A grieving Manchester mother shows the way

I wrote a post about alliums here yesterday and then deleted it, it suddenly felt too soon and weirdly inappropriate whilst all the horrors in Manchester were still sinking in. I tried to drag my mind to something simple and beautiful but it was too soon. I can't seem to order my thoughts and words around what has happened.

Atrocity on this scale is difficult to take in. It is bewildering to try to understand it, but to the actual families involved the trauma must be utterly unimaginable and life changing in the worst possible way. The thing that is going around in my mind is the outrage done to the parental instinct to protect - all we ever want to do is keep our children as safe and happy as possible. That those poor mums and dads were rendered helpless in keeping their children safe is everything I think parents dread the most. We know in our heads that there are no guarantees that our children will remain free from harm, but we do everything reasonable to keep them so, it is our most basic function and instinct. I have found that having older children, this protective urge has to segue towards a willingness to give them space and opportunity to stretch their wings, carve out their own independence and responsibility. It has been the hardest thing I have ever done. It causes me sleepless nights, anxious thoughts and the occasional splitting headache - but is my job and responsibility to keep letting go, I can't allow my fear to fail them this right of freedom. I have often filled the growing spaces between us with too much advice and words, unsure if my letting go is not enough or too much. I have had to grow up a bit with them, show some spine, take each day at a time and trust both my and their wisdom.

My parents were and are amazing at this job of parenthood, the keeping safe and the letting go, the offering of roots but the encouragement of growing wings. It was my pa's birthday recently and I wrote him this little poem about a real summer's day when I was about four years old when my dad scooped me onto his shoulders realising a friend's joke about monsters in a nearby creek had got out of hand. He took away my fears that long-ago day and his solid, steadfast love continues to strengthen me to this day. But he can't protect me from everything, all he can do is be there for me. And likewise, all of us for our children.

Pa, you lifted me high, so high that day,
When slimy critters lurked, they said, 
In salty creeks and under bridges.

You put me on your shoulders,
You scooped me up and out
Of stories I didn't understand
But feared.

Just like you did that summer's day,
Still now you raise me up,
Still now you march me home, aloft,
Back home to who I am, what I can be.

So, when such heinous acts of terrorism or calamity occur, it is heartbreaking to think of the impotent longing they must feel to scoop their loved ones back to safety. The callous outrage inflicted upon the natural desire to keep their children from harm could not be more offensive or obscene.

What can we can possibly offer them? Our absolute solidarity and witness to their pain, our kindest thoughts and most heartfelt prayers? Practical dedication to try and bring more compassion and love to the world? It doesn't seem enough right now does it, because it won't bring their children back? But, this morning I heard the courageous words of the mother of Olivia Campbell, (of one of the children who lost her life), and her one message was to stay strong, and above all to not let the evil beat us:

"As a family we are united and standing strong. I ask her friends, strangers, relatives, to do the same. Please stay together and please, don't let this beat us. Don't let my daughter be a victim."

So, that brave voice is my guide - be united, be strong and stand together, be defiant against evil, keep going. Just keep going. We have to keep the hope alive that love is stronger than hate. The people of Manchester have been a stunning, tangible example of that over the last couple of days.

manna {18} surprise encounter

Recently I have decided that, because my job is so sedentary, I need to make my daily walks and/or runs a bit longer, trying to aim for 7-10km a day. This means that I am that much more steeped in the outdoors and changing seasons, day by day.

And this time of year is so amazing! Clouds of white cow parsley now along every lane and hedgerow, hawthorn blossom and birdsong, new green growth and nonchalant groups of nodding cowslips in ditches and under trees. Always for me, the return of swallows, swifts and housemartins is a beautiful thing - that dogged, hopeful return across thousands of miles to our fields and treetops. A few years ago, I was suddenly startled by a low swooping swift flying past my face before arcing back skyward. I wrote this poem about it that evening because I couldn't get out of my mind that the beating energy of this tiny life had intersected, nearly collided, with mine. Today I re-read it and thought I might share it here. I love poetry, I have studied it at degree level, and want to get my fingers dirty dabbling in it again. But, I am so aware that bad poetry is just such an embarrassing thing, worse somehow than a bad water colour painting or uninspiring story because it seems clumsily pretentious too. So, I share with some trepidation, it is very short so if you do cringe it won't be for long!!


Surprise encounter

Walking through the cold, calm greys of dusk,
Along the margins of a field,
A tiny bird flits past my cheek
So close I clearly hear
Articulated echoes of its
Tilted, beating wings.


I suppose it was just an attempt to capture and encircle the experience, and even more the feeling of the experience. To mark it as worth remembrance and celebration. It was a split second that was imbued with life and connection for me, and I felt I wanted to honour it. It is strange what we do to honour moments isn't it - rituals, letters, rings, photographs, plantings, paintings - trying to mark impermanent, passing events with smudges of symbolic meaning and attachment. Since then, I watch the swifts skimming across the skies above our old barn with particular fondness, and the amazing outline of their outstretched wings in flight formed the basis for a jewellery collection.

manna {17} Spring at last

Spring is suddenly here, all green shoots and breezy sunshine and showers, and I am so ready for it! Everywhere I look there are new signs of the earth waking up, and with it I am noticing a much needed shift in energy and mojo myself! That extra hour of light in the evening and waking up to sun and birdsong, it all makes such a difference doesn't it?

Nothing beats the first cherry blossom and the blackthorn suddenly blooming in the hedgerow.

How walking helps wellness

I have written a personal post about the wonders of walking over at Haelen Therapy's blog, do take a look here. Does any of it resonate with you? x

manna {16} baltic bubbles

This good thing: the weather has taken another turn for the Baltic, but the upside is the frozen bubbles in puddles, and the frost on stalks and fronds. There is always something that catches the breath with its quiet beauty this time of year.

manna {15} january light

This good thing: the weather has been Baltic but the light, whether bright and jagged or diffused in milky mists, has been breathtaking.

It is always about the light, isn't it? The quality of it, the lack of it, the illuminations and contrasts it brings, the revelations, the transformations and transfigurations. 

manna {14} fairmined gold and silver

This good thing: fulfilling a long held goal for Wild Acre in 2017 before the end of January!

I am delighted to say that I am now a licencee for Fairmined gold and silver as well as Fairtrade Gold. This is important to me as it means I can now make my jewellery in silver which is totally ethically sourced - the silver is refined from the deposits mined for Fairmined gold, with all the benefits for mining communities and their local environments. For more information about what Fairmined is achieving for workers and the environment please see HERE for their website.

The ethical sourcing of my materials isn't an add on or greenwash for me, it is utterly foundational my business and practice, and very close to my heart. These ethical supply lines are in the early days of their existence, so there are various products still unavailable, (chain and small findings for example), so it is certainly a journey towards a fully ethical jewellery collection, but one I am committed to being entirely transparent about, and moving forwards towards. What it means is that I can use raw materials and you can buy jewellery that is making a real and tangible difference to human lives and the natural environment.

Within six months I plan to have fairmined silver and gold collections and Fairtrade gold collections and if you are interested in a piece of jewellery made especially for you in Fairmined precious metal, just let me know?

manna {13} botanical sketchbook

This good thing: I have cracked out this year's botanical sketchbook. I have had my first tentative scribbles, more of them later I hope to keep a fairly full jounal of finds and sketches through the year.

I walked today stopping here and there taking photos and picking little botanical fragments (yes, all responsibly!). Even in the bitter cold of a grey January day, there was still so much beauty. All a bit wabi sabi, all in various stages of decay and fairly monotone but still having its own fragile loveliness.

It is amazing how many of these fragments of natural material and the photos and sketches of them inspire my designs but also my thoughts about a whole range of things. Nature gently re-organises my thinking and feelings somehow, jostles them about a bit, into new paths and connections. Like so many people, I find nature both inspires and comforts. It is my wild church, and I find God here as much, often more, than in any building. But whether you are of any faith, or none, there is such freedom in walking, riding or running outside - the brain does not remain unaffected, the act of getting into wild spaces is, somehow, a healer. A counter-balance to the pace and noise of modern life. In a way, my sketchbooks are a sort of celebration of this.

manna {12} horizons

Happy New year! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and holiday time, my online time was kept to a minimum with all my family home, but it is good to be back in this tiny corner of the internet!

So new year, new horizons rising into view. This time of year, possibility stretches out invitingly doesn't it, a wide stretch of blue to arc across, full of potential and hope. With so much talk of new starts, resolutions and goal setting, I can get a bit rabbit-in-headlights, the hope tinged with worries of failure or disappointment lurking in all the shiny new promises and intentions? Relate?

This year feels different though. For the first time really, I am suddenly more interested in the learning, growing and connecting that the fresh new year offers. It feels gentler and kinder. There are things I would love to see happen, goals it would be great to achieve, but maybe I am finally old and wise enough to know there is likely to be both joy and pain, light and dark in the next twelve months, but through all of that there is so much grace and connection possible, so many opportunities to learn new things and have fun along the way - that potential really excites me. So, if you feel a little bit overwhelmed by resolution-itis, lets not intimidate ourselves by overly tyrannical resolution making and goal setting, and see what growth, connection and learning we can explore and enjoy along the way? I'm in for that!

manna {11} wabi sabi beauty

There is a Japanese traditional aesthetic that searches for and finds beauty in the simplest of places, often in fragile, worn, and unshowy items. This time of year, when plants are pared back and touched by decay or weathering, the wabi sabi beauty is released. Exquite loveliness is so often there, but not always shouting its presence. Like joy, sometimes it has to be uncovered with a keen eye that values it and is looking for it, even in unlikely places and moments.

manna {10} finding my business mojo

This good thing: discovering that there are ways of communicating my creative endeavours, ways of presenting, talking about and selling my work that feel so much more natural, so much more 'me' and so much in step with how I roll, that the way ahead is beginning to feel a bit clearer. And my very favourite way is to show my work at home, right at the heartbeat of all that is Wild Acre, because it is intimate, real and based in connections and relationships with the actual people who surround my life. It isn't, I don't think, about hiding in my comfort zone (and I have asked myself that plenty!), but finding a way to share what I make, that feels right and authentic. 

A huge thank you to the lovely friends and customers who popped into my Open Studio last week, it was a lovely morning. I hope you all enjoy your new Christmas sparkles!

manna {9} winter reflections

This good thing: low slung winter sunlight reflected in giant puddles.

manna {8} last of the leaves

This is a good thing: the last of the oak leaves strew the lanes and riverbanks around my home, and I am holding on to the vestiges of colour. 

manna {7} frosts

This is a good thing: The raw energy of sharp frost. There is something so energetic about the first few sharp frosts of the season, they wake up the senses like a blast of lemon juice to the mouth or a dive into the sea. And so beautiful.

manna {6} sky and water

This is a good thing: at the weekend I watched the Suffolk sea and skyscapes melting into each other as dusk approached. I have got the busiest two weeks of my working year now, and this moment to breathe, relax and get some perspective was the best preparation!  

manna {5} trees at twilight

This is a good thing: the upside of leaf fall is the tracery of branches, especially at twilight.

manna {4} when a plan comes together as a designer maker

This is a good thing: when a moment of inspiration, some planning and working and making and mistakes and redesigning and making some more and trusting your setter all comes together to create something that feels really special. I love these acorn pendants! I hope you do too, they will be in the webshop soon.

manna {3} oak trees

This is a good thing: mighty oak trees seem able to hang onto their leaves for a bit longer than most...

Today, I stood underneath this one that has reached over the river behind my house for more than a hundred years and marvelled at its magnificence and resilience. The leaves won't be able to hang on for many more days but my eyes are feeding on the year's final wild flourish of colour before it seeps away into a far more monochrome winter landscape.

manna {2} a bowl of soup on a grey day

It is a good thing: a steaming bowl of hearty soup on a chilly, late autumn day.

On a cold, dark lunchtime in november, alone in the house, it made sense to make something warm and cosy and nourishing. Leftovers of butternut squash soup with some homemade spelt bread, (River Cottage 'Bread' Handbook recipe), toasted and buttered, fresh tomatoes and an unapologetically salty, creamy but crumbly corner of Stilton. Self care, people!!

Literal and metaphorical manna - food for the body and soul on a grey day. 

manna {1} the lane that leads to home

MANNA: Full Definition of manna. 1 a : food miraculously supplied to the Israelites in their journey through the wilderness b : divinely supplied spiritual nourishment c : a usually sudden and unexpected source of gratification, pleasure, or gain. (Merriam-Webster dictionary)

Where have the weeks gone, burnished and glowing, they have certainly been beautiful? I have found myself slow (verrrry slow) to blog, partly because I tend to lean towards facebook and instagram these days, and yet, yet, I so miss my space here and the interaction with those of you who are kind enough to follow.

So what has been going on here? There have been many wanderings down these leaf-strewn lanes, even runs (even 10km can you believe!), there has been been designing and making of course, and family time and the gazing at supermoons and fireworks. There has been some heartache over politics and darkness in the world, some wondering how we can each find some way of making things better, even in tiny ways...

Although we don't celebrate thanksgiving like our american friends, this time of year with Christmas approaching, does make me prefoundly aware of the life changing power of real gratitude and how those feelings generate hope which in turn tends to spill outwards to others. Do you not find that in people you know that lead grateful, hope-filled lives - that life seems to ripple out in amazing ways into their communities and work? It is actually the sort of opposite of smug - it tends to propel people outwards to engage with and support others around them? Anyway, the easiest route for gratitude that I have found is to really pay attention to the small slivers of beauty and creativity I have all around me if only I stop rushing past them on my way to run errands, take the kids to school, tackle the laundry, write the to-do list - you know the things?! So, as this is not a flashy, monetised blog, it might as well be a celebration of beauty, a way to share the joy of small things, so I have decided to resurrect it slightly as a place to share a daily photo, maybe a thought or two about everyday, unexpected beauty and inspiration. 'Daily' may be an exaggeration, could we settle with 'regular'? Sometimes there might be some added news relating to my jewellery or  events but often it will just be the photo. I hope it will bring a tiny burst of beauty to you every day, a heaping up of the goodstuff amid all the doom and gloom in the news. A gift to me, that I pass on to you. I am going to call call these posts simply 'manna' - remember that Old Testament provision of daily nourishment - because that is what these moments are to me, soul food.

Today's photo is the lane to our home, the path to the black barn in a field we are lucky enough to call home. The bricks and beams that have held us, through good times and bad, for the last 16 years. This view is the way home, the crooked fork in the country lanes to our tiny patch of the spinning universe, it makes me want to shout with joy!

Have a great week! xx