A pledge to nature

every day

Summer reaches her peak

branches sway

Dandelion clocks

spin their truth in time

while humming bee-song

breaks the silence

of nature’s rhyme

No reason here

…just is

Wild Spirits wait

Wake up

they cry

In forest deep

they’ve waited long

emerging now

from sleep

Wake up

they sing

too late

as silken silence

fell

the drum beat ceased

No more

the bird-song bell

A pause

A breath

before

life’s final

death knell

Summer is upon us, the hay harvest is early. Up here, the hills are mist veiled. The city, a little over an hour away, is showing summer temperatures 15 degrees warmer, when the norm used to be approx 6-7 degrees more than here.

Climate change is no myth and although there are varied and major factors to contend with, making it quite possibly beyond repair, there is still the evidence of forest and green vegetation pointing the way to holding off what is otherwise, sadly the inevitable.

Growing trees creates a cooler environment naturally. We are completely off grid but use no electrical cooling system, only open windows and doors and leafy foliage that shades our converted barn from heat in summer and gives us sunshine into the house on sunny, wintry days. Cost? Zero! Carbon footprint? Zero.

Some folk are made for city living, seeking out the dubious thrill, noise and the appearance of an abundance of choices for how to wile away the time, when not working in the proverbial, 9-5 tick-tock time.
Food and fashion fads prevail… influencers tell people how to look, think, speak, what to eat and be in the world and the latest gadget to buy to make them super-cool. Social media and related advertisers are dictating choices that will make us better, stronger, more desirable and invading our online social hours in the meantime, following and trolling our every move to see which ad they feel is appropriate for us. Even meditation apparently, can’t be done without the latest head set and app, when nature is right there to walk or sit in, to meditate and be at peace in, without contrived methods.

Too many are forgetting how to ‘simply be’ in the world.

Sometimes
the best we can do is be
Sometimes
when the world
of humankind collapses
into apparent insanity
trying to see with clarity
is an impossibility
Sometimes
retreat is a strength
because we feel we are
making no difference
merely adding to the mayhem
with our disbelief
that another can hold
such darkness inside
they can harm another soul
Sometimes
the best we can do is be
live a simple
uncomplicated existence
Become earthed and grounded
centred in the wilds of nature
where we see that
even nature isn’t kind
merely consequential
for not being alert
Be responsible
only for the self-actions
and self-thoughts
that lead to self-discovery
for another’s way
will not be changed
or understood
without seeing
through the same lens
Breath
look deeper
sense
with every filter of reason
Listen
to the silence
within and without
where noise
becomes a backdrop
holding all we need to know
…for sometimes
the best we can do is
simply be
and in being
become
at one
with all that is

Food has become a rude and sometimes, elitist business. Crazy fads and extortionate prices, trick people into seeking new flavours all the time, having them believe this is the cure-all for everything that ails humanity, when in truth all we need to do is eat less, include all the food groups appropriately, exercise moderately, depending on age and health issues.

We all need to eat but what goes on a plate as a serving of food is obscene, particularly when some can’t make ends meet and one meal would feed several… the rest, wasted; sent to landfill instead of becoming available to the needy or at the very least to green compost.

First Kale, then Chia, Quinoa and rare exotic berries, were the thing to keep one young and vibrant… dubbed superfoods; too much of some of them is toxic and how much of them is actually more than enough at one serving. Potatoes, and dairy are spurned… and now we find that kale has more tanic acid than rhubarb.

As lush as for instance, nut milk might be, it’s advisable to look at how it’s produced and the additives in many of them, not to mention the fact that if your really need nut milk, you can make it very easily yourself. Buyer beware… convenient, pre-cooked, overly processed foods are the worst for dodgy fillers, flavour enhancers and chemicals.

Then there are those of us who avoid the plastic glamour of it all to grow the city-folk’s food or simply our own to share, that then rapidly become not ‘in’ enough any more.

Farmers multi task crops and growing seasons to suit the latest fashion-food-faddery and have to ditch tons of fresh food that supermarkets reject because they’re a little out of shape or ‘nature kissed’ by heavy rains, frost or hail.

I grew up in the UK, where any fruit or veggies, bruised by the weather had the bruises cut off… good food was simply not wasted, particularly, post-war and was never a fashion fad.

We are conned into believing that because components are assembled to make solar powered grids that the manufacturing of those components is also green! Are the factories that make them fueled by solar and wind energy or straight off the overloaded existing coal/oil-fuelled grids.

Under what conditions are the Tesla EVs made, we need to ask, that is, if we can afford one in the first place. Take a look where your gadgets are made and where lithium comes from… ‘green washing’ is real and do you truly need a new phone or other such device, every year?

We blame creatures for methane output but barely look at our own toilet emissions, from billions of people globally (that far outnumber animal and bird droppings), steaming off in effluent treatment plants into the atmosphere. Then there’s our carbon footprint, our legacy for jetting or touring around the world seeking magical experiences forgetting to look at what is right in front of us, right here and now… NATURE… take notice!

I feel as if so many people are missing the point, running around trying to please everyone, ‘influence’ others to impress or make themselves feel better and the pressure is building as to what these ‘needs’ are doing in the way of manufacturing when too much ends up in landfill and worse… such as plastic pollution, found in the guts of fish, birds and other species… probably including, most of us.

She doesn’t need us but we’re homeless without her.

Her heart is silent
Soul-wings now frail
She heals the suffering of others
and in turn will ail
But she will find her way
to the edge of time
…hearing the night calls
following the rhyme
and rhythm of life
as it ebbs and flows
to the circle of stones
where the Magick knows
all the answers hidden
deep in her soul
She will find her way
to the edge of time
at the very cusp
of night and day
where the Crooked Path
leads her to her goal
deep within
to the edge of time
remembering
…knowing grows
illusion falls away
Her soul-light glows

…and how dare we be so fussy, when we have so much, in comparison to those living in a war-torn, starving and homeless world!

…so, wee rant over!

I have previously mentioned in a past post, my grandmother’s back garden and the shared spaces to grow food for the whole urban block she lived on… child care was free and the whole block knew where we all were, too and care of the ageing was a community thing. My nanna lived at home until she passed away as did her neighbours as they aged.

Will you change your ways and add to the movement for a sustainable and more community based lifestyle? Even in the city it’s a possibility with green community squares, rooftop gardens, shared and combined back yards to grow food and for children to play. Simply take down the fences between!

Walk softly… think twice and think again… Awen /|\

Penny

All Photography, art and words, ©️ Penny Reilly, all rights reserved.

Summer arrives with a blush… a rush of colour. Raven, magpie, sparrow and wren loudly proclaim the hatchling’s break out and columns of ducks, bill to tail, troop around the orchard and gardens, down under the gate and through the fields to the ponds, taking the little ones for their first ‘ducking.’

Hawthorn and rowan are finished flowering and tiny berries form. Elder is in full flower, their scent delicious.

There’s the sense of a rush of activity so as not to miss out on the season. Life in this little slice of wildling country is a joy but also a great responsibility and yet this alone brings up conversations had and specifically, with purists, who believe nature in Australia should only be indigenous to each region… I often reply… ‘Well sadly, birds and other creatures don’t recognise our boundary rules and if we were to remove every flora and designated ‘plant in the wrong place’ we would then have to remove all European edibles too, such as apples and cherries that too, grow wild in the region and are foraged by many in autumn for fruit preserves.’
Would they then resort to eating only bush tucker, I wonder? Our limited indigenous species would actually suffer more as a consequence and wild trees such as the aforementioned hawthorn, rowan and elder, if removed, would take away habitat and food from adaptive birds such as local parrots and lorikeet who thrive on their presence. Daily, we have lovely swamp wallabies visit to snack on rosehips when in season and… hmmmmm! A conundrum indeed but I guess, it’s another example as to why, as humans, we segregate ourselves into them and us by race, creed and/or religion.

Can we not simply live side by side and forge different ways to accept and even celebrate our differences, marvel at our diversity, instead of turning them into devastating wars that benefit neither persuasion. Then what would the warmongers do in their spare time if they can’t play top dog, one wonders? (I’ve not seen deer and kangaroo fight!) Perhaps the wealthy oligarchy might add a few million to help the starving and homeless and claim fame in that way… the fame they obviously, narcissistically crave?

There are moments in a day when things become translucent. When light falls specifically on one blade of grass, a water droplet, a bee’s wing, ripples on a pond… a fragile leaf. The world slows down, stills and white noise of the world falls away. All that’s left is the ebb and flow of life… a heartbeat song.

Senses stir

Ruffled fur

A bird floats

on a thermal

it cannot see

but feels

lifting its wings

A breath of air

A scent on the wind

A salty tang

An ozone explosion

Changing leaves

A changing song

A sultry breeze

Ripples on a pond

A falling feather

Forgotten bones

A place where

one feels the need

for silence

A chill on the skin

Ancestral walks

with kin

Trees whisper

in words

no longer understood

in the

forgotten language

found

in the dappled light

in the sacred wood

in the dreaming pool

of life itself

Life continues in cycles and circles… moon rises and sets, dandelion puffballs separate into tiny seeds and fly away on invisible updrafts… a kookaburra chick learns to chuckle and cackle, making me collapse into giggles and an Imperial Swallowtail sips on Buddleia nectar… did they all originate here? Do they fight amongst themselves? If they do it’s for survival, not from personal malice regarding being, looking, believing, thinking, differently.

Walk softly… celebrate diversity… Awen /|\

Warm wishes and blessings…

Penny

Although it’s officially summer, our surrounds are misted in and Fae-like, with heavy dew on the ground. Sometimes it feels as if we live in a space between worlds.

We read of the terrors in the world, violence, climate change, fire and flood, seismic activity, war and famine. A return to the old ways of our ancestors is well and truly a viable proposition in these extremes.

Because of our cooler climate in the hills, we grow all our vegetables and berry fruits in a greenhouse (soon to be two) and only potatoes and green crops for digging in to feed the soil are grown outside, along with fruits such as plums, cherries, quince, apples, pears, alpine strawberries and hardy herbs that love the cooler weather.

We have wild hawthorn and elder aplenty, both elderflower and berry make medicinal extracts for winter colds and flu and wonderful culinary syrups and wines.

A tiny space can be used to grow fresh foods, no matter where you are and even a little wall of hydroponic grow beds is better than nothing. A row of pots on a balcony or verandah will ensure things like lettuce or rocket greens and tomatoes are in abundance.

Strawberries, rich in nutrients, are a snap to grow in hanging pots or strawberry planters.

My grandmother was self-sufficient in fruit and vegetables in a suburban garden in London. All the neighbours grew something different and the whole block shared the produce. Eventually they had gates between, so everyone would help each other out and kids had more room to play. They shared an air raid shelter through both first and second world wars. My great grandparents started the journey and my grandmother (her husband lost in the first WW) looked after both them as they aged and raised her two daughters, my mother and aunty, in this loving environment.

As we, my sisters and I came along and others on the block, child minding was a community affair and everyone new exactly where we were and that we were safe. Post war, it was a simple lifestyle and sharing garden space created a hub of activity and friendship. I spent a fair bit of time here with my nanna, who gave me the groundwork of what became my lifestyle of choice.

I grew up through my formative years on a farm in West Sussex until college years. My parents were busy academics, but the garden there was also a lifestyle they chose. We were surrounded by dairy country and orchards and my young days were filled with the natural process of seed sow and grow, production and harvest both on the farm and in a London, back garden community, cooperative. An absolute win-win for this nature child.

We weren’t pampered children and were taught that if we wanted something we had to save for it unless it was an essential they provided. We were taught to respect what we had and to look after it well. Good, fresh, homegrown food was a privilege and we were a part of the growing seasons and cycles wherever we were.

So… what if we wanted less… not less of those vital ingredients such as a roof over the head, clean water, good food, fresh air, family and friends in healthy relationships but less of the stuff world media says we have to have or we’re simply not good enough?

Will a bigger house

feed your children

Will a sports car pay the rent

Will your expensive habits

be the cure

for a twisted mind

drug-ridden and spent

Will killing a neighbour

or a stranger

give power to your

lethal pain

Will beating your partner

make you better

…make you sane

Will you be a better person

because you follow

the brigade

of having over giving

forgetting love

is how we’re made

When the chips fall

and the ‘thing’s’ broke

cos it’s cheap

and shoddy goods

will you reuse it

rebuild it

renew it

or chuck it in the woods

With the world’s pollution drastic

simple living overpriced

workers underpaid

the oceans drown in plastic

what do you need

what will you save

What is important to you

at the end of the day

the throw away things

the glamorous trims

or the love-strewn

nature’s way

Life is nothing to do with having ‘stuff’ if we have our basic needs met… and if we continue buying into the world of plastics and throw away goods, our planet and a myriad of species simply will not survive…

…whatever your choices, make them sustainable…

Walk softly… keep it simple… be kind… Awen /|\

Penny

Photography, art and words copyright ©️ Penny Reilly all rights reserved.

The very nature of this world is change. Seasons change and the year moves through its natural cycles. When the very nature of humankind shifts us from one cycle into another of violence and death, starvation, homelessness and fear all for the need of control and political gain, life, aka nature, simply keeps going.

Her cycles change and adapt but she doesn’t need us… so yes, she moves from spring into summer, into autumn and winter, seamlessly. A tree falls… other organisms thrive on the remains and nothing is wasted. Flowers bloom, fade, become berries or apples and are devoured by whatever predator gets there first and we are one of them… we are predators, our instincts to survive pushing us to live, to breath, to have, to create and to destroy and all is mirrored in nature except… we want it all and if not freely given, we take and take and take to build our little empires that too will eventually fall into obsolescence.

We may be broken
in our bones …in our heart
but life moves through us
(flexible) if fragmented
still we are not separate
…never apart
Life drifts through all things
mending broken wings
Her call
is heard in the night
through shadows and light
She will catch us if we fall
…in Her song

Just as leaves fall and seeds are blown on the wind, (or perhaps, make a journey through the alimentary canal of bird or beast) we shed skin follicles, hair, droplets of fluid from sweat, tears, spittle… not to mention other bodily functions, solids and fluids. These particles that bear our ‘Siegel’, our unique signature of who we are, are constantly and eternally drifting out into the universe to share themselves (which, explains themselves) to anything else they come into contact with. I am sure you’ve all heard the phrase ‘we are made of the stuff of the stars,’ …well of course we are!

A tree in the forest communicates with everything around it in the same manner, in order for creatures to understand its signature as ‘eat me’ or ‘eat me at your peril.’ It’s only humans who are stupid enough to forget the signatures of the forests; the signatures of the elements in weather patterns through bird and animal behaviour.

The communication of that same tree is no different to our siegel of skin, hair, spittle etc., it loses leaves, seed pods and seeds go into the ground. Dust from its bark and the bark itself, falls to become particles that fly off to join with others to create something else entirely. Eventually the whole tree will rot and fall… does it question that? It’s really only us that say, ‘oh no you can’t dispose of my body like that. You can’t let it rot where it is like all the other creatures of the forest, including trees and all plant/animal life!

Yes, naturally, ceremony for our dead is important, honouring our ancestors too but how the body disperses into those particles in the Dance of Life is probably the moot point and the mystery. It is our ‘reaction versus response’ that has made us the way we are towards life and death itself. We are, I feel, even more sensitive right now to these rituals of honouring due to the way we see the world shaping up; descending into war, famine and fear. Random, tragic events are also more evident every day through the news and social media; our own community rocked by what appears to be a completely freak accident that took five souls away from their families, including two children’s lives.

We mourn, we grieve but nature simply moves on… cycles change, seasons change and it is there… right there in nature, we come to terms with mortality, fragility, fear and pain by its mirror of ourselves but completely without judgement. She teaches us to feel it all, to surrender to it all and find the peace of simply being…

I heard an old song, sung

Black is Black

about loss and gain

harvest and lack

when our heart bleeds ink

onto paper thin

can the poem wrought

soak into our skin

leaving trails of silvery

tears in the dark

in circles round

a luminescent track

in an ark

…of pain

we are told is gain

yet

black is black

in soft, velvet folds of night

and without the dark

we cannot see

…the light

Walk softly, tread gently, surrender…

Penny 💚🙏💚

Photography, art and words, copyright ©️ Penny Reilly all rights reserved.

Out of the blue, there’s a flurry of activity. Tiny birds don their spring plumage and proceed to attack their own image in windows and other such shiny objects, vying for a pretty female, but more attracted to their own as a competitor to vanquish. How true is this for humankind? Vanity, narcissism, anger, violence as if there is a brain worm becoming active in certain damaged psyche.

It has been a protracted, chilly spring and wet. Eventually, daffodils and snowdrops are replaced by bluebells, narcissus and native wild flowers, cover the fields, underfoot.

Through the storms that raged, native purple swamp hens became regular visitors to my studio and deck, boldly tapping on the window to see if a morsel of food was available… I love these curious birds but now they’re down near the ponds again raising a brood, so hopefully they’ll come for a visit with the chicks.

I walk daily when the mad winds ease. I garden, paint, write and live a very simple life that is fast becoming as self-sufficient as we can make it with a second greenhouse on the way shortly to put together like a giant mechano set.

My next book is still far from truly underway as my own mind sifts and prioritises what is most relevant to me to share in a crazy world. That said, nature continues her journey with or without us… cherries, apples, pears and plums begin to produce tiny, nubby fruits; strawberries and blueberries are fast forming now along with tomatoes, just coming into flower.

A wild ride, world wide has seen unrest, violence and a complete lack of compassion in many countries. After the pandemic one would imagine we could close the gap again having been through so much together and apart. Communication was our mainstay throughout those years, particularly through lockdown but no… it was obviously not enough for humanity to see that conflict and war are never the way to peace and already too many have died on the Russia- Ukraine front and now Israel-Gaza. Is it too much to hope that sanity can reign or alongside our endangered planet and many species of insect, bird and animal are we on the fast track to extinction?

There are theories

intrigues

that can take us away

from the

glow of dawn

failing light

at the dusk of day

We become untethered

from the natural purpose

to raise children

honour the elders

to live a simpler life

instead, we fall

simplicity forgotten

into the morass

of war and strife

It all began

with a new god rising

who teaches wealth

as the only aim

forgetting

without nature’s canopy

…we’re all out of the game

An opportunity has arisen

to slow the pace

remember the aim

respect our planet

above all else

or we

(as nature shows us)

face extinction

and then

…we’re out of the game

I can only take solace from our wild acres as birds return to nest or to forage for food in the fields and ponds…

With warm wishes and blessings,

Penny

Photography, art and words, copyright ©️ Penny Reilly all rights reserved.

Winter, came less than silently on wild winds and shifting light.

Bleak and dark it descended… a blanket of hibernation instincts.

With harvest finished the very last of the late-ripening tomatoes perfume the kitchen with their juicy roasting in garlic oil and herbs… yes, this late! What a windfall this year!

Despite the freeze, spring onions, leeks, garlic, lettuce and cabbages are breaking ground in the slightly warmer environment in the greenhouse… alpine strawberries have begun to flower and there is, for me, a sense of the sap already rising in the elder, willow, rowan and hawthorn.

Hazelnut catkins hang in pale green offerings to the rare sunlit moments of post Winter Solstice days… the coldest are yet to come but as days begin to lengthen, slowly the darkness of deep winter lifts marginally and bright spears of green can be seen under the trees in the grove of Sycamore, Elder and Blackwood and bluebells prepare to emerge through leaf litter and mossy soil.

Through the forests wildflowers are already blooming and shiny purple, puffball fungi are a splash of colour in the dark… their smaller companions, pale beside them yet no less deadly.

Another year moves on…

We all have dark phases

times in our lives

naturally occurring periods

in any life cycle

when we fail to understand

that endings are precursors

to new beginnings

When our life rhythms

move us into and through

these dark phases

we can be ignorant

of what is actually happening

except of course with the benefit of hindsight

and that it is in actuality

a time of mystery, wisdom, and healing power

Between writing, painting and beginning the journey into spring planting, the world is looking grim and this affects my mood extraordinarily. Political news, climate change, housing shortages, interest rates and rising living costs are becoming a nightmare for so many… each day I say a quiet thank you to our life at the farm, where basic needs are met with fresh vegetables and eggs, with a surplus enough to fill freezer and pantry and to give to the local cooperatives for the wonderful meals they prepare for those in need of a winter’s day feed of hot soup or pasta.

As an author-artist, the pinch is certainly felt as the luxury of buying books and artworks ebbs… food on the table, heating and a roof over the head are far more urgent for so many and so I’m all the more grateful for the cosy barn-house.

One of my greatest joys is the daily interaction with wild creatures at our hill top retreat. A flock of purple swamphen arrived a few years ago… I refer to them as the Goblin Tribe, because they pop up everywhere unexpectedly and they come and go as the season dictates, heading down to the ponds during nesting season and up into the fields and garden around the house for the rest of the time.

They are fascinated with our hens, chatting to them in hoarse barks and squawks through the fence and would probably join them for breakfast if I let them in.

This year, since the studio was completed, they have become a fixture and without any encouragement, they’ve decided that I’m pretty safe to be around, too. Every morning, there they are on the deck at the back door or tapping at the window of the studio to say good morning. A rather odd relationship, to say the least but one I relish as much as with the strangely shaped currawong, with her crooked tail and unusually rounded chest, who now accepts a tiny piece of fruit from my hand… I didn’t ask or encourage… she just arrived one day, so I guess there’s a sign somewhere that reads, ‘safe house for the odd and ailing,’ or ‘soft touch here, tap glass for attention.’

Adding to the collection of waifs and strays is a Swamp Wallaby… fondly known as Ms Wabbly; her huge girth definitely has a wobble to it. She’s shared space with us for a few years now and completely unafraid of our presence as we go about our daily chores, while she happily munches on fungi or wild blackberries with equal relish.

…and so life meanders on through the ever changing landscape of seasons, solstice and beyond… in just a couple of days, we reach Imbolc with visibly lengthening days and the cold hard earth will warm, yielding to up-thrusting life.

There’s a girl

with the forest inside her

she walks the veil between

Her eyes, the colour of sky-bright

her hair of autumn leaves

Butterflies dance in her presence

through the groves

of haunted trees

and in the glow of pellucid starlight

her heart is open and free

to fathom the depths of the life-stream

to soul-walk with creatures who abide

All fear is lost in the wonderment

…as she walks with the forest inside

Warm wishes and blessings from my hearth to yours…

Penny

beyondthegatebypenny.etsy.com for all books and art prints.

The wheel turns… summer has been all too short but already, trees are changing colour, elderberry, hawthorn and blackberries are ripening in the hedgerows…

She changes her gown

as the year grows old
from russet to amber

…green to gold
She’s the lady of the harvest

for all living things
in the hedgerows and forests

a rich bounty She brings
He changes His cloak

as She changes Her gown
they dance at Lammas’ hay wain

‘til in sacrifice He’s cut down
yet they dance on and on

as the falling leaves twirl
through the mossy glades, twilight

to the pipes sobbing skirl
that breaks through the silence

of a darkening year
then on toward Mabon

the crisp air becomes clear
On they dance toward Samhain

the ancestors awake
and the Wild Hunt comes riding

the years’ fallen to take
through the veil brightly gleaming

long hair darkly streaming
and the hound’s wild belling

cause the forests to shake
on and on yet they dance

to Yule’s last long dark day
the light becomes stronger

yet Jack Frost’s still at play
but on they dance toward Imbolc

as the first lambs are born 
ever onward to bright Ostara

the sun’s rays become warm
then when May blossoms open

their honey perfumes the air
step abroad as the sun rises

to make a wreath for your hair
for here at the rite of Beltane

their dance flames with bright joy
and folk may later harvest

…a girl or a boy
On to Litha they dance

sweet berries flavour the wine
the sun’s power reaches zenith

and will slowly decline
On the breeze, you’ll hear Her singing
in the thunder His rumbling mirth
when they call us we’ll dance with them
In circle spinning

…Death to Rebirth

Circle Dance… is featured in my Silver Threads series, available from beyondthegatebypenny.etsy.com

I do love this time of year when things are so busy on the farm with harvesting and preserving, drying, freezing, etc., but it seems as if summer forgot us, all but for a few days of warm, balmy air.

Although it’s been some years since Lady, as I named the rescue Spotted Harrier, who flew into an open, (not ususally but I was cleaning), glass door… and yet here she is! She recovered well and was released back into the wild from here but as said, after a few years she stopped visiting and I assumed her gone but she returned for a short visit the other day… she looks me straight in the eyes and I feel the affinity I felt when I picked her up, semi conscious on the day of her injury. Look at the intelligence and the directness of her gaze… I’m completely in love, all over again, with this beautiful wild spirit.

Other wild spirits, roam aplenty… this beauty is a loner for some reason but doesn’t appear injured, so perhaps simply ageing. The old, infirm, the rogues and the misfits, seem to find us up here… and being somewhat a loner myself, I relate to the need for the hermitage… in fact I’m tempted to change the name of the farm to just that.

Meanwhile, within the changes in nature and as we move towards the darker half of the year, things are moving along with renovations to our old barn-house (we actually now have a laundry!) and to the wee studio pod that will be my studio very soon…

Lughnasadh is past and a beautiful new moon hung suspended… the grain and hay harvest are in and daily, fresh berries are brought to the table…

In my current wee space in the corner of the dining room, work is afoot for a forthcoming exhibition in early April… commissioned work is flowing in and I’m beginning to feel more grounded and centred after being extraordinarily unwell. Autumn’s early arrival is the source of this creative burst… things come to fruition, the pantry and freezer fill with both wild and cultivated foods… soon hazelnuts and apples, wild blackberries and our own raspberries and strawberries will be made into preserves or syrups, even frozen for wee treats like fruit tarts or mousse, for dessert and smoothies for breakfast.

I’ll get around to posting some recipes here soon, and not only food, rather ink and dye processes and herbals, too. I’m still in the organisational stage of returning to blog writing; with so much else going on, it had to take a back seat… but at least, here I am back in the writing saddle!

Life moves on again as the wheel turns… my latest book, Poetry for Wild Spirits, is “out there”, my non-fiction offering, Wild Spirits is in draft form and two novels in a new series are growing daily… they continue my Silver’s Threads series but will be complete in themselves, simply tying in with some of the characters. Look out for the first in the new series Cloak of Magick around mid year, Song to a Green Moon.

Sing to the green-moon

with joyful intent

Gather pellucid moon drops

…to replenish flowers spent

Revive a failing tree with herbs that heal

Wear Her Cloak of Magicks

all truths to reveal

All ways of Magick

are hid ‘neath Her cloak

Gather waning, green-moon drops

add water and soak

…the dying and the wounded

under Mother Elm’s green boughs

But we warn you

stay clear of woodlands

 …with metal tools and plough

Art, as said, is taking on the warm tones of autumn for a new exhibition… Autumn Illuminations a new mixed media series on cotton canvas, using my own inks and dyes, eco-cloth and paper and lovely textured substances layered in between. I’ll post dates for this ehibit soon, should you be in the locale. I’d love to see you there…

Until the next time… walk softly…

Penny at Beyond the Gate Studio

All text, poetry and images are copyright, Penny Reilly, all rights reserved.

Twenty three days into 2023 and sorry, I’ve been absent from blog writing recently, due to a few health issues and other, time consuming things, such as publishing my ninth book, Poetry for Wild Spirits.

I’ll be honest… the last year was tough on several fronts for everyone, so saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

There was a very late start to summer but the rain brought in a huge hay harvest, for which farmers are always grateful but, as you can see, the landscape is already preparing itself for an early autumn. We wake to misty mornings and cool temperatures although it’s only recently, Alban Hefin/Summer Solstice/Litha. Longest day seems to have begun the sudden careening toward autumn, before any significant summer weather.

Wee alpine strawberries are multiplying, wild blackberries are in flower and slowly berries will ripen to give winter fruit, dried and frozen. The first raspberry harvest has been wonderful and as hawthorn, rowan and elderberries begin to ripen early too, same applies, with the apothecary stocked with weather medicines from nature.

In the orchard, apples and pears hang in pairs and multiples, fattening and ripening fast with all the ‘Europeanesque’ weather we’re experiencing. I don’t think I’ve ever known a summer morning, starting at 5 degrees.

Truth be told, I feel right at home with memories upsurging from my UK country childhood, running wild through wet grasses but sadly, our promising cherry crop had too much water and not enough sunshine to ripen them… possum had a ball but I hope they don’t have belly ache from all the unripe cherries. Tiny seedling cherry trees are already setting roots, where Ms Possum, dropped the seeds.

Everywhere glistens with dew droplets and the scent on the air is of soil, much and ozone.

Even hazelnut trees are laden early with their little packages of bon-bon style cases… these will be roasted or ground into a course powder for cake making.

Storm birds returned to stalk amongst the tall grasses and reeds, hunting frogs and bugs, digging their long bills into the sodden soil like spears.

Storm clouds gather daily but often circle around us, giving just a little more rain than the ground can hold but still, with tanks and waterways, ponds and dams full to overflowing, we never complain for this is the life blood of the land.

Slowly but surely, after all the delays through covid lockdown and wet weather, my little studio is taking shape, delightfully. Today, the last coat of oil goes on and we’re waiting for the tiler to return to do the floor. Then I can begin to move in and the electrician, coming back to install the PowerPoints and lighting etcetera, will have to work around me… I’m all done waiting!

Meanwhile, squashed in the corner of the dining room, my work continues for the next collaborative art exhibition in early April… autumn themed, which just happens to be my favourite palette of colour.

It’s wonderful to be able to put to use the eco inks I made from various berries and leaves, this time last year.

As they begin to take shape, I’m finding my stride. Although health issues slowed me down for quite some time, I’m beginning to feel inspired again…

And so… we head at a frighteningly fast pace on the downward slide toward the dark half of the year, barely having lifted our eyes from the last one. In just a couple of weeks it will be Lughnasadh/Lammas but our hay and grain harvest has already been gathered in a little earlier than usual.

Extraordinary sunsets and sunrises… weather patterns are pure insanity and we can’t ignore the facts of climate change, staring us in the face.

What are you doing to help combat this?

Do you think it’s too late and we’re doomed?

What are your visions for future generations or are you someone who says… oh well, I won’t be here in xxx amount of years and so pay it all forward?

I thought to add this as I begin to communicate again in blog form, a year and a day of this land-loving life of mine, about how things can be grown, preserved and how to have a pantry groaning with foods that you love, without necessarily all the pickling, fermenting and bottling, that is often too time consuming for the average household in the daily workforce and who don’t live on an off-grid farm in the wilds of the Victorian highlands. We have the advantage of solar power and perhaps soon, a little wind turbine will be the booster, rather than a generator for winter days to help charge the batteries, so for us, freezing and dehydrating foods are good options unless you really love fermented or pickled foods.

I would like to know how one would live on jars of pickles, relishes and chutney, no matter how yummy they may be, however as I watch trends of the in things unfold, rather than easily grown or readily available bulk foods. No matter where you live, it’s always possible to find a market to buy seconds (aesthetically unpleasing to the fussy eye, due to hail damage etc.) in the way of fruit and vegetables or big bags of grains, bread mixes and so on and turn them into staples for your pantry. Even if you don’t have a garden, it’s possible to beat inflation with bulk buying foods, someone else has grown and perhaps using a verandah or a sunny kitchen bench spot for growing fresh herbs, salad greens and micro sprouts.

All of the plants above will grow for you in pots too, even if you only have a tiny verandah on your apartment… a whole wall of growing things is easy to construct for very little.

Another fun thing to do, is for a group of like-minded souls, to take it in turns to share power costs and food/goods and to spend a kitchen day, processing storables for the pantry.

There are so many ways to make these practical, saving solutions work for you, despite a busy working life…

…and so my thoughts, having strayed in this direction, would love to hear about your dreams, goals and how you are tackling the world at large these days?

What are your dreams for the world and for your family, friends and even those across the oceans in war-torn, drought or flood ridden countries?

Where do you go in your dreams

Are you sure you’re awake

Do you follow your heart

or react for reacting’s sake

Where are you, when you’re dreaming

Is it a peaceful place

Do you travel to lands of beauty

to a sacred, greening space

How do you feel in the morning

are you truly here

or are you really still dreaming

’til small whispers of truth appear

Do you dream of a journey

Do you know where to

Is it long and exciting

In the dream are you still, you

Does it feel like a memory

written deep in your cells

to an island of apples

and a deep, icy well

Who travels with you

or are you alone

Do you feel you are lost

or are you travelling home…

…with warm wishes and blessings from Beyond the Gate Studio

Penny

Poetry for Wild Spirits can be purchased from the author by travelling to…

beyondthegatebypenny.etsy.com

Epub/kindle version can be purchased at…

https://www.amazon.com/author/pennyreilly

Recent floods and freak, storm weather has made us all the more aware of the changing climate. With all but a few scattered days of sunshine, spring has been a myth… although that said and despite zero degrees, nature is taking care of business; she operates by the length of daylight rather than the staged calendar cycles imposed on humanity.

Wild hedgerows are full of nesting birds… crabapple blossom has been and gone but will possibly be scant in fruit as it was too cold for the bees to be out.

Elderflower are just budding now… late for this area but the harvest will eventually be huge, now a few sunny days have arrived.

Finally… apple, pear, cherry and plum are in blossom and wild herbs are making an appearance again. Daffodil, narcissus and now bluebells and harebells are everywhere and the bees are finally out and about.

Wild ducks are chaparoning their wee flocks to ponds and dams, wandering along the trenches we dug to allow the flow of water away from our barn-house… a lone swamp hen trundles along behind… he’s elderly and not eligible for another mate the young, constantly chase him off now.

We were honoured by the visit of a pair of native black ducks… usually only the male drops in, once or twice a year but htis year he has brought his mate.

Life beyond the gate has been misted in and mystical… like an overlay of another time and space… sounds muted… nothing but the drip, drip of water from trees and the haunting call of a brush cuckoo.

It is heard in the sigh
of whispering trees
…in the notes of the calling
sent on a breeze
Deep within you can hear
A magickal song
Deep within, through the doorway
where there’s no right nor wrong
If you’re quiet …truly listen
hear the notes swell and dip
through the rush of the ocean
or the rain as it drips
from each branch that bends
with the weight of rain
or in the soft scent of evening
that dulls sharpened pain
Along the Crooked Pathway
turning left and then right
you’ll hear soft singing
to the moonrise at night
Deeper still and you’ll hear music
at the gateway in the West
from the land of all dreaming
where you complete your life’s quest
and then onward, listen
…you’ll find your own thread
in a single note that sparkles 
removing the dread
for nothing is dying
only reaching its peak
In the depths… in Her darkness
…are the symphonies you seek

Activities begin to pick up in both farm life and in the studio… my ninth book, Poetry for Wild Spirits, was published last month and has been selling well and so will become the accompanying volume to Wild Spirits the work in progress currently… snippets of this will be posted here in my blog soon.

Alongside the farm/garden work and writing are commissioned art works that came out of the blue to stimulate my creativity, no end… three small watercolour pieces and my biggest work yet… a mixed media of huge dimension, that I honestly am quite nervous about starting, so I’ll sit awhile with the blank canvas and the theme requested and then we’ll see what is visualised and hopefully, manifested.

All is a work in progress… nature, art, writing, photography, publishing… all keep me busy and prosperous on one level or another… all is in balance at Beyond the Gtae Farm and Studio…

Blessings… Penny

Poetry for Wild Spirits and Penny’s 8 other books are available, directly through her and on Amazon for the Epub/kindle edition. Wholesale enquiries can be made to Ingram Publishing.

All text, poetry and art/photography is copyright the author, Penny Reilly.

All rights reserved.

The ocean tides, whittle away at the shoreline as we wear away our lives, often in needless struggles for understanding.

As children, we fight to maintain our identity until parental expectation, educational institutions and peer pressures, whittle away at our personality, character and psyche until we’re swamped, drowning, in other’s expectations of how they perceive we should be.

Letting go of guilt-induced reactions to how others respond to our internal change, can be like running a marathon… but when does the adult self, stop apologising for who they are, despite the constant inner and outer critique.

This is the pivotal moment, when we can realise, we are in fact, our inner parent or teacher, continuing to hear and be instructed by the echo of their physical counterparts instead of learning to simply be ourselves.

The thing is… nature doesn’t judge how we behave, how we express ourselves or criticise who we intrinsically are, with or without societies trappings, just as a daisy doesn’t wish to be a rose.

Nature doesn’t judge the leaves falling, leaving branches bare or new leaves budding, on near-naked limbs.

Life in all its ages and stages is a precious gift so why waste it, desiring to be something we were not designed to be?

Life, when delved into, without agenda is a rich, fulfilling and never to be repeated, journey… grasp it… dive in…

Hollowing out
emptying
seeking
the purpose of life
in simply being
Giving up
the fight for more
allows
unhindered
flow
Just living
Simply being
with no place
left to go
Past
present
future
merges
the well of life
upsurges
the wheel spins
on and round
All places
all seasons
emerge
as sacred ground

Blessings from the between…

Wall softly… find the true you…

Awen /|\

Penny

Art, photography and verse copyright ©️ Penny Reilly, all rights reserved.