This too shall pass

First, apologies if you've been frantically trying to hear my short story, 'The Clown' broadcast on Soundart Radio. It took a little while to be available online, but you can hear it now :o).

In other writerly news, I have failed (by quitting NaNoWriMo early) to write 50k words of my novel in a month, which seemed such a modest aim, and as a result I've collapsed into a despondent mood about all my creative endeavours. I must be feeling more positive than last night or I wouldn't even be writing this. I can blame illness (mine and others), or visitors taking up work time, but really it was just an awful slog - too much like school and not enough like skipping after the words as they dart ahead of me. Maybe another year, or maybe it's not for me.

And I certainly don't want to be complaining about our visitors. They came bringing music and song,

never minded when Pickle joined in (she's lately added the kazoo to her repertoire - one saved from our wedding) or the endless toddler impedimenta (they had to sleep on that sofabed, under the dangling elephants and boinging beefly),

 and introduced us (and our neighbour who came to share his latest toy and discover the wonders of Becherovka) to apple and chocolate pancakes.

As if music and pancakes weren't enough to cheer me up, here's a group of heroes doing a ten-day-and-night chant. This is the lovely Fiona explaining the point of such a thing, or you can tune in to see them live - a kind of voyeuristic spirituality which feels ridiculous at first, but quickly becomes mesmerising..

And speaking of heroes, please bear with me while I share another little film of those good people at Chagfood:

So, an odd day. I haven't decided if I'm enjoying it yet. I'll leave you with this November strawberry from our garden, which I also have mixed feelings about:

and, finally, this poem, which did make me better, in at least one way.

Big Lips: The Clown and poor Pickle

My story's being broadcast on the radio tonight! I haven't been so famous since I was on Songs of Praise with my school choir. (Did I just type that out loud?) It's Soundart Radio, only available locally, (okay, not even as famous as my few minutes intoning Laudate Dominum in an excruciating haircut, blouse and blazer combo), at 7:30 tonight (It's Tuesday), but everyone can access it online via this link. It's called 'The Clown' and I remember thinking it was funny in parts when I submitted it eons ago. I will be making myself listen, even though it might be like hearing my own voice on an answering machine. I had the option of reading it myself, but I'd rather have my tongue pulled out my eye, so someone more competent will be doing that. And I should mention that it has the great quality of being short.

I'm almost 9,500 words behind my NaNo word count target due to - told you there would be excuses at some point - visitors, illness (mine and the Ent's) and Pickle smashing her face on the side of our bed this morning (she's over it; I'm nowhere near). She's got her first fat lip and she's still dribbling blood, but our saviour arnica has reduced the forehead marble to half a pea and her cheese-and-raisin obsession is unharmed, so really she's fine.

I've raved about the wonders of Chagfood here before. The Observer recently ran an article about Ed, Samson and co, which I heartily recomend: Inspired by the Levellers (not the band) Ed Hamer's radical vision of farming involves a commitment to making the land work for the people. And it helps to have a big horse
Do have a read if you've got a minute - it's so refreshing to hear positive news about people acting from conviction, intelligence and not a little courage, and I'd really appreciate it if you listened to my story and let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Harvesting

Autumn's toes are getting chilly now. The fine ladies of this town are sacrificing hair for hat. The mornings are beautiful when at last they open their eyes to us.

And the colours bring joy enough to see us through to the other side.

In our school playground, apples patiently queue in an admirably English manner. Some have arrived in such number they burst from every door of a car; others are nestled in a basket with just a few friends.

All are destined to be pressed. Here Yuli Somme, felter extraordinaire and creator of the most beautiful natural woolen shrouds, blithely ignores the instructions written on the funnel - with no unfortunate consequences.

The resultant mush is packed in a stack of gridded tins lined with muslin,

each carefully wrapped,







































then squeezed by young and old working the tightening wheel. The nectar is carefully poured into bottles 

and the leftovers taken away by the firstcomer for excellent composting.

This is our freezer. More is in our fridge. More still is in our systems already, keeping the doctor away, we hope.

Fueled by this seasonal sugar bounty, we have been getting creative. Pickle spent ages using the stick end of the brush to make the most beautiful design of dots and dashes. Them she stuck the brush in the black and covered it all up. I make art because I love the process, but it is awesome to watch Pickle do it with not a scrap of regard for the finished result (or the laundry).

I followed a recipe (almost unheard of) and made perfect playdough. We stuck our fingers deep into it, giggling a bit nervously when we couldn't see them any more. We made rings. We made moons and sausages and a little teacup. Then we squidged it all back into a lump, which was the most fun part.

Other harvests have come our way. Perfect horse mushrooms from fields around an organic farm

and a bumper haul from Chagfood: pumpkins galore plus our regular veg box, and an evening of feasting, fire and Baba Yaga storytelling from Coyopa with musical accompaniment from Rima Staines (who, it turns out, can make an accordion snore!). The children claimed they weren't scared. I can only say they must be fools.

All that has got us in the mood for Hallowe'en tonight. Many years I've celebrated Samhain in a (fairly) serious and sacred way. But this year I'm creating a new ceremony. I'm taking my favourite little witch (seen here flying her broomstick backwards - maybe it's a stunt broom) trick-or-treating.

And if any children come to our door, this is what awaits them:

Happy Hallowe'en and Samhain blessings on you all. Let's make it through!

Exhibition, duck herding, puppets, etc.

Ta-dah! At last, the exhibition's hung. All I have to worry about now is the increased risk of people seeing my work. Yikes. If you're in Devon, it's in The Courtyard Cafe, Chagford all September. And do take a look at some of the great work being created in Devon Open Studios.

2011 Collection

We spent a day at Lustleigh Village Show. Many are the wonders to behold there, but the duck herding is possibly the funniest.

Phenomenal birds of prey were on display. I had a quick stroke of this one, but flinched away when he looked (hungrily, I thought) down at my fingers.

And while we're on birds of prey, I strongly recommend you visit Coyopa and read an extract of 'The Falcon's Child'.

I was pleased to spot this woman knitting as she walked. She's a professional weaver and actually only looked down at her hands in shyness when I was taking her photo.

We watched a hay rick being built in the traditional way, with help from Ed and Samson (below) from Chagfood.

The kids had plenty of traditional entertainment too. This Punch and Judy show gathered a huge crowd. You can probably see from the photo how dark the story is, but the kids (young and old) were having a grand time yelling warnings and encouragement to the characters. I'd like to know more about the origins of this tale of a man, his wife, a crocodile and some sausages.

Hot sheep waited, nose-to-tail in a truck until...

..their coats were whipped off in the sheep shearing speed trials. If a shearer nicks the skin of a sheep, his time is disallowed. There's genuine competition, especially between the old hands and the young upstarts, although everyone acknowledges not enough people carry this skill now, so outside the trials there's huge encouragement to the men (exclusively, it seems) who want to learn.

Pickle went on a merry-go-round for the first time. She had so much fun and couldn't stop grinning afterwards.

Last night we were at Yuli Somme's Bellacouche preview. In typical Dartmoor style, apart from the usual dogs and kids, a friend had brought a pony.

And on the way home the sky was shining fire. I'd felt odd all day. Maybe it's autumn slinking into my bones, maybe it was the magical company the night before, or the early morning stroll through the sculptures in the Mythic Garden. But something is shifting in me; taking a new shape and creeping up, up to speak with a new voice. We never know who we'll be tomorrow. All I know is to face into the strongest wind and keep walking.

All I know, is that when the Wild God visits, I will give him the best I have, and listen hard.

Self portrait #2, Chagfood, Stones, and Love

At last a new artwork to share with you. Bigger and, as ever, a new approach. My new favourite. I didn't set out to do a self portrait, but as it grew I was telling stories of myself with it, empathising with the different parts and how they met.Right from the start, when I had just drawn the moon, hearts and the first leaves, I regretted the hearts. Too predictable, too naive, too obvious. But that's me. I am frequently not the impressive or stylish or confident one. But I am true and I am loving. Many times I have regretted putting my heart out in the world, but often, as with this piece, when I can see the bigger picture I am so glad I dared and I resolve to go on daring. Because why else?

Self portrait #2

Brush pen on canvas board

10" x 12"

And so to love of an edible kind. We've started getting a veg box from Chagfood and every week it's such a delight to unpack it. The colours, textures, smells, are so good. When we go to the pick-up point, Pickle leans out of her buggy, gesturing for treats. So the produce in the following photos is a few tomatoes and some mange tout short of the full box. (Like me, some days.) It's not a normal veg box scheme. Members buy a share in the produce - a much more stable way for small, organic growers to operate. If you want to know more, have a look at this.

Chagfood Bounty (small box)

Romanesco: Architectural masterpiece

Two-toned turnips

Flat-leaf parsley, red and green basil

Sweet and juicy cherry tomatoes 

Perfect, crunchy carrots just waiting for houmous

Big bowl of salad; Pickle loves eating the flowers

And a bonus bunch of flowers for the table

Naked under the sun

Naked under the sun,
my girl takes me by the hand,
walks me down the lane.
Friends stop to admire her;
she to study them.
A car crawls towards us
and we press back into hedge.
One, four, many wasps.
My friend shouts and darts away.
Stung.
Shouts again.
Now they are pouring out.
I lift my skirt to cover my child
and walk steadily away.
She, delighted,
buzzes in my arms.


Holiday

Lying
hot, hot
on the lawn,
slowly filling canvas,
I am grateful the internet
has taken a holiday.


Wool wash

So concerned
at my family's absence,
I did a wool wash.


Canvas children

I have called more
canvas children in,
to shape and nurture,
set boundaries for
and learn from,
but mostly to watch
as they grow.

And finally, love given liberty. This brought a tear to my eye:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-14271370