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, and week 02 here. For daily update, follow me on Instagram or Twitter.
I moved to Bristol in winter and at the time, the part of my commute photographed above was barren. It was a tangle of branches, the browns and greys of the barks mixing with the fences and buildings around. I could see robins dart about or stay still on a tree. And I wondered… How would all this look in Summer? It is like a tunnel of leaves, green overpowering the grey of the tarmac and engulfing the fences around. The buildings are lost to me making me forget I’m in a city. Birds darts in between trees but I only see them in flight, their homes and feeding station hidden by the foliage.
When I’m at work there isn’t much time for nature. I have to get up, go to work, come back home, do the usual chores, go to bed, start again. But there is always my commute and lunch time. I may only have half an hour, but even in the centre of Bristol it’s easy to find a spot of grass within a two minutes walk. I have found one and it has become my lunch time spot. I lay down on it, eat my sandwich/soup/salad, and close my eyes. Or I pick up a book and read, because books are the best lunch dates.
A day off brought me and my partner to Oxford. We meandered in the city centre for hours, not quite able to get lost in such a confined environment, but always escaping the bigger streets for narrow ones. Spires rose, yellow stones encased the colleges away from commoners, and all around nature made its home in the cracks of the architecture. As the heat of the day was not relenting, we retreated to the Thames and walked along the water until we found a quiet spot to dip our feet in and watch the natural world and humans go by for a while.
It was time to head back home but not via A roads and the motorway. Instead, we drove into the Cotswolds, stopping at Burford for a long walk in the countryside. There were quiet tarmac lanes but also plenty of meadows and fields where I was free to take off my shoes and let the grass cushion my steps. I wish I could walk barefoot more often. We found a river and I took a swim before we had lunch by the water, the ducks always hoping for some of our food. We drove away but stopped again at the sight of another river. The water was very shallow but that didn’t stopped me. I jumped right in and walked in it for a while, the coolness of its water a blessing on such a hot day.
Back to work, my everyday routine was broken by small birds on the cycle path by the Avon New Cut. I stopped my longboard and watch them attempt running away from commuters. I wondered what they were but work soon took over my mind and I dismissed the question. But on my commute back home, the little birds were still there, hoping about. I stopped and watched them for a while longer than I had in the morning. And it hit me. Those little baby birds are baby seagulls. And in that instant I realised I’d never seen one in my life, or had never paid enough attention to notice. Eventually I got back on the board, happy beyond belief at having seen and recognised those creatures we too often think as mean and ugly.
Darkness was beginning to fall upon the city when I made my way home. I had spent the day at work and the evening at the Bristol Bike Project. I had seen nature on my commute but hadn’t paid more attention to it than usual. So on my way back, I slowed down and stopped by the river for a while. All I could hear was the distant hum of traffic and the slow rumble of trains. And there, above a bridge, gulls had congregated, all still and silent, a sight I could have easily missed had I not stopped to take in the evening atmosphere.
The summer solstice has always been cause for celebration. When I was a child in France, musicians would take to the street and play through the day and night. If it was a school day, I was left free to wander the streets, following the notes that attracted my ears. As I grew older, Music Day became a small pause in the midst of exams, a relief that it would soon all be over and summer would finally begin. And then I moved to the UK, a place where there is no Music Day, not like in France anyway. So I took to spending time outside, immersing myself in nature. At first, it was simply long walks in London, making the most of the long day. Gradually, I began to escape the city, exploring the countryside and sleeping outside. And ever since it has become a tradition. On the summer solstice, I pack my bag and go on a microadventure. This time, I pedalled away from my front door and into Somerset (but more on that later).
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