Half way to spring
It has not been the easiest beginning of February with me losing my Tripod , the Tax office being unhelpful and part of Bakethin Nature Reserve being churned up by Forestry logging when it is supposed to be a Reserve, plus, the weather has been typical winter of continuous wetness combined with wind. I can cope with drizzle , if wasn’t for protecting my camera i absolutely love nature in the rain but the wind is a real show stopper. I managed to get some photographs for Bakethin but failed on Bull Crag Peninsular and Hareshaw Linn so i have curated some from January : to be honest at this time of year there is not much of a difference , but in my mind thats the whole point. Also , due to the weather i was not able to get out on time for my weekly painting.
Its middway between winter and spring , Imbolc , i think “in-between” moments are where the magic is held , its where the new emerges, and i think our ancients did as well. To me , i like association of a Goddess than the word Imbolc as it has more personal meaning and also our Goddesses are the embodiment of land and nature so they serve all. People refer to Saint Bridget Day , but Bridget is older than christianity , in Ireland she is the daughter of Dagda , father king and druid of the Tuatha De Danaan , the high ones , the children of goddess Danu in which they have supernatural powers. It is said there are three , Bridgid the goddess of poems and her sisters , Brigid the healer and Brigid the smithy.
Where i am from there is a symmetry with the Goddess Brigantia. When the Romans arrived Brigantia was a powerful northern britain tribe and it must of been strange for the Romans to see the poweful queen Cartimandua. The Roman Goddess Minerva had similarities with poetry , healing and craft. Brigantia is a forgotten goddess but she still exists in my north , she embodies the land , the water , the trees and plants , the creatures and the underworld.
It is now , that as we begin to awake from winter that we shall bring good intention to our year which for me begins on spring equinox. I relate the art of the smithy as forging our minds to be strong by knowing thyself to what is an illusion and what is real ; it is craft of the path to freedom. To nurture our bodies , to shed the old skin and to rise like the name Bridgit infers as a high one , being the master of yourself but with one with the land. I bring to my mind , it isn’t my poetry of painting , words or even living my life but that i am the poem.
A few days later , my Tax issues were solved , it just take a kind and respectful chat with someone helpful and everything changes. A gentle reminder that when we faced with uncertainty and challenges that we are mindful to what thoughts occupy our minds and that they do not misguide you. A new Tripod is on the way and with more tax refund than i expected it was not that painful.
Bakethin Nature Reserve
I had quite a shock with my February walk i knew the loggers had worked on the Kielder end and made quite a mess of the bigger carpark and that work now had begun on the smaller carpark as i had to change places for my painting a week before so i had parked at the other end by the weir and decided to incorporate Matthews Linn as well. I was enjoying myself , it was drizzly and some rain and the feeling of the place was energizing. Places had opened up which i had not noticed before , textural swamps had emerged to the side of the reservoir with sienna brown grasses and dark mysterious trees as ghosts in the mist.
There was a sense of near completion which highlighted what was remaining as beacons of the past. The moss in sections beckoned me over , look at me , with delicate crimson pearl like heads holding droplets of water just as big as themselves. The rain had brought out Lichen to grow more and that bluey green was ever so vibrant it was unmissable to a curious eye.
The word sumptuous kept on cropping up as i wander further , the feeling was captivating and held me strongly , more strongly than before here. I was that hopping photographic squirrel as i bounded from one side to another. The frost , the rain and the wind had done there bit clearing for readiness of the spring and i witnessed this on the day of Bridget, half way to spring.
Even the areas i had visited many times before looked more vibrant , the sienna grass had turned into reddy browns and the lichen popped out on the trees. It was like i had entered a fairy land.
But there was a halt as i turned the corner by the bird hide to where i would wander a hidden path through the trees to a place i sat and chatted to the trees and birds whilst painting the strange forms and photographed the wonderful fungus that it was no longer a secret path through the woodland anymore, as one side was a pile of logs and empitiness. As i walked further and saw more destruction of was meant to be a Nature Reserve i was cross and turned back to my car.
It is a sad tale of commercialism which does not have the poetry of life , destroying for return of investment. I am sure the Goddess of poetry , Bridget , the Goddess of this northern land would be enraged. It is a sad thing and that it makes this space far too small for my diary and i will be visiting outside of Kielder a native woodland to enable the continuation of my story.
Bull Crag Peninsular
I thought as the weather had prevented me from taking photographs in the first week of February i would curate some of my favourite photographs of Bull Crag and Hareshaw Linn. Photographs which for me tell my story of the unseen and to champion that even an old plant contains vitality of beauty which is worthy of our attention. I hope that you like them as much as i do.
I will be eagerly waiting for the right moment to see and feel the mid way to spring energy and readiness for the next half of the journey to Spring. It is about cherishing the moment by moment of life whatever comes your way. Not to push away but to savour mindfully what is happening without judgement as when your mind is resisting you are missing the vitality of life which doesn’t need a fanfare or be big and brash but nuanced and elegant.
Hareshaw Linn
Photography has always had a place in my life even when i had not known about how my mind works , i think my subconscious knew i needed an external memory drive as i cannot recall places within my mind. I often use a phrase “i know it , when i see it” and photographs provide a sense of nostalgia and connection which my mind cannot. This diary is my memory , my moment to moment feelings which manifest into words as it remembers looking at my photographs.
The winter in a woodland is about discovery and when the foliage returns i know where there is a enclave or a path which leads to more things to share. It took me years in North Yorkshire to be completely intimate with the two woodlands i visited and each time was like visiting a good friend.
The remaining Alder catkins dangling in protected parts , the defiance of Hawthorn Berry still shouting out to the creatures its wares and the beautifully crumpled Rose Hips reminding yourself of your own mortality are a message that an end is just a beginning in disguise. Being at peace with life is letting life happen around you as there is enough space in your heart to allow whatever comes your way to be.
It is the energetic burn tumbling its way from the Linn into Bellingham , the life force which i pay gratitude. Our reciprocity of protecting what supports life on this planet is needed even if its just supporting people who have the talents to stand up for what is right.
