The Stories of Trees: An Ode to Jefferson Pines
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In today's tree story, Steffany shares her ode to and love for the scent of Jefferson Pines. If you want to take part in this mini-series, head back to the original post for more details.

My tree-loving soul was born on the breeze floating through Jefferson Pines, living in southern California at a little less than 7,000 feet above sea level. A new job in California took me far from the midwest, where I grew up near flat farmlands, where trees were planted as windbreaks, for apple harvests in the fall, or for barriers between houses. I had never experienced native trees, planted where their seeds fell due to wind and wildlife and able to grow to heights well beyond 100 feet. When I exited the van which had driven me to my new job, my first thought was how dark the area seemed despite the morning hour.

As I looked up, I stood in awe. Shrouded in shade I stood below the tallest pine trees I had ever seen, their rich red/brown bark looked like puzzle pieces and their crowns the most beautiful shade of blue-green needles. Their pine cones littered the ground and were the size of cantaloupes and small watermelons, missiles I would learn to dodge when hearing them crash through the branches on their way to the ground.

The trees' height and locations formed a sanctuary - the trunks were the walls, the ceiling was their branches offering small glimpses of the sky, and the floor, a wondrous, crunchy brown carpet made of fallen needles.

I stood and let the southern California breeze wash over me. I inhaled the scent of the dead needles, burning them into my memory and smelled... vanilla? Butterscotch? What was that?

“Smell the tree,” someone said. Hesitant but curious, I walked to the nearest tree, gently moved my nose close to her mosaic bark and smelled. My eyes were closed and it was vanilla, the scent of my childhood, the essence of cookies and sweetness and warmth and familiar and love. I was over 1,800 miles from home and yet…I opened my eyes.

“Wow,” was all I could manage.

“Jefferson pines, that’s how you tell…you smell their bark,” the person said and smiled.

Back home as a child I would climb the trees in my backyard, would rake the vibrant yellow and orange and red leaves in fall for money, and watch cedar waxwings eat the berries from trees. As an adult, I spent the next nine months living in and among the Jefferson Pines, gathering her pinecones, standing at the edges of her walls to view the San Jacinto mountain peaks we would hike and climb, sleeping underneath her protective arms, and watching as walls of them burned in a local forest fire. As a child, trees were a part of my world. As an adult, these Jefferson Pines were my world. I was forever changed, my view of trees moving from one of utility to one of admiration.

A few years ago I was in Colorado, near Pikes Peak and as I exited the car, the familiar scent of dead pine needles took me back twenty years, to my lost soul, so unsure of my future, right out of college with no plans and a temporary job in southern California. I walked to the nearest tree, laid my arms around her trunk, leaned close and inhaled. The lack of a vanilla scent was disappointing at first. I knew it would be a long shot as Jefferson Pines seem to grow mainly along the western coast of the United States, but I had to try. I stepped back, the crunching under foot familiar, looked up into the spire of needles above, saw snippets of blue sky through the small windows of adjacent branches and inhaled a familiar peace. I sat down in her shade, picked up the small pine cones scattered about and remembered.

My love for trees was born on the breeze of Jefferson Pines. Before her, a tree was a tree was a tree. After her, a tree was a maple or blue spruce, a weeping willow or a crab-apple, a home for bluebirds to raise their young and squirrels to find shelter and doves to build their nests, where bluejays chased sparrows in their quest for food, where tire swings are hung for my children and joy is found among the branches of our Maples, where curiosity is aroused, where respite beckons me, and where my soul breathes and finds peace.

Steffany Cartellone is an explorer of nature, relishing the things she sees on her daily walks with her kids. She is currently sitting outside on a cool summer morning, sipping hot coffee and watching a mother bluejay teaching her young how to find bugs and seeds. For her, life doesn’t get much better than these moments. Her blog, thoughts about intentional living, can be found at a-snails-pace.com and her first novel, she hopes, will be published in 2018.

Eleanor Cheetham
Rays to Land on My Face

Today we're featuring the poetry of Lizzie Parsons, an English Literature with Creative Writing graduate currently working for Wild Learning. She has also written for New Nature magazine (which you should definitely check out if you aren't already a reader - latest issue here), amongst other publications. Find her on twitter here.

Out here

with a smile it is like paradise – my

tomato hot house smells amazing, like

those silly sparkly gems I was writing

about inside. Out here

it is so green, and as you walk

up the outside steps the temperature

rises and the smell of warm summer floral

air hits your nose. The sun sends

down its rays to land on my face,

the air is warm,

imagine water and the woods, sweat

trickling down the inside of my

t-shirt.

As I walk

into this space I see damselflies

scattering in the sunlit air,

flies and butterflies.

I see

buttercups and clovers, purple vetch,

and my floating favourites, the

dandelion seeds.

 

The Stories of Trees: Hazel

Today the lovely Amelia shares her tree story. If you want to take part in this mini-series, head back to the original post for more details.

Trees. How different the undulating landscape of Hampshire would look without their majestic, towering presence upon the backdrop of the countryside. There is a source of life that exists beside our own, living within the branches and even inside the bark of the tree itself. Birds call them home. Insects their habitat. Wildlife, their shelter and food supply.

But as for us, what do trees really bring to us other than natural beauty and the oxygen that creates our atmosphere? What is it about this giant of the countryside that inspires, welcomes, restores and beckons adventure?

There is one tree which stands, noticeably, a short distance from the meadow river bank. Its leaves dance like bunting hanging from ribbon at a country party, and its stooping, arched branches hang low, creating a tunnel to walk through. A canopy, imploring you to wander beneath it and venture to the river beyond, for a paddle. The wedding arch, as it is fondly known, seems to bloom and grow more captivating each spring and summer. It has been the site of picnics with hay bales to perch on, photographs to capture the little joys of summer moments, and a resting spot offering shade and comfort from raging weather, be it heat or rainstorms. It has also been the signature mark of the changing seasons and in its quiet, welcoming way has offered its sweeping canopy as a place to stand awhile and simply think.

If you look back from the meadow gate, your eyes fall to this peculiar shaped tree, with its unkempt edges and rustic charm. How can one tree grow to mean so much within a place? How can its presence be something you look forward to greeting each day? Without it, would the river still look so pleasing to investigate and explore? Would the meadow feel a little forlorn?

Maybe, in a world where change is upon us every day, the landscape and its historical landmark of trees, offers us a sense of comfort. To withstand a storm and each changing season, to remain steadfast amidst our fast paced life. The tree does not go anywhere but literally remains grounded and rooted to its spot, seeing life move around us, as if it were watching a slideshow through the times. Trees were here long before us and will remain long after we're gone. They exist beside us and even if they are brought down, their stump still sits in remembrance of what once was. I'm not sure how long our faithful wedding arch has graced the meadow. When it was planted, who planted it, how it came to be, remains a mystery. It has flourished in its place beside the river for all to see, and all marvel at its beautiful shape and stooping branches. There is something so good and worthwhile here. Instinctively, you just feel it.

To some it may look like just any other tree, but to me, it is a significant focus of nature's beauty in our ever changing meadow. The wildflowers fade away, the grass is lost in the winter months ahead, yet despite the departure of its leaves, our radiant wedding arch prevails. Unmoved. Its shape unchanged. Simply present in its secure place beside the river bank. I wonder how many people and animals alike have taken shelter beneath it. I wonder if they felt as grateful for its presence as I do.

Our old and wise Hazel tree, thank you for being there.

Eleanor Cheetham
Artist Spotlight: Martha Kelsey
'Tides', oil and gesso on board, 280 x 175 mm, 2017

'Tides', oil and gesso on board, 280 x 175 mm, 2017

'Strata', oil and gesso on board, 280 x 175 mm, 2017

'Strata', oil and gesso on board, 280 x 175 mm, 2017

 

Characterised by chalky shades and sorrowful washes, Martha Kelsey’s paintings belie their basic material: oil paints. Despite tackling a diverse range of figurative subject matter, Martha’s paintings frequently conjure a sense of earth and water. Uncertainty in her work is matched by the flux of her practice. She continues to test new ground in her Cheltenham studio, and regularly shows work across the South West. Her upcoming solo exhibition 'Latte Leninism' opens at the Vestibules, Bristol, in August 2017. More information at www.subject-action-object.com

CreativitySarah Porteus
Foraged Feasts & Time to Escape

Eating seasonally is something that I've written about many times before, and I have been advocating this way of cooking for many years. So when I come across businesses that have similar values, it's lovely to be able to share them with others. The chefs at Colwall Park Hotel and The Malvern in Worcestershire not only choose seasonal products, they go one step further and choose to forage for ingredients in the local area. Keep an eye out in the journal over the next few weeks as we'll be featuring a recipe for honey roasted chestnuts, and hawthorn berry jelly. In the mean time, Head Chef Steve Rimmer shares a bit more about the ethos behind his food choices...

At The Malvern restaurant we create a lot of our dishes based on seasonal products, not only is it economical but eating seasonally has health benefits too; foods in season contain the nutrients, minerals and trace elements that our bodies need at particular times of year. For example we will use Worcester wild garlic & asparagus between March and May when it’s just come into season and is at its peak, whilst the Herefordshire berries are very delicious from July to October.

When we come to seasons my favourites have to be Autumn and Winter. This is the time of year I like cooking heartier food such as slow cooked blade of Herefordshire beef with balsamic shallots, roast root vegetables and a rich red wine sauce. The Autumn Winter vegetables such as parsnips, sweet potatoes, and butternut squash are great and go well as purées with fish, meat and vegetarian dishes. You will always find beetroot on the menu as that’s one of my favourite ingredients to use and I love to put it with goats cheese. Give it a go this season!

If you'd like the chance to experience seasonal food at its finest, the lovely folk at Colwall Park are offering you the chance to win a 1 night stay including dinner and breakfast for 2 people. The Malvern Hills surrounding the hotel provide the perfect opportunity to wander in the countryside and escape the norm for a short time. And if you're worried about leaving your four-legged friend at home there's no need - the hotel is dog friendly, with a 'paw wash' station and even doggie ale in the bar! 

For your chance to win, just head over to our crowdfunding campaign for Creative Countryside magazine and select the 'Seasonal Package' (£35), which includes a printed copy of issue 1, an enamel mug, organic dark chocolate and tea and a recycled cotton check blanket. There are only 35 of these packages available, so it could easily be you that wins the stay! 

Eleanor Cheetham
Creative Countryside Magazine

I did it! I finally clicked launch, and it's all systems go! The crowdfunding campaign for Creative Countryside magazine is now live and waiting for your pre-order. 

If you want a bit more info, here are the highlights of what we're offering...

  • For just £7 you can get a copy of the magazine. It's all about slow, seasonal living, and as it's the autumn edition ('gather') you can expect apples, hedgehogs, festivals, rain, fire, adventures and much more.
     
  • If you've got green fingers opt for the £15 package that includes the magazine, a wooden seed dibber, a notebook and a herb mix Seedball (these are genius!) - limited number available. 
     
  • Our mini seasonal package (£20) includes an organic beauty balm from Magic Organic Apothecary, mini beeswax candles and a copy of the magazine. 
     
  • Go one step further and get the bigger seasonal package (£35) - you'll receive a recycled check blanket, organic tea and chocolate, an enamel mug, the magazine, AND you could win an overnight stay plus dinner and breakfast for 2! - limited number available. 

There are also discounts for bulk buying copies of the magazine (to share with friends, perhaps?) and if you're feeling splash with cash go for the handmade package that includes 2 incredible wooden candlesticks (made with no electricity!), a handcrafted stoneware bowl plus beeswax candles.

ONE LAST THING! 

If you know anyone else who might like the magazine, I'd be incredibly grateful if you could share the campaign on social media. Just use this link - https://igg.me/at/creativecountryside/x/16185632 - or use any of the share buttons on the campaign page. Thank you so much.

Creative in the Countryside: Will Work For Food

Today's Creatives in the Countryside are Honey and Karen from Will Work For Food, a creative partnership working to elevate the importance of sustainability, ethically produced food for a healthy, happy life.

Nicola: Will Work For Food is such a unique concept. Tell us where the idea came from. And how you use your creativity to support farmers and homesteaders?

Karen: Honey and I had been working together for several years on commercial projects. And we both shared a personal passion for sustainable agriculture. As well as small scale farming and food in general.

We started visiting a few farmers, talking to, and photographing them in their element.  We were blown away by how passionate, determined and hard working they were.  We knew we had to work in this area in some way.  We both had grand dreams of becoming farmers ourselves.  But the more time we spent with them, the more we realized neither of us was cut out for it!  Instead we decided to use our creative skills to work with farmers who farm in a sustainable and ethical way, in the hope of contributing to their success.

We began to notice a common element amongst the farmers. While they were incredible at growing food, they had little knowledge on how to market what they did. We knew the majority of farmers wouldn't have the money to pay for our services. So we came up with the idea of working for food, or at least taking part payment for our services in food, to make it more affordable. And so Will Work For Food was born.

It's grown and changed quite a bit since those early days. And we’re even more focused on contributing to the success of many small-scale farmers. 

We do this by photographing them. Sharing their story with a large audience. Helping to promote them.  And teaching them how to promote themselves to the right audience.

What do you love most about the work that you do?

We both come alive when we’re visiting with these farmers, it gives us such a high. 

There’s not much else we’d rather be doing. We feel privileged that these people welcome us into their lives and share their stories with us.  We learn so much by spending a day with them.

We both feel strongly that our food system in this country is broken.  In the words of Dan Barber, ‘in the rush to industrialise farming, we’ve lost the understanding, implicit since the beginning of agriculture, that food is a process, a web of relationships, not an individual ingredient or commodity’.  We want our work to contribute to helping people care about where their food comes from and how it is grown.  If we can do that, we feel like our contribution was valuable.

The Collins Farm

The Collins Farm

Even before starting Will Work For Food you were both living a simpler, more conscious life. Can you tell me how these journeys have changed your lives?

For me the catalyst was a combination of having young children and my own health issues. It's the same for a lot of people. Before that I was on the treadmill of life. Finishing school.  Working hard at University. Travelling. Getting a good job. Working crazy, long hours. Buying an expensive house and the best of everything. Then one day I 'woke up' and realised none of that mattered.

We are both concerned about the kind of world our children are going to inherit. It doesn't take a genius to know that the future our children face is going to be full of immense challenges. A rapidly growing population.  Rising sea levels.  Depleted natural resources.  And corporations and governments willing to sacrifice the health of the people and the planet, just to increase their bottom line.

We both joke that living a conscious life is like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. The more you learn, the more you, well, learn. And the more you learn, the more you care.

It's why sharing stories is a powerful way to inspire change. Once you know something, you can’t not know it.  The majority of people do care.  But they’ve fallen into a place of apathy.  And a bit of laziness too.  Sure, it’s a lot easier to buy your vegetables from the supermarket.  But what impact is your action having on the world?

How many chemical fertilisers were used to grow that food? How much of these were washed into waterways, killing marine and plant life? How much soil was destroyed and can never be used again?  And how much pollution was produced delivering these vegetables to the supermarket?

Jervoise Organic Meat

Jervoise Organic Meat

You both have children, so I’d love to know how you are guiding them to live a ‘free-range’ life.

This is one of the most important things to us. We want to raise our children to be future earth warriors and change makers. We want to ensure that they have every opportunity to learn about how to make the world a better place. That they’re aware of how their actions impact other people, animals and the earth. And we want them to be resilient. To know how to be self-sufficient, and to have the best possible chance at a healthy, happy life.

Sharing the message of sustainability and ethically produced food is the core of the work you do. For people who are unsure where to start on a similar journey, what is one thing you would suggest?

The most important and powerful thing anyone can do is to educate themselves. And to take responsibility for the food on their plate, and that of their children.

Ask questions. Don’t believe the marketing hype. Find out who grew your food and how it was grown.  It’s not just about whether your food choices contribute to the destruction of the environment.  But also about eating food with a high, nutritional content.  If the soil your food is grown in is full of chemicals, pesticides and depleted nutrients, how dense are the nutrients in your food going to be?

People seem to have forgotten that healthy earth = healthy people. One cannot survive without the other. And we cannot continue to go through life without a care for the impact of our lives on this planet.

 

 You can find Will Work For Food on Instagram. 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 Nicola (hello@nicolajudkins.com) or Eleanor (contact@creativecountryside.com). There is no payment involved; we just like to showcase creative talent whenever we can!

CreativityNicola Judkins
The Choice to Go Handmade

There is something magical about a handmade item. It’s almost as if all the love, time and thoughts that went into bringing it into being can be felt when you hold onto it. Things that have been made by small independent creatives, artists and designers tell a story, and if you listen closely you will hear that story.

The further I have gone on my own handmade story, starting with my market stall at the age of 17, the more I have come to truly understand why you just can’t beat something that has been handled and made by the same pair of hands from start to finish. When I read older stories, such as Little House on the Prairie, I notice how content these people are with a small number of possessions, and I wonder when I walk past row after row of plastic and fast fashion at the store if the ability to have a gazillion outfits and bucketloads of knick-knacks has contributed to our feeling of happiness at all. I’m not sure it has.

In the age of mindfulness and getting back to a simpler yet more grateful way of existence, I believe the little cottage industries, the makers, the doers and the dreamers have their part to play. Aside from the often superior quality of a handmade item - which is most likely to become a family heirloom, not a contribution to the tip when it wears out after a year - creators not only give us a more colourful world, they make communities when their work is being supported, loved and admired. Certainly it may cost you more, of course it will. People need to eat and live after all. We all do.

I believe the social and community benefits are much higher when you support a local maker, or a maker anywhere. On a local level, the money you spend will go back into your area which means the other small businesses will flourish in turn. This can help create jobs, futures for your children. The ongoing effect can be quite huge, a ripple in the pond so to speak. When you choose to buy handmade, you are also helping to create a world that celebrates individuality.

If you stop for a moment and think about it, art and creativity are such a vital part of society. In an increasingly negative and often scary world, the beautiful act of creating something good, something amazing gives back, produces a smile. Creativity is the opposite of destruction. One gives while the other takes. I don’t feel that buying handmade should become a religious activity - where you do it solely because you see the benefits and feel the need to contribute. It should be more than that. You should really love what you are choosing to buy. You should love it and treasure it. The maker poured their love and creativity into what they made, it is your duty to love it too.

I have recently reached the point myself where if someone is quibbling over a price or seems to have an overall negative mindset towards one of my items, I would rather they didn’t buy it. A piece of my soul goes into each item I make, the transaction is one I would like to look upon with joy. I don’t want to feel undervalued and under appreciated. When that happens, handmade is no different to a mass made item. The customer isn’t caring about it enough to take it home to love, they are just seeing it as another must-have item. Something to post on instagram or boost their social status. The ability for a maker to only create such a small portion of items in comparison to mass-produced items means that handmade is special, it is unique and we should preserve that. It was never made to be in competition with the local supermarket or department store. It’s not about that at all.

One day, I wondered about the waste created by the mass market. I stopped and looked around at all the ‘stuff’ around me. The two dozen clothing stores. The dollar shops filled with replicas of more expensive counterparts. The stacks of two dollar stationary. Stuff. Loads of it. Where could it possibly all go? It was researching production for my own clothing business that opened my eyes to why the fashion industry is called the rag trade. So much of what we see in stores goes to landfill. It’s thrown away. Prior to this, the environmental impacts on creating so much cheap clothing so quickly are huge. It’s the hidden cost of the ten dollar tee shirt.

I live in the countryside. The natural environment inspires me. Flowers make me so darn happy. The birdsong fills my heart. I would rather see animals roaming grassy landscapes than locked in feedlots and sheds - the meat market’s version of mass production. The need to accumulate and to have just for the sake of having is actually affecting the environment and our beautiful world. The welfare of people and animals are at stake. Behind the gloss and glamour of all that stuff, are too often choked rivers, ravished forests, piles of rubbish and people working for less an hour than it would cost you to buy a cup of tea. And all to just have ‘stuff.’ Stuff you have to work long hours to buy and then spend cleaning. Most of the time, it’s all the cheap little purchases we make that tip the budget. You’ll notice that the bigger, more expensive items you buy less of aren’t actually the things that are breaking the bank!

There are many, many positive effects of buying from a small creative business. You should give, and you will receive in return. Not just a beautiful new dress, not just a doll or a bag or a birthday card. You will see the world change around you. You might not buy as many physical items, but you will be buying so much more. You will be supporting a local family, who will support other local families. You’ll be saying no to the waste, pollution and cheap products whose inability to last well will over time cost you hundreds more than the more expensive handmade item. Where the only person winning is the bigger company - you lose out because the quality is zip, and the workers lose out because the manufacturing has been moved to a part of the world where the living standards would be less than acceptable in your neck of the woods. So if you stopped and asked me “why should I buy handmade instead of a mainstream item?” I would answer, “Because why shouldn’t you?”

Megan Price
Microadventures: Where Your Soul Thrives...

Soul, essence, inner being, whatever you want to call it, put it in an environment particularly one filled with nature and watch it flourish and thrive. Put it in that environment on a regular basis and watch it change for the better. Watch your mind feel clearer, feel your shoulders relax, let the feeling of calm drift over you, carrying you in a bubble of clarity, nothing else matters at this time - everything else can wait - it’s your soul’s time to reconnect with the bigger picture.

It’s so easy to get caught up with material nags. The pressures that we feel from work, our families and what’s going on in the news - it seems to consume us so much so we kind of lose who we are. We become disconnected, disillusioned and our desires are dampened by the day to day stresses.

I often think about our senses. My inner knowing reminds me that my ears weren’t meant for listening to noise pollutants such as gossip and bad news. Instead it was given to me to hear shrieks, and laughs, as friends and I paddle on St Andrew’s cold emerald harbour.

© Funky Ellas Travel

© Funky Ellas Travel

My eyes weren’t meant to see scenes of chaos and destruction. Instead they were meant to see the rare wonders of nature including the the Lomond Hills or the impressive structures man built with bare hands, like the Falklands Estate.

My touch wasn’t meant for hard, cold, concrete walls and pavements. Instead it was meant to feel the smooth mahogany structures of the Cambo Boat or to be caressed by archways filled with roses, wild grass that tickles and teases at the Cambo Estate gardens, or how about feeling the craggy rocks and silky sand on bare feet as I wander along the Fife coastal path?

My tastebuds weren’t made for artificial flavourings or for general convenience to fill a gap,  but instead were meant to experience freshly picked salads and ethically home-cooked foods from a place that cares about your tastebuds like Pillars of Hercules.

My nose, it prefers smells of sweet homemade pastries, open fires and success.   Much like at an afternoon tea with Lindores Abbey distillery which is soon to be opening after 18 years of vision and two years of bringing that smell of success to life.

And then there’s my intuition,  a sense I pay much more attention to nowadays, which guides my soul back to the environments in which it thrives. I won't and can't even consider suppressing, ignoring or trying to convince it otherwise. Life’s long and beautiful but it’s too short to be doing anything other than what it truly deserves to do: thrive. 

Disclaimer: thank you to Welcome to Fife for having me over to experience a wee bit of Scottish bliss!  All walking miles clocked up, splashes in the North Sea and fudge donuts consumed were all mine! ;)

Chelsea Haden
Lyonesse

As they rose, the cities fell

the churches, schools and tower blocks

lost in the dark beneath the swell.

 

Screeching seabirds breaking the still

of this new silent place, skimming the spray of the swirling waves.

As they rose, cities fell.

 

In cavernous abyss, dark things dwell,

watching sunlight glitter on the surface.

Barnacles claim old towns, barely recognisable,

Lost in the dark, beneath the swell.

 

Across the perpetual water, fogs dispel.

The winds – the old gods, exercise their volatile tempers, 

as they rose, the cities fell.

 

Sometimes, you can see jutting, when the when the ocean’s dark moods quell,      

rusting pylons,  power lines, summits of skyscrapers - skeletons from an old world

lost in the dark, beneath the swell.

 

Seals bask unhindered, on the shores of desert archipelagos

no detritus on the soft shores but weed and shell 

as they rose, the cities fell.

 

There were a people once, mariners with stories to tell,

Frantic fleeting lives –  corpses now

Lost in the dark beneath the swell

 

The tides are wild

The were callous

As they rose, the cities fell

Lost in the dark, beneath the swell.

 

 

This villanelle was inspired by the fabled lost lands of Lyonesse. Maybe you, like me, wandered the harbour streets of Cornwall and noticed more than one or two boats with this name bobbing gently in the bay. It wasn’t actually till I was in my teen years that I came across the legend of Lyonesse - It was at the Gorsedh Cornish cultural festival where they did a story telling and I found myself fascinated and plunged into this watery doomed world off the coast of Cornwall and Scilly.

In a similar vein to Atlantis, the story of Lyonesse links back to sunken cities and the stories are often set around the Arthurian times. Some sources say that the Lyonesse was the kingdom of Tristan’s father (of Tristan & Iseult) and others link back to celtic mythology. It was believed that Lyonesse was a beautiful kingdom of spires, woodlands and castles… indeed St Michael’s mount - a very real castle perched on an island accessible at low tide, just off the coast of Marazion has very mysterious origins surrounding it. It’s Cornish name. “Karrek Loos y’n Koos” translates as ‘Grey Rock in the Wood’ which suggests that the mount was once surrounded by forest and some rumours claim that at lowest neap tides, the salt faded remains of a very ancient forest might be glanced. But despite the many curious stories surrounding this alluring kingdom, they all share the same grim end; that the land was doomed. It is thought that perhaps the people of the kingdom committed some terrible act and angered the gods to bring about such an end, but it is not known for sure.

Each of the stories tell that in one night, the entire land was sunken beneath a dark maelstrom that brought a single giant wave. And so it became lost and the people perished.

Some believe that there may be truth in this legend - the archipelago which lays around 30 miles away off the Cornish coast has bronze age remains of settlements, as well as other celtic settlements which once were above sea level but are now submerged upon the flooding of penzance bay over time… these could have inspired stories from early fishermen about lost cities, growing to become the mystical lands of Lyonesse as the centuries passed.

One thing is for sure, and that is that the end of the land holds a very real and vibrant sense of mystery and enchantment. If you stand at Landsend at sunset, and watch the day sink behind the stark rocks of Enys Dodnan sea arch, you will witness the moon rise over the coast on the other side and feel the very real power and magic that these parts retain… maybe you’ll even be gazing over the flooded lands of a lost ancient kingdom. Maybe, just maybe, on a quiet and still autumn’s evening, you’ll hear the bells of the ancient cathedral of Lyonesse, just as legend says.

Sarah Porteus
Back to Basics

Growing up in a rural setting by the coast, I was dubious about moving to the city. Although I adored the pastoral landscape, I was curious about the change and knew I had a chance of finding work there. Admittedly Bath isn’t London, but sooner or later it became easy to adapt to the urbanised habits of a city-dweller, though I have never lost my desire for the outdoors. Any chance I get to ramble in the country, or drive towards the coast, I grasp firmly with both hands. But am I happy in the city? The truthful answer is both yes and no.

Having found myself working tirelessly between two jobs and juggling a master's degree, I relish the idea of going back to basics living more than ever before. Despite my childhood desires I had never been camping before, so my partner and I packed his tent into the car and set off for Pembrokeshire.

Over a long weekend, we went without electronics, our camera proving the exception. Dinner consisted of a boil-in-a-bag meal, cooked over our camp stove and we ate outside under the stars. I couldn’t help but smile as we boiled water by the road-side, boots muddied by the mountain bog. Driving to get lost, scaling hillsides in the mist, the back-to-basics lifestyle had caught me by the hips and dragged me into my own reckless means of survival. I found a warm sense of comfort in hauling back to the simple things.

A key activity on our trip was to uncover the fabled resting place of King Arthur in the heart of the Preseli Mountains. Bedd Arthur is said to be found towards the end of The Golden Road, a historic tradepath across the backbone of the hills. Like all good road-trips it didn’t quite go according to plan, but then that was part and parcel of the beauty of the thing. We were quick to learn there were no signposts for the route and were hindered by a wide-spread mist. After several false starts, we managed to pick up the trail and clambered to top of Foel Eyer. From here we should have been treated to views across the Irish Sea and up the coast to Cardigan Bay, but instead we were rewarded only by undulating hills of verdant green, pinned down by threatening clouds. Whilst it was a little disappointing it was also rather magical, providing a mystical backdrop to my own Arthurian quest.

I’d hoped the trek would give guidance as to the direction we needed to take, which it did, but we were still far from Arthur’s burial site, and the weather was worsening. We were forced to put the journey on hold and head for the coast instead. We did, however, pick up the path from the end of the route the next morning, when the skies were clearing and I was adamant that I would find the long-awaited spot I was after. We launched into formidable bogland, seeing no other way to approach the summit. For many this would be a nightmare, but while it wasn’t ideal, wandering across the marshes, clambering over jagged rocks, I worried very little about anything other than potential tick bites. I was happy existing amongst the grassland scrub, tested by the elements.

Throughout my weekend escape, I embraced both the difficulties and achievements gained from overcoming them. Daring to grace the cliff-edge in St. David’s, provoking fear and excitement in equal measure. Meanwhile, the loss of a morning in bad weather meant reaching Bedd Arthur the following day felt all the more rewarding. Existing without modern distraction was liberating and bestowed a sense of calm. In honesty there was almost a void of feeling when I decided to live by the moment; it was as if all routine and expectation had been stripped away and left a sense of stillness in its wake.

Simply existing in nature, not watching the clock, was the most humbling feeling. I felt free to roam the grassland plains, graze my hands on the bluestone. My brain drew inspiration at passing ships around tiny islands as I scurried along in trepidation. Veins pumping, my heart beating fast, only the cry of a seagull could pierce the once silent void. The ground released aromas, dried grass and fragrant coastal flower. It is hard to put into words the way nature made me feel outrageously alive.

Despite my recharging weekend in nature, I can’t say wholeheartedly that I am a full-blown country girl. There is a sense of vitality in the cosmopolitan city, but it can be a feeling that dries after time and I think I will always require the boost that rural living offers. In the same manner, I don’t believe I will live in the city forever either. I often dream of a coastal cottage hideaway, but while I’m young and willing to chase my ideal career, I may reside elsewhere. Mother Nature is remarkable and as long as I’m in love with her. It doesn’t matter where I live, so long as I hark back to her when and where I can.

Jenna RaineyReconnect
Creative in the Countryside: The Whispering Wild

Today's Creative in the Countryside is Lucy from The Whispering Wild, a needle sculptor creating creatures with a tale to tell and a song in their heart.

Nicola: I’d love for you to start by telling us about yourself, your business and what drew you to the work you do?

Lucy: I must admit I find this question quite difficult to answer. My unconfident self always shies away at any question involving me. Over the past few years I have learnt that it’s much easier to tell you about myself via a story, so here we go.

‘I was a child that dreamt amongst the leaves and ached to feed my bare warm toes in cool mud. Nature was my ever-generous treasure chest. Gifting me sweet finds of nibbled nuts and pearlescent shells. I would store them for quiet admiration in used matchboxes and discarded film cases.

My struggles through my young life were always softened by the blackbirds’ song. Nature ran deep in my veins and I loved it whole-heartedly.  As I grew up my confidence retreated, hiding itself beneath a fortress of brambles in my soul.  I was constantly wandering my place, never fitting in.  I daydreamed about frosty morning fields for most of my teenage years.

After applying myself to jobs that never felt right, I realised my release was to come home and create the wonders I had seen.  Could I turn this passion into something that feeds me, as nature had done for my soul for all those years?  I worried that, with no formal training, I would dissolve into the background.  But once more Nature was there to reassure me she is my college of wild.  So I began, and with it the brambles that for so long encased my confidence began to flower.  So that is how I find myself sat here, in a shed under the willow tree with needle, wool and a shelf full of treasures. 

Tell us about the process of your work and where you draw your inspiration?

It is hard to pinpoint where my creations begin. The idea is hazy at first. Almost like a remembered dream. Or those sudden moments of realisation and déjà vu. I adore this part. It is the excitement and joining up of dots. That will be why I keep seeing herons. Or it's the ‘I knew this object would want to become something’. There is some part of me that knows, before my brain, what I’m going to create.

I tend to scribble or sketch ideas that come to me at all times of the day and night. It means my overused and well-thumbed journal is never far from my side.  I would say ninety percent of my ideas stay as just hat, and remain as a note in the margins.  But ten percent stick and start evolving. 

I used to find this frustrating, especially when I felt I had a brilliant idea. But this is one of many lessons I have learnt about myself. Never push it! Allow the flow and trust what comes, and what goes. Where the idea travels next is rarely within my control.

For many years I tried to be strict and stick to one medium. But I discovered that, like everything in this glorious world, individuality is a gift. My sculptures are a mix of wools, embroidery, silk, naturally dyed materials and found objects.  It can take anything from one day to six weeks to complete a piece.  Which gives them plenty of time to tell me their story.

As you can see I don’t have much say in what appears, which is why I feel like an imposter.  Creating a beautiful sculpture from an unknown origin of my brain or soul is a contract of trust I made long ago. 

My inspiration, muse, my all and everything is nature. It is safe to say I am in love with it.  From the cuteness of a cub, to the rich bones of a decaying creature.  There is hardly any part of a day I’m not thinking about nature, and no night passes without me dreaming of it.  I am overwhelmed by the magnificence of nature and how she shows herself. 

What does your workspace look like and what do you love most about it?

I live in a very unassuming, very ordinary ex council home in Somerset. When we moved here I realised I needed my own dedicated space. Money and space are tight so I needed to think outside of the box.

One day my husband and I were erecting a small shed we had moved from our previous home. A light bulb moment happened. Within 24 hours the 8x10 shed was insulated, painted, heated and had electricity.

I have been in this DIY studio under the twisted willow for two years now. Part of me would love a specially built space, but I do love how close I feel to the elements.  In summer the doors are wide open and the blackbird nearly comes inside to find cake crumbs.  The bees have no issue inviting themselves in.  Winter arrives and gloves are a must.  I get a childlike joy when the rain hits the roof.  Although it does disturb my Siamese cat from his peaceful sleep.

I know you love to tell the story behind each of your creations through your writing as well.  What is the best part of sharing these stories with others?

Telling the story is the most important part for me. I feel that without a story there is no life.  We all have a story and our creatures too.  So why would artwork be any different?

I would say it surprised me to know there were stories behind the pieces. But since a child I have looked for meaning in everything. At a very young age I was reading books about astrology and earth magic. I loved feeling connected to something I felt I understood.

There are countless depths and meanings in each sculpture. That all tangle together like the wool itself. I do have a crippling lack of self-confidence. Which sometimes makes it hard to share these tales that are often raw and close to my heart.

The only way I have found the ability share is through the support and kindness of my followers (aka friends!) on social media. Their understanding is a great comfort to me.  And the real treasure is that some feel, in turn, they can share their own tales with me.  It helps me more than they will ever know.  And I truly love them for it.

You donate some of your profits to the Butterfly Conservation Trust.  Can you tell us a little more about this?

Recently I have put into action a plan to donate money to charities through the sale of others and my artwork.  It has always been a dream of mine to give something back to the natural world that gifts me so much.  Sadly many artists find it difficult to make a living through their work.  And I am no exception.

I had been waiting for those magical numbers that meant I had the ability to donate.  But after hearing shocking statistics about the decline of one of our most precious habitats, the meadow, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.  

Nature cannot wait until next month or even tomorrow, it needs us now! The statistic that took my breath away was this.  Since WW2 we have lost 97% of our wildflower meadows.  So I am creating four watercolour images of butterflies to be turned into prints and cards. 

I’m also running an online auction of butterfly, bee and moth inspired art.  Kindly donated by some of my favourite artists from around the world.  The auction will take place on the 6th of August 2017 on Instagram, on the page @giftthemwings.  Profits will be split between The Somerset Wildlife Trusts meadows project, and The Butterfly Conservation Trust.  I also hope to hold an exhibition next year inspired by the winged works of art that pollinate our planet.   

What message do you want to share with others through the work you do and the life that you live?

Good question! My life can be pretty complicated at times so I don’t claim to have much advice. If my creations make people think about the environment, that's the greatest gift I could ask for.

 

 You can find Lucy on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. Visit her website here.

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