4th April
There is a crack in the curtains and the sun rising from behind the Cromdales pierces through. My eyelids do little to stop the light, and I see my blood, capillaries, fill with warmth and dance with delight as this brief promise of a day wakes me from slumber. It’s hard not to smile into it all, and send out my delight into the world. Every drop of sun beam is welcome here, welcome to warm my skin and shrink my pupils.
5th April
A precious walk, with chatter and childhood wonder. My visions remain the same – another sit by the deep dark bog of Anagach Woods. The sky shows no whisper of cloud or vapour, it is blank with an openness I can’t explain. A day moon, and a whisper of “day moon’ to solidify its presence in my mind. This is a ritual. See it, say it. There… A curious throw of a pebble to see how it would be swallowed into the black water. Maybe there’s a mammoth in there.
7th April
I am basking in warmth, in days of heat accumulating, savouring the glorious feelings that come when Spring has settled. Smiling at the soil beneath my fingernails, green shoots of curious origin, and the most comforting sound of doves pairing.
I walk through the pine forest towards the river, a slow pace. I breathe the air deep, it’s scented molecules of warmed needles. I think the whole strath must be happy today. Pine needles get stuck between my toes. I’ve missed this, sandal season and the feel of earth and grit on my feet.
Approaching the river I can see it shifting and twisting, contorting and moving with such delicacy and intrigue that I’m briefly awestruck. The light and shadow, like a body dancing so freely I am immediately jealous of it. Cold to touch and the tingles rush up my spine, either from the shock or the joy… I’m not sure which.
Under a shady ash, and a slight chill on the breeze makes my arms prickle. The water rushes gently and clearly, swiftly and concisely moving around the boulders that are no longer submerged.
21st April
The broadleaf tress are still working on spreading their leaves. But the larch emerging is breathtaking. Prickles of neon green needles line my pathway. These young trees were far smaller when I first walked this path, and I walk alongside them still. One day they will tower over me. They will certainly outlive me. It’s gives me an immense feeling of fragility and gratitude, tangled into one. Some days my mortality makes me feel broken to pieces inside, but today there is a calm sense in it all. I think it is the effect of being amongst it, the things that will eat my molecules when I ultimately return to the earth… an odd belonging.
I take it all in, maybe for the last time this season, the glorious colours of the mosses and lichens, before the green push of foliage overshadow it all. The bare branches of peppermint will soon be barely visible. The juniper stops me, the tongues of fire shocking amongst the steady flow of greys and greens. I investigate it all fully, curiosity leading to spiked and scratched arms and ankles. I continue to wonder about it as I walk home.
24th April
I go off path today, noticing a gently trodden route up through the old birch, a fence climb is required. It is warm, and the morning light glitters through the freshly burst leaves. Small birds flit. This is a haven.
The tiny leaves emerging create a glorious canopy. I’m shooting film and want to incorporate them into my developer. I forage the lower leaves… a child-like experience pressing leaves between fingers softly, pulling them away from the lower stems rolling them between finger and thumb, moving through the forest visiting each tree, ritualistic. Like a deer or small grazing animal, gentle and slow, respectful and part of it all.
I come across the old rowans, no leaves yet, but bark like paper. I start to peel off a section and there lies a sleeping spider. I place it back and I hope I’ve not caused too much stress. The goat willow is humming, buzzing with bees, her early flowers showing their importance. A tree I hope to spend more and more time with, a tree my shadow already crosses often.
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