Spring in the Scottish Borders – The Artist in Studio Hundy

Candlemas

Jewels of light

Candlemas on 2nd February occurs between the mid-winter solstice and the spring equinox. Imbolc in the celtic calender. North East on the medicine wheel it is the “gate of birth”; between Earth and Air and between love for others and spiritual love. As with all these “in-between” gateways, within the cycle of the year, it holds a sense of great mystery.

Looking to nature we see the flowering of snowdrops at this time of year. Like jewels of light covering the darkened ground, they bring a sense of hope for the year to come; an uplifting contrast to the often dreary, grey days we frequently experience throughout January.

I am enjoying reading a beautiful book I chanced upon late last year: Nature’s Calendar The British Year in 72 Seasons.

Inspired by a traditional Japanese calendar which divides the year into segments of four to five days, this book guides you through a year of 72 seasons as they manifest in the British Isles.
From Sleeve notes

In a facinating entry for the micro-season 15th-19th January one of the authors, Rebecca Warren, links the emerging snowdrop to the festival of Candlemas. In Italian the plant is named fiore della purificazione (flower of purification) and in French it is sometimes know as violettes de la Chandeleur (Candlemas violets).

I thoroughly recommend this wonderful book. It can be picked up every 4-5 days for a topical, often thought provoking essay by one of the 4 authors, capturing some aspect of the natural phenomenon we can experience through observation in our immediate surroundings.

Although we may well not have seen the last of the snow this winter, the emerging snowdrops aways remind me of this lovely poem I discovered many years ago:

Last Snow

Although the snow still lingers
Heaped on the ivy's blunt webbed fingers
And painting tree-trunks on one side,
Here in this sunlit ride
The fresh unchristened things appear,
Leaf, spathe and stem,
With crumbs of earth clinging to them
To show the way they came,
But no flower yet to tell their name,
And one green spear
Stabbing a dead leaf from below
Kills winter at a blow.

Andrew Young 
_{born Elgin 1885}

Forthcoming workshop series

In the Scottish Borders – “Gathering the Light”

As part of my Art as a Mindful Process, these 4 workshops will explore, through colour moods, the quality and movement of the light, as day passes to night and re-emerges at dawn.

We will be using a wet-on-wet watercolour technique as a way of experiencing the changing light.

These workshops are about slowing down, taking time, becoming aware – a kind of “listening” with the eyes. No previous artistic experience is needed as I will guide participants, creating familiarity and confidence with the art materials and process.

Local to Hawick in the Scottish Borders? …. and interested, go to: Live Borders Creative Spaces to book a place.

Sounds of May

Birdsong at dawn – choral gladness

For a few weeks in early May, drifting in and out of sleep during the wee small hours, I had been listening to the sound of birdsong in the comfort of my warm bed. I decided (a little reluctantly) to rise very early and record the dawn chorus in all its full magnitude. Setting my alarm for 3.30am I emerged sleepily from my bed……but was disappointed to find that the showers of April were downpours in May:

May downpour

A second try a few days later was thwarted by the wind:

A very windy dawn

On my third early morning I was in luck. The weather was perfectly still and dry.

I recorded a full 20 minutes with only the occassional interuptions by distant cars or a plane flying overhead. I have condensed this into a 5 minute clip, with minimal editing – just extracting key phases of the chorus and crossfading the clips.

Listen and enjoy without the need to be out of bed at dawn!

Dawn chorus at Girrick

The daylight hours of May have also seen a lot of bird activity in the garden, including an intriguing little nest high up in the Birch tree. I think it is a Chaffinch, but hard to tell from below.

A Spotted flycatcher has been investigating the birdbox, but doesn’t seem to have taken up residence as yet …….

Spotted Fly catcher bringing moss into bird box

… and various birds have been bathing in the pond or the shallow birdbath on the decking.

Blue tit splashing around in the bird bath – watercolour sketch

There were also a few rare moments of dramatic lighting this month.

Sounds of April

Nature emerges from its winter quietness

April seems to be the month that nature really begins to emerge from the “quietness” of its winter shell. Plant life responds with new life and the budding process abounds. Bees visit early blossoms and birds sing out their varied songs.

Last year in early April, at the start of lockdown, I began the practice of sketching one emerging bud in the garden each day.

Sketches of emerging buds - Pencil with watercolour wash

This year I have been busy listening to the range of sounds that fill the air. Some, that really represent this month, have proved difficult to capture. I didn’t have my recording equipment the day I sat quietly by the fence and heard the sound of cows munching on fresh grass, having returned to the fields with their new calves. Next time I went out with my recorder, the cows were far away in the valley!

I did, however, create a small soundscape, in an attempt to encapsulate some of the other sounds that typify April. Listening on headphones will give you the full effect, hopefully immersing you in the sense of Spring.

Soundscape of Spring

Apple Tree buds opening – pencil with watercolour wash

Welcome arrivals

Flight is our life

The new beginnings associated with Easter are always accompanied in April/May by a sense of anticipation in nature; awaiting the sighting of the first House Martins or Swallows. I say sighting, but sometimes it is the awareness of their excitable “chatter”. It never fails to bring a feeling of jubilance, in the knowledge that these migrants have returned to build or re-build their homes for the summer.

It is a profound feeling that resonates deeply. This year it was on Good Friday that I was aware the blue sky had received those welcome dark shadows, flying rapidly in apparent purposeful endeavour. The depth of this event is, for me, beautifully encapsulated in the poem by Mary Webb published in 1928.

Swallows

The swallows pass in restless companies.
Against the pink-flowered may, one shining breast
Throbs momentary music – then, possessed
With motion, sweeps on some new enterprise.
Unquiet in heart, I hear their eager cries
And see them dart to their nests beneath the eaves;
Within my spirit is a voice that grieves,
Reminding me of empty autumn skies.
Nor can we rest in Nature’s dear delight:
June droops to winter, and the sun droops west.
Flight is our life. We build our crumbling nest
Beneath the dark eaves of the infinite,
We sing our song in beauty’s fading tree,
And flash forth, migrant, into mystery.

by Mary Webb

Reference: Webb, M. (1930) The collected works of Mary Webb. Poems and The Spring of Joy. London: Jonathon Cape, 1928.

Veil painting - swallows (2) — Veil painting watercolour 2018

Buds will blow

Joy of new beginnings

Birdsong in spring

Three and a half weeks on from the Spring Equinox, the clocks have changed and the light is gradually increasing. Signs of new life are abundant and buds in all shapes and forms are beginning to “blow”. An old English word:

blow³/bləυ/v. & n. archaic. v.intr. burst into or be in flower. n. blossoming, bloom (in full blow). [OE blõwan f. Gmc]

Whilst not often found today, this word – for me – encapsulates nature at this time of year (Photo-gallery: Buds in Spring).

I came across its use in a song at our regular Thursday a capella singing group:

You have to believe that buds will blow,
Believe in grass in days of snow,
That’s the reason a bird can sing,
On its darkest day it believes in spring

ROWAN UNFURLING 3 — ROWAN UNFURLING -charcoal

As spring unfolds and buds burst into bloom, bird song also brings the joy of new beginnings.

A sound recording I made in our local valley in 2017 brings something of that joyous spring calling to life.

With the gentle sound of the Eden water flowing in the background, the light was slowly fading and the various songs being sung resonated, as if in preparation for another new day.

Spring arrived and Winter returned

Our seasons are fickle

After Candlemas the first two weeks of February saw the skies clear, the sun bring warmth and the crocuses bloom.

Primroses, that had started to flower even in January, shone brightly in their profusion.

The icy scenes we’d seen on the Eden water on 1^st and 2^nd of February (Photo-gallery: Ice on Eden water) melted away in a moment and it seemed the reluctant winter had been pushed away – Spring had arrived. Even the bumble bees agreed!

Not the case; early March has seen the return of cold, windy and wintery weather. Not like 2018, with heavy falls of snow and drifts 6ft deep in places, but the temperatures have dropped dramatically and today light wet snow is falling from a grey sky.

Our seasons are fickle these days and keep us guessing what may arrive next.