Tag Archives: Trees

The Magpie Told Me…

Last week I decided to believe in magic again; after being reminded about the strange story of the sketchbook that foretold my future . It all seems so unlikely –  a Dorian Gray kind of spell – except instead of getting eternal youth (sadly) the picture seemed to have been an oracle leading me on a journey far removed from my own chosen direction and wishes at the time.

So now I’m looking for small everyday magic and finding it as I walk ; from the friendly face I spotted in the tree this evening, to the hare gently loping along the path in front of me, before slipping into the long grass and invisibility. I’ve been inspired by some of the people I’ve “met” on Instagram such as Milla, “The Woman who Married a Bear“, to rekindle an interest in plants and herbs; mixing a potion that works wonders on tired fellwandery feet and, who knows, maybe if I fill a sketchbook with my hopes and dreams they might come true someday (better practise drawing pretty houses with vegetable gardens and swimming ponds…and some kind of representation of world peace of course.) Meanwhile I continue to dawdle on my walks, saying the names out loud – Tormentil, Bog Asphodel, Silverweed and Usnea; and tonight, purple-ing my fingers with surprise bilberries up by the reservoir; where I wasn’t brave enough to swim alone. It was the first time I’d walked alone for a while (feeling fat and sluggish after being left in charge of my poor self control and one of Rupert’s coffee cakes while he camps out on soaking wet islands, inspiring groups of NCS students) and I thought, or resolved perhaps, to do it more often. To lose myself in thought and daydreams…

As well as all that wandering about with my head in the clouds or my nose in a bilberry bush, I’m getting organised for Art in the Pen Thirsk, which is in just two weeks time. I hope I can fit everything in the car and even more, I hope it all sells so I can buy the materials needed for Art in the Pen Skipton the following month, as well as some more exhibitions I’m sending work to. It’s been a bit of a flurry of activity the last few weeks with some very happy days in Sam Read Booksellers preventing me from becoming a total hermit and work delivered to three lovely galleries for summer exhibitions ( The Witham, Byard Art and Obsidian Art)

As usual I’ve left this writing until late and all the stories wanted to tell you will have to wait because none of us has the attention span we once did and I need to soak my midge bitten body in some cool water before bed and book time. Remind me to tell you about the evil grey squirrel who scampered below the lazy cat, snoozing on a bench and absolutely didn’t give a damn about the danger ( the squirrel warden has been notified) ; or how I let myself down in Loughrigg  by wallowing in the waterlilies when my prescription goggles steamed up.

Reading: Letters From Klara by Tove Jansson and “Waterlog” Roger Deakin Listening To: White Horses by Jakie Lee (this has been on the radio lately as the theme to Eddie Izzard’s autobiography and I remember loving the series when I was small- which makes me almost as old as these hills)

“it’s in the trees…..it’s coming!…..”

It is  early November and I’ve already been snowed in once; snow in October is a strange thing, with trees still in leaf and flowers in the garden.Snow on roses is a beautiful thing, but not for the roses.The blanket of white didn’t last long though and it made me determined to see some Autumn colour before it was too late. I’ve always loved the trees at Thorpe Perrow Arboretum and it was fun to shuffle about in the leaves, plan how to free the owls, decide that I would like a reindeer and say hello to remembered statues and blazing maples.

Its a good job I like trees because two days later I was at the strangest party I’ve ever been to (not counting the Mutoid Waste Company‘s New Year Warehouse party in 1986…when I was 6 obviously!!). The Motor House had been transformed into an eerie woodland with birds nests,real trees and a floor of dried leaves, which I am still finding in my hair.All very bohemian and fabulous.

Back on Witchmountain  I am contemplating the end of my bohemian lifestyle and the quiet solitude of my stove-side existence, as I enter a new and much delayed,phase of my life. Yes, I have been offered a full time, payed job that doesn’t include serving tea or pulling pints.

I’m excited and apprehensive but I start next week at the Joe Cornish Gallery …wish me luck!

I’m not giving up on my own work though; I’m hoping that I will feel less desperate to make money from it and therefore more likely to start selling a few things. The past four years have taught me more than I ever learnt at college and most of the lessons were very hard. I know hardly anyone who can live by their artwork alone and even as a freelance designer with an agent the amount of work needed to maintain a reasonable level of sales was almost impossible. I do feel strongly that we left college unprepared and with unrealistic expectations.

Tomorrow night I’ll be in Osmotherley with all my wares, including this new purse and some new cards which I’ll also be listing on Etsy soon. If you live nearby the Christmas Fair is in the village hall, Osmotherley from 7.30pm.

Just time for me to say, Congratulations Mr Obama ( because obviously he always reads this blog). Until next time x