Make room for nature!
This is a cry from The Wildlife Trusts, urging us to remember nature and pay attention to it during our everyday life. Nature isn’t something to be enjoyed during our time off and lose sight of when we fall back into our daily routine. It is a home that needs to be nurtured and taken care of constantly. But this, is too easy to forget.
So this month, I, and hundreds of people across the British isles have pledged to be a little more wild. Here is what I chose to do during the second week. Catch up with week 01 here, week 02 here, and week 03 here. For daily update on what I’m up to and spotting around me, follow me on Instagram or Twitter.
The day before I had pedalled away from home with no destination in mind. It didn’t matter that I would have no bed for the night, I was sure to be able to find a spot of grass somewhere in Somerset to lay down in. And sure enough I did, ending and beginning days in my favourite way: outside. Breakfast over, I cycled on, home a vague destination to reach before sundown. I found small roads and dirt roads, a long beach and plenty of head wind, long grass and insects against my bare legs, and birds happily flying and singing in this season of plenty.
I was cycling once more but this time to commute along the Avon New Cut. As I’ve written before everything is green along its bank, a monochrome world only broken by the brown flow of the river. So when this spot of purple appeared, I immediately pulled the brakes to inspect what they were. My botanical knowledge being quite poor, I turned to the Internet and was told those are common mallow (malva sylvestris). I’m okay with identifying trees, but get completely lost when flowers and other plants are involved. I want to be able to name the world around me, know it and make it mine, but I’m so often frustrated by the difficulty of browsing through endless Google pictures. Do you have resources you find particularly helpful?
I had a date with the library before I had to rush to the post office and then work. It was all a bit of a blur until the yellow of this label caught my eye. ‘Be happy, and smile‘, it said. So I did. I raised my eyes, looked at the trees and the breeze swinging their leaves left and right. And I smiled. And I was happy, my perception that little more acute again.
Since returning from my mini cycle tour in Somerset, everything had been frantic. I found myself having to cram so much outside of work, I was running like a headless chicken most of the time, only stopping for sleep. So that evening, I decided to drop my plans of video and sound editing and sat in the garden with a cup of tea. The sun had set but there was still some light. I listened to the children next door playing quietly, the birds singing the last of their songs, and the traffic dying down on the road nearby. And gradually, the stillness that had escaped me for the past few days began to return.
The clouds had settled in, turning the world grey once more. But it’s near impossible to find a monochrome dullness in summer. Instead there were yellows and purples glowing bright in the grass lay-bys, and pinks and blues of flowers in the cracks of the pavement and buildings. I was reminded that it’s not the blue skies that make summer.
Work over, my partner picked me up and we headed to mid-Wales. We drove out of Bristol without a problem, A roads soon replaced by B roads and the familiar sights of Gloucestershire by the Shropsire Hills. Mounds of earth rose and we slowed often to watch them undulate in the landscape. We crossed the border between England and Wales several times, a squiggly lines that doesn’t care for roads. But soon the signs were in Welsh, and we swapped B roads for small lanes, finding our way to the yurt we had booked. We lit the fire, settled in, and watched the world grow dark with a glass of wine in hand.
The forecast was for rain and clouds all day. And it was correct, mostly. We didn’t see the sun that day and we got damp but it didn’t stop us enjoying a walk in the countryside. I had hoped for right of ways through fields and meadows but we were advised against it if we didn’t fancy sinking into mud and muck. We didn’t and took to the lanes instead. Tarmac under our feet didn’t mean nature wasn’t all around. Sheep grazed and called one another, snails make their slow way to where they wanted, and the vegetation glistened under the rain drops. Four hours went before we reached the yurt again.
The day began with an outdoors breakfast before we had to pack our stuff and head away from the yurts. Eager to see more of the Shrophire hills, we drove in their direction, selecting a different route than the one we came through. We slowed often, stopping the car for a good look at the views and a walk in a forest. I breathed in the smell of wet rotting earth and for a moment all was still and quiet in me.
30 days have passed and it ends as it began, in my garden. I’m no longer suffering from the flu, the spittle bugs have gone, and the flowers have transformed. And I’m a little different too. I’ve gained new knowledge, I’ve tried new things, and I’m a little richer in life.