Oh yes! It’s February! I learnt with joy this week that by the end of the month (in Brighton), we will have an extra hour and a half of daylight!
So, yes we are still strictly in winter (yes I know I was writing all about festivals celebrating the start of spring on Wednesday!) but the light at the end of the tunnel is growing and the natural world is responding. We are at that crossing point, where there is still much of the present left, but the future is within touching distance.
Noticing
The natural world is rarely silent for more than a few seconds. At this point in the year, the spring concert is starting to tune up. While birds such as the robin sing all through the year, it is the start of the spring breeding season that is the conductor of nature’s main concert.
And so, on a grey day, it was my eyes that had been searching for signs of spring, desperately scanning for flowers. But then, a much sweeter, louder sign announced itself. “Oh hello, what are you?” I said scrabbling with my phone to zoom in on the soloist. The song grew in strength and melody and my bird brain started whirring. Part of the reason for my puzzling was that I have rarely seen what I thought it might be, let alone this clearly, only heard. Blackbird size- ish, mottled browns, speckled chest… “I think you’re a song thrush, even if you do occasionally forget to repeat yourself” to which D replied “What? What’s a song thrush? My friends call me Fred” It took me a moment to realise he was speaking as the bird! And with that, before we could get a decent photo or attempt a birdsong id app, he was off, maybe he didn’t approve of either name! So yes, I’m fairly certain I’ve seen and heard my first song thrush of the year. I spent many morning cups of tea during the first lockdown listening to a song thrush which cemented their habit of repeating phrases in my mind.
While that encounter required a drive and a walk, this week’s most joyful moment was only metres from my house. After a day when I’d barely left my bed, a walk around the block lifted my spirits more than anything else that day. I’d spotted flutterings in some front garden trees so moved in for a closer look, and listen. First, just rustles in the bushes, then some cheeps and finally a small bundle of confident feathers bounced onto the bare branches of a buddleia. Bird brain time again. This one was only a metre away and seemingly not too bothered by me however it did not want to stay still. Wren? Hmm, right size, wrong head… A distant memory of rescuing a tiny bundle of feathers from a holiday cottage popped up, ah ha! Goldcrest! Yes! However, I only managed a few glimpses and a poor photo of the identifying mohican before it danced off across the road. A short conversation, but with lasting effect. (I’m not going to subject you to any more of my poor phone camera photos of birds, but it is sometimes useful for identification later on)
It wasn’t all just about the birds this week. In the woods beyond the song thrush concert, my slowing and noticing skills came into their own. This was a wild wood, only a sliver tucked in a dip on the downs, but full of twisted trunks and fallen dead wood. This means tiny wonders. First, the viridian green lichen and mosses caught my eye, but soon, a tiny (I’m talking millimetres here) ice cream cone came into focus amongst the feathery fronds. It was an almost perfect purply spiral.
This time it was my excited butterfly brain that sprung into action, was it a pupa? Had I actually found an overwintering butterfly or moth? Another tree, more moss, more strange cones. Thankfully being seemingly stuck to the tree, these were much better photography models. By the time we stopped for a rest, I’d found at least five trees hosting these tiny occupants. It was at this point that my excitement deflated. The excellent iNaturalist identification app (free, easy to use, highly recommend) thought they were door snails. Now, I know I shouldn’t but I’m really not a fan of snails, I am also a gardener and where I live, snails eat everything I even think of planting in my garden. But I do absolutely love butterflies, in fact, they were the gateway species that hooked me into nature. So learning these were not going to turn into beautiful winged fairies, but sit munching things was not good news. However, to give them credit, these weren’t the common garden variety, they were purple, and had a cool shell so actually, I have allocated some admiration for them. I’ve certainly not noticed them tucked into any other trees before so a bonus tick there and a nudge for us all to look more closely.
Creating
Writing last week’s letter about not creating unlocked something! Half an hour after publishing it I was finally sitting at my table, inks out, paintbrushes in hand and putting quite a bit of paint on quite a bit of paper. I played in my sketchbook, added to pieces I’d previously discarded and finally started on the background of a large tree silhouette. The realisation that the colour palette might be part of the problem freed me to break out the pinks and yellows, emulating the wonderful sunsets we’ve had recently. The ideas I’d had while browsing Pinterest bubbled up, creating shadow trees, abstract splatters and enjoying the wonderful textures that diluted ink leaves when it dries.
Unfortunately, I’ve not had the energy to do much since, but those pieces are still sitting there, gently reminding me every day that I can do this and I am edging closer to the idea in my head.
I had wanted to get back to the cemetery for some green sketching, but unfortunately, it’s been a few steps too far. It feels like all the ideas and energy I had after doing the Green Sketching training last year are ebbing away as this flare-up continues. However, on Friday I was scooped up by my friend and taken to our regular gathering on the beach. If I can’t get into the sea, then I thought I’d draw the treasures it holds. At the moment, I find it really hard to focus in busy social situations, just too many voices for my brain to filter. But just focusing on the paper gives my brain a rest in some way and it means I have a permanent record of being there for when my brain doesn’t file these things properly. Might you start carrying a little notebook and pencil in your bag to doodle in?
Reading
After publishing my piece on Imbolc I came across a few other wonderful newsletters with the same focus. In particular, I want to mention Helen Forester’s
I've listened to her podcast for a while, she interviews an inspiring selection of writers, creatives and nature lovers, so I'm really glad she's now also using substack to put out her own writing. Her use of language is so beautiful and evocative. As well as her own writing, she is a teacher and so adds prompts and suggestions to nudge your own practice. One day I will do her in-person course here in Brighton as I'm sure it will be very valuable for developing my own writing.She also reminded me of Suzanne Simard’s book Finding the Mother Tree which I’ve had on my TBR list for ages after listening to a few podcasts with her. Suzanne has had an amazing career amongst and with the trees, as a researcher she was the first to realise the amazing connections trees have with each other, coining the term the wood wide web. I’ve just downloaded it so I’ll report back soon.
So, that’s my nature noticing and creating for the week. I hope you’ve found some signs of spring. I encourage you to listen out for the birds and see if you can spot any tiny wonders of your own.
But my name IS Fred!