Oak Apples

Oak Apple

I found these decorative little apples on a walk last weekend, then returned later with my camera. Rarely have I seen them so beautifully coloured – just like the apples they are named after.

Oak apples and other galls have been used to make ink since at least Roman times, and it was the most commonly used ink from the 9th to the 20th century in Europe – it is still used for legal records in the UK such as birth, marriage and death certificates because it is both permanent and waterproof. Best used in a disposable quill pen rather than your best fountain pen!

To make it, first you need some galls that have been vacated by the wasp and are dry. Crush them to powder, then add warm water and iron in some form, eg rusty nails or filings, and cover. Keep in a warm place to ferment for a few days. Then drain off the ink, filtering out the solids if necessary, and store it in an airtight container. It has a fairly short shelf-life; oxidation reveals the ink and turns it darker on the page, but isn’t so helpful before it has been formed into writing! The ink is also quite acidic, being formed from tannic acid and iron – although apparently crushed egg shells can be used to neutralise it and prevent it from degrading the paper.

Oak Apple

Medicinally oak apples can be used like oak bark to stop internal bleeding. However while chewing bark is fine, I cannot recommend chewing an oak apple – they are about the most astringent of all vegetable compounds. Instead, use a decoction. They are also known for curing dysentery.

There is not a lot of folklore associated with the oak apple. However, it is said that if a “worm” (larva) is found inside the gall on Michaelmas Day (29th September) then the year will be pleasant and unexceptional, if a fly is found inside it will be a moderate season, but if a spider is found, then it will be a bad year with food shortages and ruined crops. If nothing is found however, then serious diseases will occur all that year.

Group of Oak Apples

The oak apples used to have a much greater significance in England, being used as decorations on Oak Apple Day, 29th May. The mid 1600s saw civil war in England, followed by a very Puritan Commonwealth rule. All sorts of traditional festivities and activities were banned, such as Maypole dancing, Christmas decorations or feasting, carol singing, theatres, inns, football or other sports, walking on a Sunday except to or from church, and even wearing colourful clothes or makeup etc. Even the various Medieval Saints’ Feast days were stopped, and instead Fast days were introduced once a month. It was on his birthday, 29th May, in 1660 that Charles II rode triumphantly into London to return as King. The day was declared a holiday and was entirely given over to dancing, feasting and merry-making – and the event was repeated every year. The story of how he hid in an oak tree to escape parliamentarian forces became widespread and led to the Oak tree becoming the symbol both for this day and of England. To show their loyalty and support for the monarchy and its restoration, doorways were decorated with oak boughs and people wore sprigs of oak in their clothing or on their hats – of which oak apples are the most decorative part at the end of May. They were liable to be punished with pinching or nettles if they failed to do so!

Oak Apple

While this holiday has become much less known since the Victorians removed it from the official calendar (a day given over to merry-making didn’t fit well in that period!) it is still celebrated in various villages and towns around the country – including Castleton in Derbyshire where they hold a garland parade every year on this day.

A Soggy Imbolc

I am feeling a bit of a theme to Sabbats at the moment – all of the recent ones seem determined to get me wet! However it was not from above that I got a soaking, but from below.

I like to make Brigid Crosses to honour the goddess at this time of year, and although I have used crocosmia stems from my garden successfully in the past, this year they were well past it and shredded for compost. So instead I went on a search for the traditional plant used, the common or field rush, Juncus effusus, being a good Brigid green all year.

Rushes are not a plant that grow in abundance where I live – which is on the top of a hill – even in this damp year we have been having. However a drainage ditch put in a few years ago alongside a minor road a short distance from me has been colonised by some very interesting flora, including rushes. So on Sunday afternoon, once the rain had stopped, we had a family walk returning by way of the ditch so that I could cut a few stems.

This year the timing of the verge cutting left no rushes growing out of the top of the ditch. The only plants with leaves long enough to cut where those growing low down near the water level, out of the sides of the gabions from which the ditch is constructed. It wasn’t deep, I had wellies on, so I jumped in next to the first likely looking plant – and yes was able to cut several stems that were suitable. But not enough for a cross, unless I left the poor plant with nothing left to grow from. (There is not an abundance of rushes here!) So I asked for a hand out of the ditch, and then stepped down again at the next place where there were three rush plants growing close together. All good, until I tried to climb out again.

Having moved downstream, the layer of mud in the bottom of the concrete-lined ditch was about twice as deep as my first place. Wellie was not released by said mud, and instead bent over at the top and filled with water. Result: one very wet foot. The rushes were exacting their payment. Brigid was anointing me with her water. And I was laughing too hard to do anything.

The strange thing is since that event, I have felt her presence very strongly back in my life, guiding me forward. I have been exploring other directions a little over the winter, and become very aware of Elen of the Ways, the only horned goddess, amongst others. I realise that each year I seem to experience a different goddess in Winter when Brigid is less present, Danu and Hecate both having been strong forces in recent years. Yet now Spring has returned it is Brigid again, with her crafting skills in particular. It is a familiar, comforting and relaxing feeling to return to what I know. However, she has been showing me how I can use my own crafting skills to bring more love into the world thus taking what I know to a new level, as well as how I can work with water, Earth’s “living love”, to honour the Earth and help bring healing. I will of course be writing as much as I am able here, fulfilling the third of Brigid’s three aspects…

A Quest for Good Handwriting

About every eight or nine years I seem to have a sudden need to improve my handwriting, and have been struck by the urge again this week. For Yule I was given a very beautiful fountain pen with a barrel made from an old oak whisky barrel which I use for writing in my pagan journals – and then of course I have had no computer for a few days while it was being rebuilt (see previous post). I was amused to then discover it was National Handwriting Day last weekend; who knows if it influenced me subconsciously!

Generally when I have worked on my penmanship skills as an adult, it has been to look at an aspect of calligraphy rather than my basic handwriting, concentrating on writing slowly and beautifully. But this isn’t necessarily useful for every day, which has made me question what actually makes ‘good handwriting’?

To help me in my own handwriting improvement endeavours, I tried writing out the alphabet and various short phrases in as many different ways and styles as came easily to me. The slower I wrote the more rounded the letters were able to be, and more regular the size and slant of letters. Some of it looks great, but when I tried to write something longer my writing returned to my usual style again: small, with a slightly irregular forward slant, angular not curvy (which I prefer to look at), and longer down strokes than fit standard proportions. Better than what I learned at school, but not something instantly pleasing to the eye or easily readable by other people.

Most of what I currently write by hand is in personal notebooks, such as recording journeys, or moon jottings, or ideas for stories, or other personal writings. Pretty much all pagan-related in some way, and not generally for anyone else to read. I do, however, need to write at a reasonable speed or else the time lapse between thought and pen becomes too great. I could of course spend several hours practicing letter forms so that neater writing became more natural to my fingers, but I’m still not sure that would create the fast, relaxed writing style I want.

Then I realised I had missed an interesting aspect of handwriting – that it gives something of the character and feelings of the person who wrote it. In this modern age when almost everything else I do is typed, and I can type quicker than write, there is far less need for regularity of handwriting. If I need ‘regular’ for a letter or card, then I can use a suitable type face, or do calligraphy if it is only a few words. But for fast writing that only I see, why not let my writing express something of me? If the lines rise in excitement, or fall in frustration, why does it matter? I would rather be someone who is looking forward, impulsive, imaginative, and has my feet on the ground, than be a conventional, copy-book writer with no outlet for self-expression. I have finally realised I don’t need to change it.

Although I have been inspired to improve my calligraphy further…

Looking Backwards, Looking Forwards

The Roman God Janus, who gave his name to January, has two faces so that he is able to look forwards and backwards at the same time. At the beginning of last year I wrote about the things that I hoped to achieve over the year – in the hopes that writing them down would give me the help I needed to make sure they happened. So now honesty compels me to find that list and see if I actually managed any of it… as well as looking forwards to work out where I want to go this year.

Sewing – well I did finish the quilt of Pooh’s map, and posted a photo of the completed quilt on my wall in April. I have managed quite a few other sewing projects besides, most of which don’t appear here! Somehow the more I manage to complete, the more projects seem to appear so I now seem to have a list of clothes to make as well as quilting projects for my new sanctuary space and altar that will keep me busy for the whole year and beyond at current rates of progress!

Stained Glass – er… I’m glad to say one window I made three years ago finally got fitted (Oak Sunrise, see December post), but no new work was started. Unfortunately I think I’m still a few months off, as this year’s priority is to finish the building work. So my glass tools will have to go back into storage again. But maybe I’ll manage something small towards the end of the year if all goes well.

Bodhran playing – I have made a start, and some osteopathy work early last year definitely freed up my shoulders and arms for better playing. I have started to get the feel of the instrument and what it can do, and find that the more bodhran practice I get in the easier it is to play a simple steady beat for journeying. (When M doesn’t want to join in, that is!) But I haven’t found a regular ‘practice slot’ yet and it shows! This is definitely on my list of things to do this year! As well as to drum some healing for the Earth in an outdoor location.

Working with elementals – well the garden is now completely replanned to bring in some water features, more flowers, and make it a fun, relaxing space for all. For this coming year I hope to establish a wildlife pond and get the building work finished, so that where there are currently piles of bricks I might be able to reclaim the space as garden. However, having dug six red bricks, a paver and a blue brick out of a small test hole for the pond this weekend, the brick piles are likely to get bigger rather than smaller in the short term! (So far we have dug 4,500 bricks out of our garden, which is about the size of a singles tennis court. They have proved very useful for the extension, but would have been better left in their original arrangement!) So I have felt inspired by elementals, and seem to get some good guidance in meditations about how to develop the garden. But as for working directly with them, I seem to spend my time focussing on weather rather than what is right here. Who knows what direction this will go.

Climbing the Wainwrights. Well I spent a week in Cumbria and managed precisely zero hills to tick off his list. The one new hill, two tops, were too low to be included, given that they were below the mist level and also within M’s capabilities. Interestingly however, the guidance I received on a journey was that it would be good exercise for me and help get me fit if I climbed them all, but it was more important for me to get to know the valleys and the streams. Well I did plenty of that!

Swimming in Dunnerdale – well I said it might take me eight years! Last year I managed a bit of stream and sea paddling in bare feet, maybe this year I’ll get as far as swimming somewhere…

And finally one to add to my list for this year, to make time and space for my writing, so that I can finish the tree stories I have started, and get back to writing longer stories without loosing the flow. With writing also comes reading, because for me the latter inspires the former. However while it was easy to read books when M was little and feeding all the time (provided they could be held in one hand); it is proving much harder to find the time to stop and read for myself as she gets older and more active, and as my ever growing list of things I want or need to do take priority!

I am reminded by looking at this list that there are only so many hours in a day, and at best only two of them are mine to do what I like with. But keeping that small part of me alive and focussed on the things I want to do gives me a sense of well-being and achievement – and writing it down like this helps me do that. However another theme has emerged for me from doing this list: I notice how for the first time every single item has a connection to the Earth in some way. I have over the past ten years experienced moments of acute homesickness for places which are most definitely not Earth as I currently know her, and at times I have found this quite hard to deal with. But this past year, I have also noticed how when I make strong connections not just with where I am but the Earth herself, her rivers and hills, her weather, I seem to find a stronger sense of purpose in me being in this life, here right now. That is something which will guide me going forwards, in what I do, and how I celebrate Sabbats.

Dreams

I nearly did a terrible thing this month: I nearly gave up a dream.

For a long time I have dreamed of getting a book published. I have started several since I attempted my first novel when I was about twelve, and three (one non-fiction, two fiction) reached the stage of being sent off to agents.

‘The Musical English’, my first full length book, is subtitled a social history of two thousand years of English Music. The first notes for it were made twenty years ago, and most of the work was done five years later when I had some time and a computer. I even had some positive feedback, had I recognised it for what it was at the time, but eventually I decided there wasn’t enough original work in it and I moved on.

My second completed book was a novel about a group of young people learning white water canoeing, called ‘Not For Lemmings’. Again I learned a huge amount by writing it, about me, about canoeing, and about how to write. The number of rejection slips increased.

I started a new novel, ‘A Chance To Paint’ that I hoped would have more direct appeal to agents and publishers, a life-changing story about a young woman who is sent to look after her Great Aunt and after a series of sometimes dramatic events, never returns. Lots of agents say they love it, but don’t feel they can take it on. So I started yet another novel.

Then I got pregnant with M, so stopped writing for a while. I began this blog, and the tree stories which have the advantage of being written only to please the trees and myself. I’m being slow, I don’t find I can get into short stories in the same way as full length novels, but I also can’t get into full length novels when my time is constantly interrupted by the demands of a toddler. I redit A Chance To Paint, and remember how much I liked it and other people liked it, and send it off again to get some more rejections.

I start a plan for a new book, having finally decided not to finish what I started pre-M.

Then suddenly I get a crazy idea for a novel based on a fairytale, follow it for a few days, get very excited. Until real life intervenes. I have a house to get finished, a garden I want to redesign, clothes to make or shopping to do, and a little girl who I want to spend time with. I realised something had to give, and being a lot less attached to things than I used to be, it was the writing which felt like the luxury ‘extra’.

At this point I should have felt freer, a lightening of the load, of all the things I was trying to do. I did briefly. So that was that, I thought.

Except several days later I had a realisation: I wasn’t happy. This wasn’t particularly connected to anything, apart from a questionnaire on happiness where I was scoring myself only 6 or 7 out of ten in most areas and noticed my health had slipped down to a 5. I realised I felt a bit ‘flat’, even to the point where I didn’t feel excited about anything I was doing (sewing, gardening, reading, piano, etc) and it was only M that was keeping me going. I suddenly realised I was back to where I was a few years ago, or maybe worse because then I was on an upwards curve, whereas this one was flat. And not only that, but my health was getting worse again, with stiff hip joints and then a bad cold settling on my chest causing me all kinds of problems. This wasn’t a me I recognised right now, so what had happened? Why were things all going in the wrong direction? Then it dawned on me, my decision about writing was wrong. It had extinguished my inner flame. I have spent so much time over the past few years trying to work out what I should be doing and where I should be going, and yet somehow I had never realised that writing was my dream!!!

It was almost as bad as when I was a teenager, and nearly didn’t study music. (I was studying Maths, Physics Chemistry A-levels, but filling all my free time with music…) A serious depression set in, until I made what was then a brave decision to go against all advice, and suddenly everything felt good again. This was the same, in a minor form since I worked out the problem sooner, but what a colourless half-life I would be living if I hadn’t!

So I did a visualisation to not only see myself writing, but also to relight my inner flame. It filled my whole body and shot out of my arms and head. It is still burning now, with maybe a few holes where I don’t want them and where my body has temporarily lost trust in me, but I am on the mend. My writing is going better than I could have imagined, and somehow I just gave myself permission to write. Non-attachment might be a great thing, but not where dreams are concerned. Because if I don’t follow my dream, what am I doing here?

Tree Stories 7 – Larch

Autumn larch at woodland edge (Shotover Estate, Oxfordshire)

Autumn larch at woodland edge
(Shotover Estate, Oxfordshire)


Larch story is now published on its own page, please follow the links above.

Larch is one of those trees which goes unnoticed by me for much of the year, and then, thanks to its deciduous nature, suddenly announces its presence in Spring or Autumn when it is a completely different colour to all the trees around it. Its needles are some of the softest to stroke of all conifers, and the most cheerful bright green that I always love seeing them. They do grow in Derbyshire, although not locally to me, but the place where I will always remember them in in Glen Nevis. I had two days to myself in the area one April about ten years ago, and spent the first walking up Ben Nevis. It was a hot sunny day, views were spectacular, and the last thousand feet had deep snow underfoot. The next day I was feeling a little tired and stiff, so I planned a shorter walk in the opposite direction, over Cow hill to drop down into Fort William and then back along the river Nevis. Struggling up the hill I came to a group of larches with their first leaves of Spring just opening, and felt the most wonderful, uplifting freshness that carried me onwards and through the rest of my walk.

Introduced to Britain in the seventeenth century for its knot free, virtually waterproof timber, larch is commonly used for yachts, buildings, roof shingles and interior panelling, fences and posts, and also coffins. Venice was built almost exclusively of larch wood. They often grow on the south side of a plantation as they like much more open sunny conditions than most pine trees. They also act as a firebreak, thanks to their thick bark and very hard wood. However their natural home is in the mountains, where they are also likely to find the clear air they prefer being fairly intolerant of pollutants such as sulphur dioxide.

Larch was traditionally worn or burned to protect against enchantments or evil spirits. It was used to help with fertility issues, childless women believing that spending the night under a Larch would help them conceive a baby, and the timber was used for babies cradles. With this in mind, the story given to me to write by larch was somewhat unexpected, but it does tie in surprisingly well with the Bach remedy of using larch for people who feel that they are not as competent as others, lack confidence in their ability to do things well, or even assume they will fail so don’t bother to try.

As I write this, larch trees are leaving Britain. Along with several other tree species, the time has come that they are no longer able to grow healthily in the climate and conditions we have created for them. In this particular case, it is the fungal disease Phytophthora ramorum providing the symptoms of their “dis-ease”, which is that it has become too wet and earthy for what is essentially an airy sort of tree. Also known as sudden oak death, P. ramorum spreads rapidly through weakened trees and has in the past few years invaded many of the plantations in the south west of England, Wales and Scotland. The “cure” is apparently to remove all the trees, not just the infected ones, so millions have been cut down in the last few years, with many more facing the same fate, destroying the work already done and leaving the land and the watercourses in a poor state for at least another generation. This is supposedly to save the infection from spreading, and getting into oak trees.

I like to try and find something positive in a situation, no matter how bleak it might at first appear, so here is how I see it. The Earth will survive whatever happens. Spirit is timeless and endless and will not be destroyed by us, but take new forms. As humans however, we have an opportunity to become more aware of how we are treating our planet and the other living beings which inhabit it, and to make the necessary changes. On a personal level, I see it as an opportunity to learn how to connect with trees and the earth closer. I am starting to find where or how I can help, and to develop the skills needed with the guidance and encouragement of my spirit friends. Like my work with weather, the first step is to create balance in my local area, and then expand outwards when I am ready. I would love to hear from others doing this type of work in their area.

Autumn larch tree, 4-sailed windmill in background.  (Shotover Estate, Oxfordshire)

Autumn larch tree, 4-sailed windmill in background.
(Shotover Estate, Oxfordshire)

Tree Stories 2 – Silver Birch

When I posted the first entry under Tree Stories, on 2 August, I said that I had completed another story. Here it is: Silver Birch.

I delayed posting the story first because it is so different to the Sweet Chestnut story, and not at all what I actually planned to write, and second because I hadn’t managed to take any photographs to accompany it yet. I have now realised that neither of these reasons matter. This story is the one that got written, and Silver Birch is happy with it; Birch likes the fact it suggests a way of actually working with a tree. And while it would be nice to have all the pictures I could want to choose from to accompany the story, well this is planet Earth where things happen at a certain pace and I can only be in one physical place at a time. They will follow when the time is right.

I love the delicacy of silver birch, the incredible fresh green of the Spring leaves, and the light it brings with its bark in the midst of winter, and yet with all that it is the hardiest of all broad-leaved trees. It is one of the first colonisers of new ground, because it is shallow rooted gaining purchase from minimal soil cover or cracks between rocks, and because it can work with almost any available fungus to help get the nutrients it needs; it has the second highest number of fungi associated with it of any tree, after beech. It is particularly useful for reclaiming old mining areas, stabilising the soil and creating the root conditions that allow other plants to grow. For these reasons it is the tree to call on for help when you are beginning something new, or to support new life.

The wood itself is light in colour, and can have interesting rippling effects running through it. It was traditionally used for clogs, as well as children’s toys and bobbins. Twigs make a good broom, a popular use for witches. However it is the bark which sees the majority of uses: roofing, baskets, making cord, weaving shoes, nets, plates, rolled torches, parchment, and of course canoes, thanks to the resins serving to give it some water resistance.

I have used tea made from the leaves to cure cystitis, and the rising sap is apparently good for preventing kidney stones – as well as being turned into drinks, for the sugars can be concentrated by boiling, or fermented into an alcoholic wine or mead.

There was for a while a silver birch growing out of the top of a building in a nearby town centre that used to make me smile every time I saw it. I first mistook it for a Christmas tree, since it was nicely centred in the middle of a false-fronted two storey shop, but it carried on growing to a good six feet high before it was removed. Can’t imagine it did the building much good, but how wonderful it was to see it growing there!

Why Write?

Ever since I was a teenager I have liked to explore ideas through writing about them. Strangely I got into writing because I was very poor at expressing myself by talking; the words I wanted always seemed to arrive long after the time they were needed. I started keeping a diary as a teenager, like so many people do, and found an outlet, a way of exploring what I was feeling, of working out what I should have said at the time. The diaries (there were two) served their purpose in allowing me to express myself and work out what I was feeling, but gradually they went from a daily exploration to something to be written when I was feeling unhappy or lonely. They became downward spirals, dwelling on what was wrong without any balance of what was right, or even any plans for the future. When I found them during a clear-out in my early twenties, I burned them. I had moved on and didn’t want that in my life; with hindsight transforming them with fire was probably the best thing I could have done.

A little later I became a letter writer. This was a much happier form of writing, as there was someone to respond to and it was a two-way process. The friendship aspect of this was and is important to me, but on a personal level there was a greater benefit. I came to realise that by the time a letter arrives any negative thoughts no longer apply; they frequently either made no sense to the recipient, or else simply worried the recipient into thinking there was something wrong when in fact it was now fine. I therefore found myself editing them out and trying to put a more positive spin on what I was trying to say. It helped me to see things in a different way as well, and with a bit of distance, see what I learned from whatever experiences I had been through. I found this a helpful process in my life.

Earlier this year I started this blog, for a whole range of reasons, but a key one was that some of my letter writing was coming to an end and I wasn’t ready to stop writing down my experiences in a way that I could continue learning from them. One of the most fascinating things I have found is how I sometimes find myself writing truths that I didn’t know I knew. For example, the new page I have created, “About this blog”, wrote itself from just the germ of an idea, triggered by this post, and I now fully understand why I am a witch and not a shaman or a druid. Aconitum (12 July) told me about itself as I was writing, and I made the hitherto unconsidered connection with Yew. There have been others, including some still unpublished posts, where I started with one idea and then learned something quite unexpected.

There are of course many other benefits to writing a regular blog. It gives me a reason to write regularly and not make excuses as to why I can’t find the time this week. Another is maintaining my sense of self, not always easy with a toddler underfoot. It even gives me an incentive to complete a craft project that seems to be taking weeks, or to go out with a camera when I want to include some photos in a post.

However there is a good reason why witches often carve runes or sigils or other forms of writing onto candles before using them as part of a spell. Words have power and intent, and used positively, can create real change. For example, I can have an idea of something I would like to do, but the chances of success are around 30% at best. Writing down my ideas or desires increases the likelihood of them happening – because I have stated my intent clearly, and over-ridden some of my doubts or negative programming. I probably have a 60% success rate when I do this. But telling others of my intentions, such as blogging about them, increases this power to the point that, provided the circumstances don’t change, they happen. Success rate is at least 90%. Magic.

Best Laid Plans…

Bench under a Rowan tree

Bench under a Rowan tree

When I started this blog I made a list of things I could write about, and one of most important of these, unsurprisingly, was Rowan. I was saving it for when the trees came into flower, and planned to take a photo to use for the title picture instead of the Mistylake picture supplied by WordPress. It would show the feathery green leaves, along with creamy white flowers, and underneath the tree I was hoping to capture either a certain local bench for sitting on and contemplating life (above), or if I could frame a picture appropriately, then a rather lovely stone circle in Derbyshire which has a Rowan tree overlooking it. I could even photograph the small tree in my garden; the ‘under’ aspect is a bit lacking but it will come!

I love the Rowan tree in flower; it wasn’t until I smelt the blossom that I really understood where the name of Quickening Tree came from, but to do so is to experience such an intense energy rising up that you feel anything is possible. While the red berries are also important, they come as the energies are withdrawing and spiralling back down into the earth in the autumn. It is probably not a coincidence that red often symbolises the underworld in Celtic mythology.

As the trees started to come into flower, I started taking the camera out each day when I went walking. Blossom only tends to last until the flowers have been pollinated; after this point they shed their petals and the bees and other insects move on to the next species. So day one, Saturday, I had just reached the tree with the bench when the threatening rain decided to suddenly bucket down. My immediate thoughts were to get the rain covers over the pushchair as quickly as possible, and leave the camera in the drybag! Day two, would you believe it the same thing happened. I usually avoid rain on my walks, unless I am in the mood for a cleansing, or am doing the walk as part of a ritual or meditation where I almost always get sun, wind and rain and possibly also lightening or hail. But not this time! The next two days I walked other places, the weather not being conducive to photography, but I planned Wednesday around getting the photo, when it was predicted to be sunny. The sun duly arrived, but imagine my dismay to find a note on the table telling me the camera had been ‘borrowed’ for the day… it wasn’t even used until Thursday! As I was unable to get to the tree again until Saturday, I wasn’t surprised to find that all the blossom had fallen off or turned brown, and there wasn’t a creamy white flower to be seen.

I will admit to being quite upset, especially on the Wednesday, because I knew then that with a sudden heat-wave the blossom wouldn’t last. However, when I analysed my feelings I realised that most of my upset was due to having been wrong – I was so sure this was the picture I was meant to have on my blog! Clearly it wasn’t meant to be, so I had to accept that and start exploring other ideas.

My thoughts were first that a ‘craft’ blog maybe needed more ‘craft’ than just pointing and shooting with a camera. Second I realised that I could also explore the ‘under’ aspect a little further; the bench is very popular and I have often sat there to pause for a few minutes, but I didn’t actually make the bench or plant the tree… I haven’t quite worked out how I am going to do it yet, but I have had various animals or nature spirits offer me their support and say that they would like to be included. Watch this space, as they say…

Anyway, it seems very appropriate that it is post number 13 that has proved the most unexpected, and has pushed me onto a new path!