Hay harvest, my favourite time of year when summer peaks, not that we’ve had much of one, but I for one cherish the feel of an elongated spring that seems to stretch through to winter.
Our farming neighbours take the hay, clearing our fields just in case we have a dry spell when fires are more prevalent and snakes slither through more often… their livestock is in turn, fed on rich grasses and clover in winter.
By Lughnasadh, second harvest on 2nd February, we will organise a locals gathering for our little community. A sharing, great company, good food and wine and a time to say thank you for the abundance we share.
Berries will be harvest ready in batches… they pair well with local meats and cheeses. Fresh tomatoes will be coming on too, beetroots pickled and pesto blended, caramelised spring onion dip created, all made to smother on crusty bread… nothing fancy, just fresh, home produce…
There’s a magic and mystery to the time of year as things grow and pull back, release and renew only to release again… it’s not always obvious unless you live as closely as we do to the land and the cycles. As I sit writing, there’s a scent drifting in the windows of earth, wet grass, roses, lavender and sage flowers… bees are busy; hens are wandering through the orchard and we have a respite for a few hours from the rumbling thunder and accompanying wind and rain, still heard in the distance.
Still, I’ve managed to plant more lettuce and marigolds, harvest onion, coriander and parsnip seeds for another cycle of growing… meanwhile, David has put together another hencoop for the new girls when they come on to lay.
Nothing much going on here 😀
Early this morning there was a mizzly-drizzle, covering everything and reducing visibility to zero but it steamed off leaving the exquisite scent behind of oak moss.
We often have four seasons in one day!
ENDLESS DREAMS
In the mists of time where all made sense of the rhyme there are sounds that stream like an endless dream …passing in notes sublime Who were they who walked the Old Way to where did they stray when they left that day You can hear them still put your ear to the hill …you’ll hear the wild music they play Rhythms grow the trees dance and blow in an unseen wind off the heath Drums rumble summoning from beneath The earth splits wide pouring out the Fae ride …their songs they do bequeath Walk softly, they sing let joy your notes bring to a world that is cold …a world grown old Let go your fears treasure passing years …let go, no need to cling Joy will return, Bellies fed, passions burn as their music slowly returns Let your feet tap and glide while their gentle notes slide Fill to the brim …your soul that yearns
Wild, my environment… and the closer I grow in understanding and awareness through its changing face…
…with warm wishes and blessings for the holiday season and beyond,
Sorry, sorry… it’s been a while… late February and the season is already shifting from summer into autumn… a strangely cool summer and wet, too. A week or so ago there was a major storm in our region but once again, it skirted around our hilltop home acres. Let’s hope today’s storm warning does the same, although a drop more rain now would be wonderful to top up ponds and rainwater tanks. ‘Beyond the Gate,’ feels like a place centred in the magic of the earth and the kindly spirit; the Genius loci, is one of benevolence, strength and protection.
The last few mornings has seen us veiled in peat-scented, eucalyptus-perfumed, mists. Temperatures have been dropping from mid to high twenties, down to five to six degrees overnight… a very early change indeed as February has the tendency to be the hottest, summer month even in our naturally cooler climate. Not so however for surrounding areas, sadly, as wildfires rage, about ninety kilometres away, with great intensity.
At this time of year, creatures begin to go to ground… curling up in the long and probably exhausted sleep, after the courtship rituals and birthing of new generations is complete. That said, I saw the strange sight of a brand new wood duck, duckling family very late in the season. This couple lost almost their entire first clutch in spring to hawk and fox, so second time around is hopefully the charm, with nine wee ones as shown below.
Hedgerows are filled with crabapples, blackberries, rowan, hawthorn and elderberries… sometimes I feel as if I’m back in the Isles on an autumn day, where we would forage along country lanes and across the wild fields of my childhood… perhaps our deep connections from one place to another, links us on the byways between worlds… opening portals to remembered places of well-being and allowing the recall of those days to manifest elsewhere.
All things and places in the pathways of our mind are linked to another… everything is connected, spreading out to infinity like a tapestry of shining threads. Perhaps the Fae of those past days along with our ancestral culture, follow us down these lanes where our spirit was the happiest.
There’s a doorway
that takes us
to a timeless space
where all that we dream
may be found in one place
Offering ourselves
to the byways between
brings truth to our journey
to where we’ve already been
We can never go back
only here in the now
do we remember those times
when we made a sacred vow
to walk the crooked pathways
turning left and then right
beyond pain and pleasure
beyond the fear of night
to journey out of the darkness
into the warmth
…of Her light
…and so the season changes, the year moves on, hurtling towards Mabon/Alban Elued (Light of the Water) or autumn equinox to many.
Our harvest time is abundant… cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, apples, rhubarb, onions, garlic and soon, pumpkin will form on the vines and table grapes, too… not to mention more herbs than we could possibly use, are hanging to dry in the dark, to retain their colour, some to be made into pesto to freeze. I’ve begun the process of making preserves, freezing and drying to top us up with fresh produce for winter.
This year, so much has been achieved already with groundwork done for a second greenhouse and four young hens added to our small flock as the older girls ceased laying… they will enjoy their elder days, foraging in the garden and still providing wonderful nutrients for our soil.
Everything in balance… to harvest and replace, equals renewal!
Perpetual flow
rolling in
season to season
Blessed days
of sunshine
and shadow
reflected
in how
we walk our way
in balance
…wading
through emotional
waters deep
or rivulet shallow
or exhilarated
dive
immersing self
in life
and grounded
let seeds fall
in fields
…once fallow
I promise to attempt to be more regular with my posts… summer/autumn are naturally busy times Beyond the Gate and in the quieter places between, my work continues on the tenth book, Wild Spirits Live Beyond the Gate… a book of days and new art, photography, poetry and text are currently simmering in the creative cauldron.
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.
Our view over the Wombat National Park across to Mt Wilson, swathed in early summer mists…
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 /|\
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.
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…
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…
Native Blue Banded Australian Bee on Nasturtium flower… not seen for a couple of years…
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…
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
Meanwhile, at Beyond the Gate Studio, inside where it’s snug and warm, creativity is alive and well after another sort through and clean out of old ‘stuff’. Who knows how it all accumulates because I’m not really a hoarder but lovely paper, pens, inks and paints seem to ‘breed’ as if with a will of their own 😊 (yes, who did bring those extra packs of Posca pens home?) …it’s a mystery 🤭Far less messy than previously… it adds to my wellbeing to have a reasonably tidy but not sterile space to work…
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.
Tap, tap, tap… can I come in, please…
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.’
Miss Wabbly…
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.
Girl with the forest inside…
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…
Penny Reilly Artist Beyond the Gate 
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