you said it.

Because it is inseparable –

through the seasons, it remains.

An unrequiting love.

And despite all this, despite everything:

I still believe

          I am the only one who knows about it.

Richard from Salvation describes his furniture as 'style with soul', and today I'm thrilled to feature this small, creative business with a real passion for an artisan approach...

Eleanor: Tell me a little bit about your business, and how it came into being.

Richard: Salvation (www.salvationfurniture.com) started about four years ago. I’d worked in publishing and communications for years, but felt a deep need to try something altogether different. A new challenge. I’ve always been a real auction addict, bidding on forlorn-looking pieces of country pine to repair and rejuvenate in my workshop. This passion for old and character furniture was the catalyst to do something bigger. And while I wanted to create furniture with an instantly natural warmth and convivial feel, I didn’t want it to be too quaint and ‘chocolate-box-cottage’. I decided that reclaimed and character wood combined with sleek and angular steel was the perfect partnership of old and new.

E: You describe your furniture as ‘style with soul’ – what do you mean by this?

R: It’s a real artisan approach. I’m working with my own hands or with other small makers, so it’s not a huge factory operation churning out replica pieces. Everything Salvation makes is unique. The steel will have the grinding marks left in place and each piece of wood is individual with its own character - that’s the appeal to me. I don’t like things to be too ordered, but more natural, rustic, relaxed and lived-in for a welcoming and ‘soulful’ feel. They’re the kind of tables where family and friends can gather, relax, catch-up and share good food. The heart of the home.

E: Where do you draw your inspiration from?

R: I love the look of antique country furniture, like Welsh stick chairs and oak refectory tables. They’re the kind of pieces that have so much character and look wonderful when placed in a modern setting, as a great counterpoint to clean white walls and airy spaces. They have an instant charm. I try to replicate that look, but also giving it a modern twist to make it relevant to today’s interiors.

E: What does an average day look like for you right now? Tell us a bit about your workspace too.

R: The average day, like any small business owner, is about wearing a huge array of hats. That can mean sanding wood, answering email enquiries, driving frames to the local powder coaters, wrapping orders for delivery, trying to squeeze in some Instagram posts and tweets, updating the website, paying invoices… It’s a long list that doesn’t seem to get shorter! My small workshop is tucked away up a winding road in the wilds of Suffolk, near to Woodbridge. It’s a former pig shed (the glamour!) piled high with wood and tools. The radio is usually on, the dog likes a snooze in the doorway, and I’m partial to a good coffee break when the above list allows!

E: Any favourite projects or designs?

R: I’m currently looking at using character timber, alongside reclaimed wood. I’ve always loved the look of character oak, which retains the odd knots and whirls in the grain. It’s a naturally beautiful work and very warm when finished. Some recent examples are the Lily oak dining table (named after my daughter) and the Kenton oak dining table, which has a ‘farmhouse feel’ with a modern edge. Elsewhere, I like the edges on birch plywood, and have recently created the Hoo dining table, which has a distinctly pared back, Scandi feel.

E: Briefly take us through the process of ordering a bespoke piece of furniture.

R: It’s a really simple process and allows customers to get, for example, a dining table that fits their space perfectly, rather than having to compromise with a standard, mass-produced piece. A customer contacts me with their preferred dimensions and we chat about the style of frame they would like and the wood for the top. Once everything has been agreed, it then takes around 6-8 weeks (depending on how busy we are) to get the table made and delivered to them.

E: What plans do you have for the business in the future?

R: To carry on making pieces that make a home feel warm and inviting. People live incredibly busy lives today so it’s important that they take a little time each day to shift down a gear, switch off the gadgets, relax and catch-up. A modern rustic dining table is the perfect place to do that. I’d also love to extend the range of items Salvation stocks; so working with other small makers would be brilliant.

You can find Salvation on Instagram and Twitter. Visit their website here.

If you'd like your creative business to be featured in a similar post on Creative Countryside, get in touch by emailing contact@creativecountryside.com. There is no payment involved; we just like to showcase creative talent whenever we can!

Common name(s): bluebell; English bluebell; British bluebell; granfer griggles; cra'tae

Scientific name: Hyacinthoides non-scripta

Wild flowers are nature’s way of encouraging us to get outside and explore. One renowned sight of Spring, is the blankets of purple bluebells which sweep across UK woodlands, revealing an impressive sight and smell!

Bluebells are a great value to our wildlife and many species of insect feed on the sweetly-scented drooping flower for nectar. According to folklore, legend says that floors of bluebells are complexly entwined with fairy enchantments and it’s their magical appearance that has often been illustrated in books and films. Unsurprisingly, numerous British surveys have reported that the bluebell is one of the nation's best-loved flowers and it's now, in May, that they are in full bloom.

Many choose to visit bluebell spots across the country including The Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, where these photographs were taken. Other locations to discover are Arlington in Sussex, Skomer in Wales, Hole Park Gardens in Kent, Hackfall Wood in Yorkshire and Winkworth Arboretum in Surrey, to name a few. To check out more beautiful bluebell walks visit https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/lists/bluebell-woods-near-you

We’re very lucky in these parts as there’s access to plenty of beautiful woodland and open moorland. That means that as well as the ubiquitous blackberries, we can go picking whinberries (wild bilberries) on the hills in late summer – always something to look forward to and well worth the painstaking job of plucking the tiny, blue-black fruits once you’ve collected enough for a pie or crumble.

But right now it’s the perfect time to go looking for another seasonal favourite: spring greens, in the form of wild garlic and nettle tops.

I live near a town called Ramsbottom. It’s named after the ramson, or wild garlic, which grows prolifically in the area and Ramsbottom translates as ‘Valley of Wild Garlic’ (incidentally, it’s also becoming known as a bit of a foodie destination but that’s another story).

We go picking wild garlic every spring. Last year I made a batch of wild garlic butter, delicious despite its rather unconventional colour. The taste of ramsons is much milder than the usual bulbs we cook with, and it lends itself well to soups, fish and chicken dishes. You can serve it as you would spinach, simply wilted down, or mix the chopped fresh leaves with mayonnaise or soft cheese.

You’ll often smell the plant it before you see it - lush emerald green leaves giving off that distinctively pungent scent. Wild garlic grows in the woods in large clumps, and as the season progresses it produces starry white flowers. These are also edible, but once the flowers are plentiful the leaves will be getting past their best so it’s always wisest to pick early. Here in the North, that’s usually from around early April onwards.

It’s become a yearly tradition to take my little one out foraging over the Easter holidays. We always take a pair of rubber gloves so that in addition to the garlic, we can pick nettle tops. I make sure we take them from above ‘dog level’ for obvious reasons, so fortunately there’s a patch of nettles growing along the top of a dry stone wall where we can pick to our heart’s content.

I’m a great advocate of herbalism and natural remedies. If you read up on the health-giving properties of the stinging nettle, you’ll be very impressed. It’s high in iron, B complex vitamins as well as vitamins C, A, and D, and contains calcium, magnesium, phosphorus and beta-carotene. It’s also known as a diuretic, contains anti-histamine and has many astringent and anti-inflammatory uses. 

Again, it’s a good idea to collect nettles early in the growing season. It isn’t generally recommended to pick and use them once they’re at the flowering stage (and not to take them as a supplement during the early stages of pregnancy, or if you have low blood pressure or low blood sugar).

The leaves can be made into a tea either by steeping them in hot water (try with a little lemon and honey if the flavour’s not to your taste) or by drying the nettles and saving them in an airtight jar for future use.

Of course, you could be more adventurous and use them as an ingredient (always cook them first!) Nettle soup is a pretty well-known option, but as with wild garlic leaves they’re similar to spinach so can be added to risotto or even used as a pizza topping.

Once we’ve gathered our greens we always head home and make a huge pan of soup with chicken stock, the (well-washed) nettles and garlic, lots of chopped vegetables and plenty of seasoning. My little boy gets incredibly excited about the whole process and I’m always amazed when, despite his severe dislike of all things salad, he’ll happily wolf down a bowl of cooked leaves just picked from the woods.

Naturally, it’s all about his involvement in the process: carrying the basket, spotting the plants, scrambling up the banks to gather them. That’s the whole point of foraging. Although much-derided as a middle-class fad, it actually brings you closer to nature and seasonality. Searching for food, finding it, making use of what’s growing. Zero food miles or packaging, pesticides or cost. It’s what’s been done for generations. And if it encourages a four-year-old to eat his greens… well, I’m happy with that.

Reliably unpredictable was the forecast as the freezing winter turned into a decorative pattern of humble flowers and vast green expanses, eventually blanketed by an unexpected five inches of snow, delivered fashionably late - well past the middle of April.

The transformation of the landscape was gradual, from the ochre, sepia and russet hues to that of a verdant green which magically appeared overnight.

As spring slowly, but surely, takes the main stage, dandelions now cover random fields with a carpet of blazing yellow, while the lungwort and stinging nettles sit in the shade of fruit trees along boundary lines and fences. These unpresuming plants are waiting for the bees, and the humans respectively, to appreciate their pollen and essential minerals.

In village tradition, the gardens are being ploughed and turned with the use of horse power or tractor. The potatoes are slumbering in neat rows, waiting patiently for soil temperatures to rise; lettuce is planted closer to home, the peas and spinach too. Yet when we look beyond the conventional vegetable fare, we realize that extensive foraging is viable here in Romania. Beyond picking basketfuls of mushrooms and learning to recognize plants that are new to us, harvesting from the wild is also a wonderful way to interact with the land and the multitude of native plants it has to offer.

Already, we are adding alfalfa to salads, drinking hearty broths of raspberry stem tea (the leaves are just beginning to emerge) and dandelion leaves can be harvested by the bushelful – if only people knew what they were missing!

A warmer and sunnier spell in March saw us hiking halfway up to the crest to tap a stand of birch trees for water, apă de mesteacăn, which allowed us to taste for the first time the cleansing earthiness and energy of trees.

Red squirrels, still in their winter black fur, can be seen cracking the random walnut in the lower branches of fir trees, while the cuckoo calls from the depths of the woodlands where the sheep and shepherds roam. The hoopoe, Upupa epops, can be heard where the orchards sprawl to the west as they proclaim ownership to their territory.

All the while chickens are clucking and laying their daily farm fresh eggs, scythes are being honed, wooden rakes are carried on hardened shoulders and the work that stops only on Sundays and holidays, goes on at a steady pace, for there are always animals to feed, equipment to be repaired and seeds to be planted.

Nature is displaying her beguiling abundance with infinite blossoms as the bees and various flying insects do their best to keep up with the wind, the cold, the heat and the constantly changing weather. They must adapt, and so shall we, for although this spring is short and sweet, summer will be quickly upon us. One can already sense it by the amount of tourists coming to visit and fall in love with this quaint and delightful village of Breb.

As we experience one revitalizing season, then another, we know that patience for summer will reward us with fruits from the land and experiences to last a lifetime.