Nature’s Cure

Join me for a walk through a forest of inches; a topography in miniature

The first flush of Spring lies at my feet; the mosses in the wood are growing and greening. I’m slowly learning their names and noticing their variety. A forest of inches, hills and dales, a topography in miniature.

Hello and welcome to this week’s letter. Today the wind is again searching the valley as if for something lost or left behind. It visits frequently and often brings rain, as if to wash this place clean. Today it is dry and warm, yet Spring still has an edge of impermanence.

This week I’d like to invite you to share a walk; you have the best morning of the week so far and it’s too good to miss.

In the wood the breeze probes the treetops; small birds sing; three, four - no five - roe deer bounce away over the heather. If they had stayed still, you wouldn’t have seen them; it’s the movement that draws your eye and the flash of white rump.

For a while you lose the trail; some days the line is clearly visible and on others, a trick of the light. it seems to disappear. Every now and then the deer leave a deposit as if to mark your way. At the edge of the moss, sunlight falls on wet heath. The ground is softly quiet; twigs crackle every so often but otherwise it’s just you and your thoughts as you cross the old ditches and experience the boot sucking kiss of the mire. The Sphagnum moss and underlying peat have been churned by hooves; in previous winters the ground has been dry and often frozen, better able to withstand the traffic. Back onto slightly firmer ground among young pine, close packed sticks with bottle brush green tops, hypnotically swaying against blue sky.

In the middle of the wood are ragged grandmothers; what have these veteran Scots pine witnessed in their time here? Then it’s into birch and a world of fallen and dead wood, lichen and moss. A forest in miniature.

There is fresh soil at the entrance to the badgers’ set: softly wet, red, sandy silt.

Drop down and the trail again glistens but the moss and the lichen on the trees have dried. Each stem, branch, trunk is a rich habitat - look closely on the dead birch, follow the fissures of pink bark up the pine.

The ditches are old and shallowed but the sphagnum within is still damp, centred red amid green. It’s time to sigh: there’s nothing like a macro lens to hold your focus and slip you into a parallel universe. In the moment all else disappears; meet the water and the bond is sealed. How much time passes is lost in a mental detox; even the sounds of the wood disappear.

Interweave

Warp and weft of soft tissue

Binding threads

Emerge as if from reverie into sunlight and the plink plink of bird song, a distant rumble of plane, and the wind in the trees doing a pretty good imitation of the sound of the sea. Pick up the pace to return home, carrying memories of the morning and time spent becoming intimate with the wet places deep in the woods. Pine needles and bark muffle the sound of your feet as you reflect on the glittering sea of light that you briefly swam in.

Before bud break, the wood is already green, the moss satiated after a wet winter, spreading and engulfing, pulling down the next layer. The first growth of grass and sedge has begun. The season, despite the fickle weather, is turning and the sun is warm on your back.

---

This week I have begun to make miniature test books and consider how after ‘A New Topography’ to next partner the writing with the visual. My starting point is a sample of short poems and images drawn from my last two letters, and a desire to build layers.

To end this week’s letter I’d also like to share:

• If you’re looking for books on wildlife and conservation around the world I can recommend the nhbs bookstore. This was the source of my field guide to Bryophytes and an excellent little leaflet on sphagnum mosses in bogs.

Thank you for joining me and for reading this. I still have a few copies of my little book of writing and images available if you would like to buy one.

Until next week,

You’ll find more image rich writing in previous posts on FLOW’s home page. My photography and mixed media art live here on my website.

The reality of the wet flush that my photographs came from is - on the surface - a little more mundane but if you look closely and with curiosity at the small things, there is always beauty to be noticed.

All words and images copyright © Michela Griffith