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  • Writer's pictureCharlie

Getting Lost

Billie and I are just back from our walk this morning and I want to put down my thoughts before they float off with the pollen.

We walked unfamiliar paths today. I was struck by how dark the woods have got in just a week, the canopies have filled out and are spilling shade everywhere, changing the surroundings. Even the Arboretum felt more enclosed as the trees from the woods encroach on the path and the floor is covered with lush growth.

It felt good to walk without knowing the paths, to follow Billie's nose and the sunlight, uneven paths and quiet glades.

As well as taking in the surroundings this morning, I also thought about this blog, how my writing is going and what my process means to me, I also had a little giggle as I wondered if any of the writers of the songs I heard last night on Eurovision have similar processes :).

Speaking of process - I know I'm still behind on the year, but I have written February! There is music with words, I just have to put them into some audio format as I've experimented with sound on this one and I want to workshop it with a cellist and a real piano if possible at some point, not my very lovely, but stringless, stage piano.

A little nod today to Robert Macfarlane of 'The Lost Words' for a word I heard yesterday and was struck by in the woods today. I love his word of the day twitter posts.

I'm aware what I write here isn't poetry, I'm not a poet and I don't want to be. These are words, filtering experiences to become song. I'm currently finding this element of the blog as important to that process as the words I use on the forest floor. Filtering, editing, thinking...

Lush green canopies give shade.

Bluebells wane

A cool wind blows pollen

Their smells drift, land on noses and tickle.

Everything lies darker now as leaves have moved in.

Trees laden with branches barely letting sunlight through.

Dapples are gone.

Maeinschein has all but shone.

By new paths today we walk.

Toward the sound of a babbling stream.

Bubbling and churning, filled with debris.

New sounds and smells

A new vista too.

Upwards and upwards across the valley.

A tree shakes it’s burden of fresh raindrops,

Unexpected, cool and welcome here after endeavour

Are we in Barnsley now? We shout through shade.

No! reply trees as Billie bounces down bike trails

With adventure in their curves

Swooping down the landscape and over roots, eroding, changing, evolving.

A viaduct over a stream in a valley in woodland near Newmillerdam. There is graffiti inside the viaduct surrounded by trees and debris
The viaduct through woodland at Newmillerdam

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