Different Realities

In about half an hour the sun will set behind the haze covered Welsh hills to the west of Croft Ambrey. Compared to yesterday’s almost blizzard like conditions up on Stow Hill near Knighton, the sunshine today was quite warm in those places sheltered from the cold breeze. I have spent the day walking meditatively around the walled garden at Croft Castle, Fishpool Valley and the woods up to Croft Ambrey. Just a slow relaxing plod looking at everything around me and enjoying a day when the sense of spring was tangible in the landscape. I could have stopped to draw so many times but my senses are just overwhelmed at being outside in a place I love. I just wanted to walk and sense everything around me.

This is all a distraction from the whirl of work and deadlines. I can drift away from the demands of modern work life and sit, stand or walk in my own little world. This is real place of course, but not part of my normal daily reality. It is a place that seems to be a significant ‘other place’ for me. It is another separate world in which I can exist but not really a place in which I live.

The wind in the scots pines above me is soothing and with a padded shirt, coat, scarf and gloves I feel fairly cosy. I am dry and so is the bench upon which I sit so I am not getting damp and cold. I expect the temperature will soon drop when the sun dips below the horizon.

When I head back down the hill I find I am bouncing along quite merrily. It’s like I have regained something of who I feel I would really be if I didn’t sit in front of a computer all day.

Croft Castle Illustration Project

In October 2015 I worked on an illustration project based around the National Trust property of Croft Castle in north Herefordshire. I visited the property over two days and recorded in words and pictures all the things that inspired me: people, the garden, wildlife, trees, and much more. This was a self-initiated piece of work that I had digitally printed as a 12 page A4 booklet. 60 copies were printed and given as Christmas presents to friends, family and the National Trust. Five sample pages are shown here.

Dawn Chorus at Croft Castle, Herefordshire

A week ago found me at 5 am walking through Fishpool Valley on the Croft Castle estate listening to the dawn chorus. This beautiful small wooded valley is always a pleasure to walk though and when one is surrounded by a cacophony of high definition birdsong it made the several hundred mile round trip so worth it. Well, I did have other motives for making the trip at that time, but when I had an opportunity to be in that place and at that time I was certainly not going to let it pass by.

The previous evening I had been up on Croft Ambrey watching the sunset. I am fairly certain I saw a redstart up there. It isn't a bird I generally knowingly come across and the fleeting glimpse of its red tail in the evening sunlight has stuck in my mind ever since. One day I ought to invest in a pair of binoculars. I had a great pair in my teens and haven't done any serious birdwatching since then. I'll add it onto my list of things to do.

Slow walk, Croft Castle

After a day of walking around Hopton Titterhill and then around the parkland and woods at Croft Castle it was time to slow down a little and do one of my favourite meditative walks. I had sat for a quite a while on the edge of the promontory of Croft Ambrey overlooking the Vale of Wigmore. The air was misty and I could not see much beyond the nearest fields below me, certainly not to the middle distant hills and beyond into Wales. It was pleasantly mild and dry. Walking down off the hill, through the woods and then the parkland was a perfect way to end the day and to slow down and forget the world around me. I found a slow pace that showed no need for hurry or care about what I should do next. Just one slow step at a time. Looking. Observing. Listening, smelling. Sensing. With the distant view obscured by the mist I have to look close around me. To the trees, the fungi, the ferns, the colours, the brambles. As I have mentioned in other posts I just love looking closely at the natural world. Not always understanding it from a scientific point of view, but admiring it for its colours, shapes, forms, patterns etc.

High up on one of the conifers a crow caws. A deep loud crackly caw that echoes through the mist and the trees. I can barely see it, high up on an uppermost branch, a back shape amongst the blackness of the trees. It seems small and yet it's call is so loud, piercing the diminishing evening light and the misty space over the acres of newly felled trees. In the surrounding trees of the woodland edges that are still standing I can here the evening chattering of blackbirds, the occasional wren and the inevitable high picked cheeps of what are probably gold crests or tits. I think there should be a new word for these unseen small birds that inhabit woodland like this. I never quite know what they are but they are just small cheepy things.

I always enjoy this walk because it speaks to me of returning to civilisation after a venture into the wilderness. A sense of homecoming after a time away. A sense of saying goodbye to nature and saying hello to my normal world again. I never tire of this place and hope that I will be back many times in the future. It isn't MY land as such as I claim no ownership to it whatsoever, but it is a special place to me psychologically and spiritually. With thanks to the National Trust I am able to enjoy this place with freedom and find a sense of ownership and attachment to it though the inspiration I find here.

"Look at Me".

The National Trust property, Croft Castle, is one of my favourite places to visit. Today found me sheltering in the cafe from a heavy rain shower and being inspired to draw the colourful drinks cabinet. The place was empty mid-morning, but at lunchtime it was packed out with visitors and I had to join a long queue to buy a BLT sandwich (which was worth the wait). I sat in the walled garden for a while and sketched the apple trees and then climbed up though Fishpool Valley up through the woods and onto the top of Croft Ambrey. The conifers have started to be felled here and a forestry machine was making short work of felling, cleaning and slicing the long tall trunks into shorter sections. The earlier mist of the morning had completely dissipated and there were magnificent views all over the Welsh borderland. As I walked back down to the castle the sunlight was spectacular. It was now late afternoon and the light was taking a golden turn beneath a clear sky. As the trees are well into turning colour, the scenery around me was spectacular. There was hardly any breeze and, with the sun low in the sky all colours, shapes and changes of light seemed to be accentuated to give a breathtaking beauty to everything.

If ever there could be a day in which Nature (God?) was saying "Look at Me" then today must be one of those days. It was day that brought a sea of mist, dramatic clouds and showers and a golden evening's sun. It showed me lots of wildlife from woodpeckers to deer. It showed me numerous different trees from the apple trees in the walled garden to the colourful hornbeams that I sketched. It showed me a landscape of hills and valleys. This was a reminder that we live on a planet where by the forces of nature will always continue to do their own thing. Mankind will, seemingly, never cease to evolve into a species that alienates itself from the natural world and seeks a selfish "I can do whatever I want" attitude with disregard for one another, other cultures and civilisations. We seem intent on destabilising communities and countries by greed, fundamentalism and selfish ideologies with no regard for a bigger Earthen picture or philosophy.

Croft Castle, Herefordshire

This is the walled garden at the National Trust property Croft Castle (4 May 2013). This has to be one of my favourite gardens and overlooking it is this lovely cottage. One day we hope to go and stay there when we have a few spare pennies as it is available as a holiday cottage.

I painted this is the same way as the previous picture of Southstone Rock. I just painted over a photograph picking up the colours from a photo and layering up the image. In some ways I feel this is a totally pointless way of working as all I am doing is basically copying a photo. It was though quite a therapeutic thing to do - like doing some cross-stitch perhaps. I don't have to think about anything creative, but just follow the pattern of the colours of the photo. That isn't quite true as I only allowed myself one main brush as I had to work out how to translate the photo into brush strokes. I kept me quiet for 6 hours or so.

Croft Ambrey Sunset

Writing based on notes made Thursday 5 July 2012
I’ve just driven up from Bedfordshire and now, at  around 8.30pm I have parked at Croft Castle. It is a superb evening - warm, some sunshine between the clouds and everywhere is so green after all the rain we have had. Little did I know that the next day would bring a day of almost continuous rain and many flooded roads.

I walk up onto Croft Ambrey and sit at the western promontory. The sun is a glorious bright red and within a couple of minutes it has dropped below the western welsh hills. I manage to do a quick sketch on my iPad of the view before the light begins to fade too much.

The top of the hill fort is awash with soft grasses and pink foxgloves. The ground is so wet and as there are no sheep grazing here at the moment the place is beginning to look a little overgrown. As I walk back down the hill three strong scents surround me. Bracken, barley flowers and freshly mown grass. In the dampness it seems as though the fragrances are almost overpowering. They fill the air which is saturated with the smell of nature. It is very quiet here - almost unbelievably so. How different to the inherently scentless towns we live in that only create their own smells though the activity of humans. In a place surrounded by bricks and concrete we create the smells of car exhausts, cafe’s, rubbish, cigarettes etc.  There is no innate natural fragrance. Only nature has the power to generate such things - and primarily it is the plant kingdom that has the upper hand here.

Often people seem to talk about the search for God. Where is he? How can I know Him? To me, when I am in a place like this there is no need to search for God. God is all around me. It is the natural world - its essence of being. The meaning of life becomes the gift of being able to enjoy its beauty and to share in it. Yet through selfishness we often seem to want something more aligned to a consumable faith.

Modern towns and cities are far removed from a sense of ecological living where small scale, low impact sustainable communities can live in harmony with the natural world without being dependent upon the superstructure of imported consumables and the problems of mass waste production. Unfortunately the demands of a massive population and economies of scale favour modernism rather than the ecological.

Cathedral of Trees; Voices

On 5 February I drove up from Bedfordshire to Herefordshire and unexpectedly arrived at Croft Castle with about an hour of daylight left and so walked up onto Croft Ambrey. I wrote the following in my sketchpad and then didn't find the space to write it up until over a week later with a few embellishments:

The wind is warm, such a contrast to the bitterness of December's snow and ice, and strong too. Several trees had recently been uprooted in nearby Fishpool Valley. The path before me is sheltered from the roar of the windswept hillside and the waves within the tall conifers around me. This is a cathedral, a cathedral of trees. Tall, straight and skyward - towering above me like the pillars and walls of a large open place of worship. The path is the nave and beside me are the pews of rusting bracken and tangled dormant brambles. I come across a volume of space where the trees open outwards and paths cross. It holds my presence and awaits my prayers. Slowly I walk, mindful and aware of the imminent gathering darkness but also the loneliness of my presence. The path is worn by many, but only my pilgrimage is now present. I welcome my self to this place and ask to receive something. Ahead of me is the high altar of the hill top and here I lie in a sheltered place and look out over the valley below. The greyness of the clouds and the winter evening is punctuated buy the brightness of distant lights. I find peace in the wind here and return to the real me, with a voice and a song of worship - worship to the land and the spirit of the landscape that energises me.

I was drumming in a yurt with friends last night and thinking about voices: the voice of the wind in the trees above the yurt that I could watch swaying though the skylight; the voice of the logs burning in the fire; the voices of people sharing; the voices of our drums; the voice of the space itself; and the voice of silence.

Here on the hillside I realise that my pilgrimage is about finding a voice. Finding a voice with which I can communicate with spirit, a voice for me to stand up and be something or say something. I pray for a voice - a voice that can communicate and that can inspire. I think that a lot of my anxiety comes from a fear of what people will think of me and I feel that my spirituality must make me perfect -and it doesn't. Yet nature produces all - all is unique and has value. I feel I have no voice, no significant tale to tell, a voice that is becoming harder to find as I get older - and energy is drained away by work, and hours in front of a computer screen.

I pray for a voice. A voice that will reflect freedom. A voice that will call out into darkness like the owls I can hear in the trees. The landscape has a strong voice today. It has called me here today. The energy of the wind brings conversation, whispers, arguments and laughter. I pray I might be likewise inspired.

Up on Clun Forest

Last weekend I made a trip to Clun Forest right on the Welsh/Shropshire border. I had hoped to spend the time doing more writing than I did as I had planned it as a sort of retreat and a re-energising of my spirit. However, as usual, my precious time away whizzed by and it was easier just to enjoy the presence of being there rather than force anything that didn't want to flow. Here are some notes I made at the time with reflections added upon their write up. I wasn't going to write them up, but I am forcing myself to do so.

It is Friday evening, about 6.45pm and I am up in Clun Forest. I took the afternoon off work and about three and a half hours later I am overlooking the hills and valleys to the north west of Clun. It took me a while to decide where to park the car. It was a bit windy and the forestry tracks seemed to be well used by a variety of visitors and so finding a sheltered and 'safe' place was a priority. I found a place that felt right and cooked a small tin of stew and new potatoes on my gas stove.

Although breezy, it wasn't too cold. It was cloudy with patches of occasional sunshine. The views north were good with distant grey rain showers shrouding patches of the landscape. The last time I came up here was with my Father and that was the last time I would be with him. I remember the fine clear day gave us views right into the farthest distance and we were wondering if we could see Cadair Idris in North Wales.

As I write my notes the sky is clearing a little and the initial hazy moon is now bright in the clearing sky. It must be a full moon about now. The wind is still strong in the tall conifers beside me and I am sheltering in the car to preserve as much of my body warmth as possible. I can almost write by the moonlight, it seems so bright.

I haven't written much formally on this blog for many months though I have tried to get back into journalling. However, writing for 30 to 45 minutes a day is hard work and very time consuming. My mind seems to have wandered away from so much of my 'greenary'. Perhaps it is because work is so much more challenging and taking fulfilling many of my creative needs and energy. Also, I haven't been in places where I have been truly inspired. 'Nature time' seems more rushed and precious these days and the demands of everyday life seem to have taken over. Somehow I feel rather disconnected - and particularly after my permaculture course too, which is a bit odd. A reinforcement of green and ecological thoughts and values seems to have overloaded me and I've had to step back from it all. Bit bizarre and I'm not too sure where I am going... I hope that this weekend will be a turning point but I know I can't force anything - and I am on my own anyway.

I go for a walk. I forget how light it can be when the moon is out. I pass some trees and notice the different sounds that the wind makes in different trees. Conifers give a high pitched whooshing; beeches have a frenetic rustling of leaves; whilst some plain leafless trees in the hedgerow give an almost deep drumming sound.

A large aluminium foil baking tray makes an ideal small fireplace for me and I soon succeed in getting a small fire burning with some charcoal and a few small sticks. I am amazed at how much heat even a small fire gives out and I feel quiet cosy sitting beside it even though the wind is quite gusty. As the flames die to leave the constant changing patterns of the glowing embers in the breeze reflects the cloud moving in front of the moon. Always changing, always creating new patterns.

A group of people walk past - a couple of adults and a few children. Hmm, quite a busy yet isolated spot!

My bike had to sleep in the undergrowth whilst I lay in the car (I'd left the back seats at home). It rained quite heavily in the night and I did manage a few hours sleep. I awoke fully at around 5am with moonlight streaming in to the car. I got up shortly afterwards and went for a walk eastwards along the Kerry Ridgeway. It was wonderful to be out walking by moonlight and looking northwards in the valley towards Montgomery. I enjoyed just walking slowly, knowing that it wouldn't be getting light for a good hour and a half or so. I could thus just 'be', listen to the landscape around me and know there was no need to rush the walk for any reason. The shapes of the trees and the moon produced many wonderful silhouettes and long shadows. I did a good circular walk of perhaps three miles or so and arrived back at the car just as daylight was flooding the hill around me.

I moved the car round to the other side of the hill for breakfast. The wind had died down and I now overlooked the hills to the south west. The sun lit landscape was full of autumn colours and sparkling raindrops coated coated all the grasses after the night's rain. A flock of redshanks (or some other waders) shared a nearby bit of moorland with some sheep.

I went for a superb bike ride this morning. I followed the forest road westwards along the Kerry Ridgeway then dropped down to Anchor. then headed southwest along the ridge of Black Mountain towards Clun, but turned down to Newcastle before a very steep climb back up onto Clun Forest and the car. It was probably around 15 miles or so and actually felt quite an easy ride, but then I did get off and push the bike down or up the very steep hills. Views were superb in the clear autumn sunshine and the coolness of the morning did make it a very pleasant cycling experience.

In the afternoon I drove on to Black Hill just south east of Clun for a walk and then on the Sunday morning I climbed up onto Croft Ambrey. Again this was another warm and bright sunny day with excellent autumn colours and views. It was just good to be out o both days getting some long needed exercise and fresh air. I have felt a bit bogged down recently and here was a rare opportunity to just get out and cycle and walk.

Drumming on the Hills

The past few weeks of beautiful warm summer sunshine has enticed me out to various locations with my drum. In early June I travelled up to Croft Ambrey (in Herefordshire) after work in the hope of watching the sunset over the Welsh hills. I didn't quite manage to get there on time, but I was rewarded with a wonderfully warm and quiet period of space up on the hill top. The May blossom on the various hawthorns on the hillside was superb and as the evening light faded I had a very peaceful, yet expressive time in the landscape I love so much.


Last weekend I happened to be awake at about 3.15am on a restless night and decided that this would be a good opportunity to go and watch the sunrise on the Pegsdon Hills near Hitchin. Not being sure at what time sunrise was, I wasn't too sure I would get there on time as it was already getting light. I strapped my drum to the back of my bike and cycled off through the country lanes, with the moon watching me, and up the hill above Pegsdon. It was a tiny bit chilly, the sky was clear of coud and the views were superb. I found a space to sit just sheltered from the cool breeze and at that moment the bright orange sun just began to emerge from the haze on the distant horizon. I think it was about 4.55am. My drum wasn't really in the mood for playing - being a bit flat in the cold and dampness of the early dawn.

And when the mist comes down

An October afternoon up in the woods above Croft Castle, Herefordshire

And when the mist comes down
The silence of this grey shroud
subdues all sound and heightens
the call of the tiny goldcrest.

And when the mist comes down
the memory of the morning's
orange sunrise seems distant
and the brilliant moon
that kept the landscape wake
will not be seen tonight.

And when the mist comes down
the soft drip, drop of water
off the dense, darkest green pines
surrounds the lonely traveller.

And when the mist comes down
a gentle breeze waves
the golden bracken fronds -
the only movement in this shaded place.

And when the mist comes down
I walk with meditative footsteps
on the long awaited dampness
that the autumn now brings.

And when the mist comes down
the landscape hides its form
and only my feet and my soul
can guide my solitary path.

And when the mist comes down
My world has shrunk to that
which I can only see ahead -
the distance is no longer visible.

Lyngham Vallet: A Place to Be.

An October morning on the edge of Bircher Common near Croft Castle, Herefordshire

A place to be: where the valley lies, awakening to the cool, almost imperceptible pale salmon light of the new day.

A place to be: where shelter from the cold morning breeze is given by a thick gorse bush looking out over the trees below.

A place to be: where waves of bracken cascade down the valley sides under the birch and oak.

A place to be: where blackbirds and others call through the silence.

A place to be: where deep in the dark conifers the grunting of dear echoes over the landscape.

A place to be: where the subtle changes in the colours of the leaves call to the onset of autumn.

A place to be: where this small valley seems to hold treasure and peace.

A place to be: where, earlier, in a car sleeping. Cold and uncomfortable, yet beneath a moonlit sky.

A place to be: where a welcome can be given to the new day.

How the mind can play with words.

I was walking down from Croft Ambrey towards Croft Castle recently and happened upon a time when the poetic side of my brain seemed to awake from deep dormancy to intense creativity. Every part of the landscape seemed to speak to me and I responded with my voice in words that flowed with ease and freedom. I was reluctant to stop and try and write everything down as it would spoil the presence on the experience, so I sat down in the walled garden a short while later to try and jot things down. Alas, the creativity had gone and I was left with only a few memories that in no real way captured the real essence of what I had thought. I don't why this happens - perhaps it is to do with stimulation from the natural world or a relaxation of the mind when time is spent away from day to day thought processes.

Anyway, this is what I will write after looking back at my notes a day later:

Down the grassy hill I walked
towards the great old spiralling chestnuts
and now beneath a fruitful apple tree
the poetry I sang seems faraway.

I'll never understand the poetry of life.
The twists and turns like the falling of leaves
and the breeze that carries thoughts
like a bird on the wing
with freedom it flies in the wilderness of space.

A jay - from branch to branch
with a flash of white;
and a pigeon a fluttering of grey.
The crow, dark and heavy with steady flight
and a squirrel hurrying away
with chestnut to a hidden place.

....

And I can't remember anything more - but it went on for ages.

Camping and Drumming

Recently I spent a few days camping. I spent one night at Eastnor Deer Park campsite near Ledbury in Herefordshire and then three nights at the Resurgence Readers Camp held at Green and Away, a tented and 'green' conference centre near Worcester. With four days at my disposal I wanted to make sure that I used them wisely. The Resurgence camp was a great opportunity to meet a diverse group of people but, as I had found last year to be so emotionally challenging and inspiring, I decided not to attend any of the talks or activities this year. I talked lots, did quite a bit of washing up and enjoyed just sitting around chatting to people. It was great to spend time with people who shared many of my interests and ideas and I appreciated not feeling quite so isolated.

There were some things that were inspiring to me about my time way and I will just recount them here. I don't want this to be a diary as such so I'm just going to write what comes into my mind and not focus on times, places or people as such.

I had pitched my tent in Eastnor Deer Park on the south-western edge of the Malvern Hills and walked up to the monument on the hill above the campsite. During my tea I had been watched by two doe Roe Deer and five stags then appeared out of the woods to watch me as I left the tent and began to walk up the hill. It was about 9pm and the light was just beginning to fade. The rain laden clouds were giving way to a much clearer sky and there was quite a cool breeze. I took my drum with me and enjoyed a decent time drumming in the approaching darkness. With the air being cold and damp, my drum was distinctly sounding flat but it was wonderful to play it and listen to how it sounded with the breeze in the trees. This was the first night of my holiday and I felt a great release of freedom from the isolation and restriction I had felt at work. I had driven three hours to get to this place and now I was at home in the landscape, the wind and the rain. There was one moment of looking up when I was thinking about light and immediately seeing the only star in a patch of sky that was very moving.

I took my drum on a gloriously warm and sunny morning up onto Midsummer Hill on the southern end of the Malvern Hills. Walking up to the hilltop just after 6am was a wonderful experience and the views were superb - so clear under a cloudless sky. There was a strong breeze, but in the lee of the hilltop and the concrete seat, I enjoyed a great time of drumming. Weaving seemed to be the theme - weaving the sound of the drum through the landscape. I find that small chants can come naturally to me in places like this. I can't always remember them as they come and go with the flow of my drumming and whatever I am thinking or praying about. It is a very "in the moment" sort of experience.

The River Teme runs beside the Green and Away camp and I took my drum down the river bank one morning after breakfast. It was warmish, mostly sunny and no-one else was about. The river was significantly higher than last year and the water a muddy brown with silt from recent rains. The Indian Balsam was in full flower and long-tailed tits fluttered around seemingly unperturbed in the willow trees just beside me as I drummed. I then sat down and spent an hour or so drawing my experience, by which time other campers were out walking and enjoying the river too.

I spent an hour by myself in the yurt 'sitting room' drumming. This is almost one of my most favourite places in which to be. Quite, surrounded by soft cushions, warm in the summer sunshine and very welcoming.

I had a good walk up onto Croft Ambrey and then a few hours drawing in the walled garden at Croft Castle. Between the many rain showers there was lovely sunshine, but it was so intermittently wet that I didn't get as much drawing done as I would have liked.

Driving from Leominster with my mother to our old farm. It was a beautifully warm, clear and sunny evening and the countryside around Tenbury Wells and towards Hanley Child looked stunning.

I'm not used to talking so much and so when faced with so many interesting people who all share many of my different interests it was fun but quite tiring to practice quality communication. I did appreciate that some people sought me out from time to time as I felt I was always giving, always being the one to initiate conversation - and I was trying very hard to be pleasent, chatty, respectful and friendly to all whom I met.

Visting the Knapp and Papermill Nature Reserve. This has to now be one of my favourite places on the planet! I went there twice this year having fallen in love with it last year. The river, the old apple orchard, the woodland, the meadows.... sigh!

Finding time to do some drawing that wasn't rushed was wonderful. I did a couple of pictures at the Resurgence camp that I put up in the yurt and those that saw them and realised I had done them were quite appreciative of them. I felt I had contributed something in a quiet, sort of unseen way to the camp. If i go again next year I might draw upon this and do something a bit more.

Drumming on Croft Ambrey

On Sunday 3rd May at about 8.30am I arrived at the car park at Croft Castle. It was empty which was a good sign as I thought I might then have the chance to be up on the hill by myself. It is the Bank Holiday weekend and there will soon be many people visiting the castle and the hill.

I walk up to the top of the woods and take off my walking boots and socks. The long dew-covered grass which I first walk though is freezing cold but on the main path the shorter grass and dry earth is much more comfortable. I have my drum with me and I begin a meditation walk that takes me up to the hillfort, around the main rampart and up onto the top of the hill. It is cool, but the sunshine is bright and clear between the clouds. It is an amazing morning. The light is so clear and the colours are beautiful. I look carefully at the views, trees and the landscape around me as I walk slowly and steadily, carried by the gentle beating of the drum. The drum performs superbly in the warming sunshine. Its sound seems to resonate with the wood of the trees. I watch a buzzard in the distance and try and work out how to mirror its flight with my drum. This is a wonderful place to be and, as I complete my playing and meditation, the first of other walkers start appearing on the footpaths around the hill. I set my camera up on a sock and walking boot and take some pictures of myself with my drum.

I wonder when the last time a drum was heard in this landscape. I am sure it would have been common in Iron Age times, but who else has drummed up here? It is a superb location to listen, to watch, to observe and to meditate. The views from the hill are magnificent and, on a bright spring morning like today when the leaves are coming out and the landscape is in full spring awakening, they are probably at their best.

Walking with Flowers

Here is picture of Harebells on Croft Ambrey. Whilst up in Herefordshire last week I took the opportunity to rebuild my long forgotten knowledge of wild flowers that my Father inspired me with as a teenager. On one day I went out for reasonably long walk (Titley to Wapley Hill and back) with the aim of drawing all the flowers and plants I didn't recognise. However, as it took me about an hour to cover the first mile with so much stopping, bending down and drawing something, only to repeat myself a few yards further on, I decided I needed a better approach. Ah, the joys of digital cameras! I was soon snapping away as well as doing the odd sketch. I was amazed at how much I found.

I did another walk, a couple of days later, about 10 miles or so, and again had my head focused on the ground for much of the time (Titley to Wapley Hill, Shobdon Hill Wood, Sned Wood, Croft Ambrey and ending at Croft Castle). The photo is taken from Croft Ambrey, looking back to the hills I had just walked over. In covering so much ground and passing through so many different habitats such as river banks, conifer plantations, open heath/grassland and arable fields, I began to be accutely aware of what plants prefered which habitats and what I would be likely to find where. There were often surprises as sometimes I would find something completely new in an unexpected place. It was actually quite hard work - always looking and trying to remember what I'd seen elsewhere, but very rewarding.

Although I have recently bought a new flower book it wasn't until I was back in Luton several days later that I really began the task of identifying what I saw. I had forgotten that, even with four main flower books it is not easy deciding what is what. In the field some things look so much as if they should be easily identifiable and yet the books don't quite have the perfect match. I have begun to look more clearly for the sorts of things that really identifies a plant. Umbellifers can be confusing unless you know what to look for, but it is the sort of self-heal/woundwort/calamint type of flowers that seem to get me. And even the flower books seem to illustrate the same species differently - one picture looks distinctly as if it is the wrong illustration compared to another two books! It took me hours to plough through all my drawings and photos and I only have a few plants left which I am uncertain about.

On ploughing through the flower books I was amazed at just how much folklore was attached to plants in times gone by. So many were medicinal and a good number are poisonous to varying degrees. Even some of the smallest plants seem to have had some medical property attributed to them. How on earth did people find out that a tea made from a bedstraw could clear a nosebleed? Why not just stick a wadge of grass up your nose? People must have been so much in tune with plants in the past, but then I suppose we nowadays would instinctively know that lemon squash tastes better than bleach even though both may look the same, come in the came sort of plastic bottle and come from the same supermarket.

One final thing. After my first long walk, and a day spent with my face in the middle of hedgerows and my nose to the ground, I came across a beautfully and immaculately trimmed hedgerow that had only just been cut by a tractor and flail mower. This represented everything I had been looking all day, now all mulched up in its prime. I know the farmers have to do it, but somehow it just showed how fragile nature's existence around us is and how much we shape it for our convenience and need.

Sunrise on Croft Ambrey

Notes written for Saturday 20 October, 2007

1 am: set off from Luton - the forcast was for a cold clear night and a sunny following day. Arrived at Croft Castle at 4 am. Wrapped up warm and set off to walk up the path to Croft Ambrey. A clear sky, no moon, but enough ambient light to enable me to see my way without the aid of a torch. Fortunately I know the path well. Climbed over the stile into the field with the spanish chestnuts - startled some nearby animals, cows or sheep? No idea what as I couldn't see them! Through the woods the path was barely visible in the darkness. Very quiet - just the odd rustle here and there in the undergrowth - deer? Also an occasional owl, otherwise I was surprised just how quiet the woods were.

On reaching the top, I was surprised to the the quarry on the opposite hillside working. A mist was covering the valley below me and the orange lights of the workings created an eerie ghost-like presence as they reflected off the wisps of mist - like something out of a thriller or a spy film (remember Disney's 'One of Our Dinosaurs is Missing'?). I thought about the old trees I had passed - just able to see their silhouettes. I wonder how much our fear of the dark comes from scary films and stories? Above me the sky was clear and full of stars. I never see a sky like this in Luton, too much light pollution. Saw quite a few shooting stars, also one very bright star that seemed to out-shine all others in the East/South East - looked very distinctive - a planet? Definately not the moon. I just awaited the lightening sky, the anticipated and expectation was almost overwhelming. Like awakening to something new and unseen, a new experience, What would the dawn look like? What colours, smells, sounds would I sense? I sat, lay and walked on the cold damp grass. Waiting. Letting the dawn 'be'.

Gradual rays of light seemed to fill the sky fom the horizon, almost imperceptible, then the light got stronger. Blackbirds began to chatter and other birds could also be heard around me. Deer sounds too? The misty valley took more definition - the hills seeming like islands. The red sun broke the horizon. Frost lay in the low lying pats of the hillfort. Four Sheep and a crow. The landscape around silent apart from the sublte sound of the quarry (which if I moved away from the summit and down the slope disappeard behind me), an occasional vehicle in the valley and a possible tractor working in a far off field. Several owls, Tawny and Little, heard. The sun appeared at around 7.45am.

***

This is my pilgrimage to Croft Ambrey. It is a place to 'be' and I value it hugely. Standing alone on the dark hill beneath the star filled sky. I am at peace. I am very cold! The grass is wet and cold, I lie on it. I ma in this place, this place is in me.

The shooting stars are so fast - perhaps the fastes things I have ever seen - a fraction of a second they take to cover their path in the sky. Such a fine flash of light.

I dance in the light of the rising sun.

This dawn is my dawn. It has become part of me, part of my memory. An experience of transformation.

Thank you.

Rain, My Companion

A walk up onto Croft Ambrey, Sunday 13 May.

Pouring Rain, all day long. I walk up through Fishpool Valley, then cut up throught the woods onto the lower banks of Croft Ambrey.

I look at the colours on the woodland floor. Even in the rain the green colours seem so vivid and bright - even yellows that contrast with the greyness of the sky: spurge, dog's mercury, ferns... Such vibrancy, so many shades of green, they almost have a light of their own.

Then I pass into the conifer stands. The mist is almost purple between the near distant trees. Greens give way to the browns, oranges and the smell of pine.

I pass a sheet of corrugated iron, possibly an old pheasant shelter/feeder, propped up by a wooden frame and brambles. The face of a startled fox peers out from its dry shelter only about four feet away from me. Then off it runs through the dampness.

I exit the pines onto the lower edge of croft Ambrey - common land with new bracken unfolding. The air is still here on the sheltered side. Low cloud envelopes the hill. Quiet and still. The heavy scent of the surrounding hawthorn blossom fills the air - strong, damp, peaceful in the surrounding mist. I look at the hawthorn flowers close up. So beautiful - white, with pink anthers and silver drops of water.

I am alone on top of the hill.

Walking back down the track. I observe the rain falling on the oaks and other other broadleaves edgeing the stoney path. Water drips all around me, so close. And then I side-step into the pines - the sound is so much more diffuse, high above me the rain touches the top of the canopy - a more ethereal and distant sound that fills the larger space.

I have touched the cool rain. It has touched me. I am refreshed. The rain has become my companion on the lonely hill where few have tread on this very wet day.

Landscape Meditation

These are notes about a meditation I performed in May 2006 whilst up on my favourite hill, Croft Ambrey, in Herefordshire. I think I had driven up from Bedfordshire in the middle of the night and walked up onto the hill in the early light of the morning. I found myself in sunshine on the top of the hill, on a grassy bank, beside a hawthorn tree. I made brief notes afterwards about what I had thought and did at the time and I have rewritten them here as an outline. They could be used as a guide to performing an outdoor meditation anywhere.

WELCOME
Find a place in which you want to perform the meditation. Approach it with a welcoming heart and make yourself comfortable. Take a few minutes to take in the landscape: view, trees, sounds, smells etc. What is the weather like? Warm, cool? Clouds? Listen to sounds: birds, animals, breeze, distant human activity. You have come to a place. This is now your place of being. Go and look for something that inspires you in the place: twig, flowers, stone etc (but don't necessarily touch it). Breath in the air - the earth has given you this as a gift.

ASK
We all have questions. Be open, think about what you seek inspiration or guidance for - not direct petitionary prayers. Ask to be shown something. Use landscape features as a guide e.g. path (for direction, distractions, clarity, journeying, following...)

RECEIVE
Take a closer look around you at an element in the landscape and focus on it more deeply:

Tree
Notice its leaves, bark, branches... How is its shape formed? How do the branches exist in three dimensions (why don't they keep touching?). Look for patterns. Feel leaves: textures, how they interact with the light - patterns, shadows, colours; they give life, soft, delicate (even if tree thorny) Any insects? Think about stability, firm foundations, roots, soil, age, belonging in the landscape, strong, immovable (yet can be cut down by man in afew minutes). Fragility of life - we can take it away. Photosynthesis. Without plants humans would die. Size, shape, alone or with others. Shadows. It is rooted to one spot yet we are free - free to run, jump, lie down in grass. Do that! Feel the dew, wet. Look for other plants or evidence of animals, insects (sheep, rabbits, swuirrels, mice, butterflies). RUN AND PLAY: allow and feel the freedom (if safe to do so). Just BE. No phones, TV or computer, or perceptions of what people may think of you.

GO FORTH
How will you leave the place? Emotions: happier, sad, indifferent. Your choice. Would you take anything - or just everything as you found it. You have freedom to go in whatever direction you want - but you will most likely retreat to the security of what you know or are responsible for (home, work, family). What is freedom, or the ultimate freedom? Go out again to find something that inspires you. Is it easier? Has you view changed about what you see around you?

Raindrops on Croft Ambrey

The following was written after a walk on Croft Ambrey (a hill in Herefordshire) around 24 July 2005. The memory of the experience is still strong and this is a place to now publish what I wrote back then.

: rain and mist : an evenings walk, cool : up though the woods : standing beneath the tall Scots Pines on the promontary : mist swirls around their tops and I am at cloud level : beneath me the valley hides and then appears as waves of mist roll : the colour subdued by the clouds : I stand in the lee of the wind against solid wood : age old weathered wood : weathered by the elements on this exposed place : tall and strong : solid and secure : I hold out my arms and embrace the peace : warm : wet : the demands of time can wait : I am alone : I am at home : here I want to be : forever : this is my belonging : no desk : no computer : no demands : no worries : no fear : just peace : embraced : I could fly out : released from a weary body : held up by emptiness : but knowing freedom : the wind swirls the cloud around me : rain drops mingle with the senses : air so fresh : I ask for healing and freedom : I ask for guidance and forgiveness : I ask for being : I ask for belonging : I ask for presence : I ask for peace in my soul :

back : along the path : stop : see the pine needles, long, slender : each holding a few drops of water : diamonds almost ; small sparkles of beauty : reflecting light : formed from the mist : still and graceful : a temporary appearance of beauty : but yet visible : I have seen it : it is seen by me : and yet above and around me are hundreds of trees : this small vision of light and colour and creation is repeated across every pine needle : on every twig : on every branch : on every tree : up and beyond : out of touch : out of sight ; but existing ; unseen : a present beauty that exists repeated across an immeasurable expanse : whether observed or not by me : it is there : such divine beauty : such infinite beauty :

surrounded by the dark forest and mist shrouded trees : rain drops : all around : not just all around but an almost infinite dimensional sound around me that has no direction and no source : but total : the sound of water droplets on wood : on bracken : on bramble on stone : on wood : on leaf : sound so totally surrounding : present throughout the wood : no-one can hear it : a present sound with no observer

a profound meeting with nature : a touching of senses : a union of the mysteries of my existence and the physical natural environment : different concepts of reality : coming together : the trees and me : sharing the rain : spiritual? : it felt a deep experience : was something reaching to my soul? : was my soul creating an emotional tie with something? : a melancholic union of longing and the present : it felt more than just a pleasurable experience : it felt as though I was touching a connectedness of spirit : felt before in life, but now acknowledged : it seemed life changing : memorable : fleeting : imagined yet tangible : has the human soul power to create such an experience and perceptions? : for what purpose? : why have that sense of beauty and connection if we are in dominion? : overwhelming peace and security : this is belonging :

The next post Struggling with Evangelical Christianity continues with this.