It would be a shame to let the moments of summer fade into the memory of one’s smartphone. I looked back at these images with an appreciation for how nature has changed me this season, of how much she has given.
I have stood amongst falling magnolia petals, enjoyed dusky urban skies, walked with dear Auralab through a marshy Gower microclimate and watched a clematis bud open. I learnt that the trees outside my new home are Whitebeam. From exploring an orchard on an island to watching the light break in the highlands, I have visited the edges of places. A friend and I stopped the car to stand in silence with solstice mountains, and I told my secrets to the Ullapool dawn. Fingers found fragments of china and seaglass washed smooth by the tide, and lichens showed me their brightest shades.
On my return, the Tiny Huntress (AKA Tiger Girl or Maggie) came to share my little home. There has been much purring, many kitten cuddles and fair amounts of pain (also some bloodshed) from small vampiric fangs and growing claws.
Edible Words took me up Snowdonia mountains, and we swam in lakes amongst mines as I fell in love (with slate, and a cheeky bear-like man). Back in the Shire, there were walks amongst sandstone and pine before more expeditions to North Wales. The bear one and I wild camped, swam in turquoise pools and watched the sun rise up a mountain above Blaenau Ffestiniog. I couldn’t keep away from Wales, and stood with feet in wet grass at Tŷ Newydd where nature gave her inspiration via the beautiful surroundings and poet tutor Sophie Mckeand. There were poems written, sea swims and blackberries.
As the first hints of chilly weather beckoned, HH and I walked though a rainy welsh valley and fell in streams. The last bursts of heat saw birthday paddles in the River Lugg, and foraging began with elderberries, oyster mushrooms and plans to make pine needle tea. Heather-purple has arrived on reddening hills, as the season’s turnings tumble irreversibly towards next week’s autumn equinox.