I was fortunate enough to make a trip out to the distant islands of the St. Kilda group this month, 80km west of the Outer Hebrides. Its long been a goal for me. It felt like a gentle homecoming, even if the sea was not so gentle!
To sail with the winds, meet the seabirds in their true element, watch dolphins dance the crests of the waves and smell the gannetry in all its guano glory was truly astonishing. My mind was full before we ever toured the stacs and met the breeding birds. The flora on Hirta, the inhabited isle, is a micro-botanists dream. Soay sheep, probably the most studied group of sheep in the world, nibble neatly along the old field sites. They are lightweight and do little damage compared to mainland breeds. These are sheep as our bronze age ancestors knew them.
I wrote a dream poem about The Rock 2 years ago. The ‘mailboats’ (once the emergency means of island to mainland communication) are still released from Hirta to see where the currents take them. Now they are of wood with a plastic float attached. Recent ones made it to Lewis in 3 days, or Iceland in 4months. Its a big variation and long time to wait for assistance.
The mailboat
“On this Rock but sheep and guga prosper
God’s grace must see us through”
The fisherman bent his head, turned
his whittling in salt-cracked hands, offering
“In these lands we work with Manannan
the seasons; savour hardship, possibility”
He tossed the wave-gifted wood
to his ashen child. “She’ll plot her own course
a bhalaich. We can’t protect those at sea except by prayer”
“I must rigg her well”, thought the boy, “to catch
the fairest winds, tack true, she’ll need fine sails”
He decked her out with bone glue; woollen thread
a bottle of paternal wisdom; quietly sliced
their only tome at Mark; fixed flag then cork and smiled.
Barefoot, heart-grasping her: he sped to shore
where foam massaged her driftwood core
tugged her, fretful, painter eager
to loose. He, minding His fathers words, speaking dreams.
On platinum sands of lilac shell
lapped in sea-lettuce, tads of dulse:
wrappings for a beached and barnacled prism
waiting and waiting, hands to bear
uncork, pluck strings
fell mast, ease out
a long lost sailor’s salient prayer.
“Master, carest thou not that we perish?” And he arose and rebuked the wind and said unto the sea
“Peace, be still”. and the wind ceased and there was a great calm. Mark 4:38
Its hard to get out of the rut that politics and national emotions polarise.Yet some things matter more: the smile of a child, the purr of a companion cat, the sweet scent of mock orange blossom mingling with roses. The taste of this year’s first raspberries is not devalued by a bank or investor. New laid eggs are just as rich and wholesome. A house is worth the value of one house in its shelter, convenience and ability to open doors to neighbours and friends. Looking through my journal i came across the notes for the following poem:
In Weston, our little home hideaway, we have a strong interest in mental wellness and sharing skills to allow others to become more themselves if they will allow it.
Alan was teaching his WRAP courses (wellness recovery action plan) and asked me to write a response in the same way as he asks his groups, on the subject of hope. The following words are from a song that resulted and he used it this week with a group. It seemed to strike a chord and they asked me to share it. In this creative spirit he and I complement each other, as indeed we all do to create the vibrant mix that is mankind. For all the dark, there is light, for all the difficult times, there will be tranquillity. Life is a balance. Riding the waves.
improbably fat queen torsos to sycamore’s sweetness
while thrush and blackbird lilt and warblers babble news
The first midges of summer dip
down to taste the stationary ones
Mossy coated oaks leaf up to match that tint
beeches wave and flatten palms
reach out to catch the evening light and I
recall another bluebell wood
full of sensual scents, scilla’s lust
your lips and mine drowning in sensation
hidden by young leaves, swimming in
the essence of it all, your clever touch
I never minded any midges then
but felt the spongy moss thick beneath my skin
the rustling of last season’s dust
and twigs from winter storms
and felt the ripening of summer fruits to come
lost myself inside your heady blues
the scent of hyacinths
the scent of you.
Rosie Mapplebeck
14.5.16
Last week 6 storytellers ventured out into the Bluebell Wood to be part of Natural Change, a project which has been spun from work with WWF to create sustainable change, personal awareness and empowerment. We walked slowly, slower, stood still sharing and finally lay for an hour on our own letting the surrounding speak to us and us relate our lives to the land.
I lay under the snow blossoms of a wild cherry and let its calmness soothe me. Realised then how long it was since I had truly connected with my core places, both inner and outer.
Striving to ‘get on’ in the world, to play our part, can disconnect us from ourselves and our planet. Taking time to breathe in, to ground, to know who we are, we move forward in a stronger way, more in tune with ourselves, our tasks, and our land.
Trusting in connection and re-connection this week has been rich and enjoyable. Friday’s Burns Cottage event led to a meeting of 4 lady poets- a cackling coven from across Ayrshire and a lot of laughter, we will work together again.
Tonight its Burns supper night (again)-that time of year here in Ayrshire, birthplace of the Bard. A vegan one this time, so looking forward to the food. Actually, I was just at the Alloway Burns Club supper in the same venue so I know the food will be good. How will the Toast to the Lassies speech be used? Time will tell. Saturday’s was by Alloway church’s minister Neil McNaught who was very funny. I sing with their wee choir- we do it for love not talent, though we do have Bruce Kennedy’s lovely tones to help us. He sings with Luath. Karen who conducts us can aye keep us right. So since I was in the moos and wandering old Alloway’s footpaths, I started singing, like you do, and taped some in the underpass- hence the sound.
Winter days give me more time in the kitchen and reason to create calorific treats to heat us when we are working outside in the cold. So here is a sweet treat and a different kind of soup to try.
easy bake for a winter’s day
Tiddler’s plum cake
This is an all-in-one lazy cake so you can spend more time fussing your cat. Thats very important, says tiddler, remember your priorities. Everything is mixed and cooked in the one heat-proof bowl
In a large Pyrex-type bowl place:
4 ounce margarine or butter
2 eggs
One ripe banana
4 oz soft brown sugar
3 oz sultanas
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoons cinnamon and 2 of mixed spice
2 teaspoons Ginger
Three oz polenta (corn) meal
3 oz self raising gluten-free flour
Six bottled or canned plums and 2 fl oz of syrup from plums
Method: mix everything together in the bowl, beat well, place in medium oven for 40-50 minutes until a skewer placed into the centre comes out clean
Leek and lemon soup
The green end of half a leek finely shredded
Half courgette grated
1/2 oz butter, sweat the veg together on moderate heat
Half of lemon rind and flesh
Large pinch dry bay
2 teaspoons vegan bouillon
Black pepper to taste
add 1 L water, Bring to boil and simmer for 20 minutes, blend
Add a dessert spoon chopped parsley
And 1 teaspoon honey: be careful to balance the sour and the sweet
Like many I am feeling heavy after the Christmas fare, despite not eating a Christmas day dinner! There has been a long season of entertainment all with excess calories so I thought I would cook a winter hearty food and then go for a stroll to walk excess calories away.
Out into the rain then and sludging through mud down to Bluebell Wood with the dogs. No-one about, oh the joy of winter walks. At first sight, all is quiet in the wild wood. Leaves have finally been ripped from branches by high winds, leaving the tree frames for us to delight in their form and make birdwatching easier. Robins and blackbirds huddle against trunks, a buzzard flits branch to branch upsetting wood pigeons. On the ground the green tips of wild garlic are exposed by driving rains wearing the humus away. The river below is full to the brim, rolling over Heron Rock with an afterthought of spray. Herbs like Robert and comfrey withdraw into the ground but the Winter Heliotrope glories in the open canopy, its leaves hearting up out of the earth and a lone flower head displayed to remind me of the November scent of its even earlier blooms. Ylang-ylang is the nearest smell I know to it, a hyacinth-grouped head of daisied flowers, rays and florets exuding delicate perfume. I pluck one and inhale the fragrance but it is fleeting after losing connection to the earth. I place it in my mouth and taste a faint pollen reminder of the smell. I intuit: “Light in the darkness; growth in adversity; let the challenges be your light”.
Walking past the picnic area I see pallets piled ready to make a play area. Its meant to be a forest school, only no-one yet learned which tree is which or how they integrate with our lives and help us, so several plums and gages have been cut away which would have given fruit for jam and spreads. It is though a good step, to have children and adults working together outside. I send my love and thanks to those trees. Some may grow again from stumps when the humans are bored and gone to new play places.
Striding now, my old wet dogs looking tired, I stop at a the sound of chirruping in front, then all about me. I am surrounded by long-tailed tits, their bobbing heads and flexing tails swinging on ash and oak twigs. Always on the move, always in a family group, I try to record their singing over the pattering of rain. I try to walk in their flight path but its never linear and they soon whirl away and lose me. I re-test the heliotrope’s musky fruit flavour. Spring blossom no longer feels so far away.
I promised you recipes so here you are:
Puy lentils with beetroot and red onions (to serve 4)
Soften 2 red onions and a couple cloves garlic in 1 Tablespoon olive oil
add 227g (8 oz) puy or small brown lentils
2 tsp dried crumbled rosemary leaves
1 dessertspoon bouillon powder (I used Marigold vegan)
2 fresh beetroots, topped and tailed and cut in 1cm chunks
a good splash 80ml/ 3fl oz apple or dry sherry type wine
black pepper to taste
1 Tbsp dried green seaweeds for the je ne sais quoi
water to cover all
Simmer till lentils are soft, adding more water if needed to leave a soft mixture.
Add a chopped apple, handful of chunked green beans for colour and steam through for 10 mins.
Clever clogs AGA owners can do this in the medium oven. the rest of us can use a saucepan on a cooking ring. Forest schoolers/ bush-crafters will of course be cooking over a controlled camp fire!
Serve with steamed rice cooked with coriander seed and …..
Christmas sprouts
Sprinkle 1/2 teaspoon of caraway seeds into a saute pan and heat till fragrant.
Add a dash of light cooking oil (e.g. almond) and heat gently.
Quarter 10 brussels sprouts, add to pan, put a tight lid on and start to steam/ saute the veg. for 3 minutes.
Mix in the pulp of a finely sliced orange, put lid back on and simmer for 2 more minutes before serving. Just as nice served cold.
You may have noticed that Tiddler has not helped with these recipes. She is sulking because of the lack of butter (she is not vegan!) and fast asleep full of Christmas goodies. The sprouts here are a pretty shade as they are a purplish variety ‘Redarling’ bought on the stalk, I prefer to buy Brussels sprouts this way as I think they keep much better.
Paul Creighton has the Singer Songwriter Session this week, we get a wee bit ghoulish in the run up to All Souls Day & Samhain AND we “Share the Ayr” with new event TAMFEST (this Sat in Ayr) – Paul Creighton has made music and the practise & teaching of Peace Studies his lifetime’s work. He regularly takes his music the USA, has been a significant figure in the Common Ground movement & was given an International award for creating a programme for young people in war torn countries. But he is a also a beautiful songwriter, and is about to release an album of his work. We are lucky to have him as a regular player around the Ayrshire Folk scene – he has supported and inspired many and continues to do so in all his work. A new departure this week – some live creepy stories from Rosie, an Ayrshire based storyteller ( appearing this weekend at Burns Museum Alloway and Tamfest in Ayr ), AND Calum Lykan who treads the Royal Mile in Edinburgh spinning his grisly tales. TAMFEST is a new all day family event in Ayr, based around the Burns poem Tam O’SHanter… more info about all these in the links below Acoustic Bliss is an open mic which welcomes players of all ages, abilities and genres .It is in it’s 10th year and over 500 different artists have shared their music with local audiences, and now a global one via the internet. Each week an original act is featured as well as a spot for everyone who turns up to play …there are no plans, rehearsals soundchecks or running order.. in the true spirit of live music, each night is made by those who turn up… a bit of mayhem but a lot of heart and soul, No two nights are ever the same thanks to the fantastic musical community of Ayrshire on the West Coast of Scotland…and beyond… Bailey Guitars make beautiful, hand crafted instruments in the rolling hills of South Ayrshire, Scotland with renewable energy… and host Acoustic Bliss..their guitars really are Made to be Played
Thats another Valentine’s day past and now my life will be worth living again because She received her red rose, now plonked proudly on the kitchen table for us all to get prickles from. Honestly, as if you could eat roses? Oh, humans use them to flavour food? Well they just would. Now if he had brought her a platter of prawns or a side of salmon I could understand the celebration. She says its a miracle in itself since Dad is autistic and doesn’t really get the romance thing at all. I think it helped that his granddaughter was here to ensure something happened. It was because she was staying that the hearts and flowers came out from Mum too, only hers were of the edible variety so I thought I would share her recipe, seeing as I don’t miss much from my viewpoint on the Dragon’s hearth. I think she was also celebrating having the first saffron-yolked eggs of the year laid by our cackling crew of hens.
Valentine’s yoghurt cakes – to make 10 individual cakes
4 oz margarine or soft butter (3 1/2 oz for the cake, 1/2 for your cat), 4oz vanilla-scented sugar, 6 oz gluten free self raising flour, 2 free-range and from happy hen eggs, 2 Tbsp thick greek yoghurt, soy milk, 2 Tbsp fresh pomegranate seeds, 2 Tbsp sultanas, 1 Tbsp strawberry jelly sweets (Mum used ones made from real fruit juice). Optional: 2 dsspn cocoa powder to make some cakes darker and chocolatey.
Beat marg. sugar and yoghurt together till pale, add eggs with a little flour so they don’t curdle the mix. Whisk till mix is light and fluffy. Add soy milk till mix falls from spoon in dropping consistency. Thats dropping not dripping! Add fruits and sweets. To make some contrasting colour and flavour, add cocoa powder to up to half the mix. Place mixture in greased silicone moulds and bake in a moderate oven for about 30 mins till browned and puffed up.
Tip: after Valentine’s day, shops are full of things like heart-shaped moulds for very little cost. Mum has heart ones and rose-shaped ones as well as butterflies and other shapes for fun.
when your loved one brings a red rose, reciprocate with a heart-shaped cake
She says its a miracle in itself since Dad is autistic and doesn’t really get the romance thing at all. I think it helped that his granddaughter was here to ensure something happened. It was because she was staying that the hearts and flowers came out from Mum too, only hers were of the edible variety so I thought I would share her recipe, seeing as I don’t miss much from my viewpoint on the Dragon’s hearth. I think she was also celebrating having the first saffron-yolked eggs of the year laid by our cackling crew of hens.