Today is winter solstice, the turning of the light, and this blog is springing briefly to life for a winter connection and reflection.
As Christmas approaches, these short days of the year have their own brief beauty and gifts, especially here in Folkestone. Here, through community and celebration, performances spring miraculously through opening doors and the sea and sky thrill with their shifting light show.
Our group of shingle garden volunteers will meet tomorrow for coffee and conversation, content for now to let nature hold her breath. But, as the ancients did before us, I expect we’ll be looking to the return of the light and life-giving warmth. We know that spring will soon enough bring growth and the need for glorious activity.
Have you noticed that we’ve changed our group name to Invasive Species? It was pointed out to us that some of the plants we have nurtured for conservation from the old railway line are considered to be invasive. I think that brought out our warrior spirit, our sense of connection with the wild places of nature and the indomitable human heart. And our sense of irony. So the phrase has been adopted.
When we meet, I’m sure we’ll also indulge in remembering our collective endeavours of the year that will soon be ending. How we collaborated to make a shingle garden at the Harbour Arm, how we learned about maritime plants and expressed our creativity
.
Among our creative number is poet Chris Poundwhite, who runs ecopoetry courses and workshops. See www.gotothepine.com
Chris has written a beautiful, evocative work inspired by the group and the garden. Entitled Shingle Garden, the poem is a work in progress with aspirations to become longer and to be released in book form. Here, with his kind permission, is a taster:
waves sing somewhere
across the wall
and overhead
the signal mast
stands dark upon
the late sky, throngs
with flocks of starlings
behind the brewery,
behind the bakery,
the smell of yeast
the smell of salt
here we make
a garden
From Shingle Garden by Chris Poundwhite
