Tag: Devon Wildlife Trust

Nature’s Magic

Summer is upon us and the weather is warm warm warm. Still, no excuse for not sitting indoors writing! And the writing is flowing, for an array of shorts, and for the novel. Inspiration is a common theme, and I don’t have to look far to be inspired, by nature, by colour, by stories both personal and fictional.

A recent trip to the river Otter gave a glorious fix of wildlife, or at least a tantalising reminder of those special moments of hope. Following Devon Wildlife Trust’s successful reintroduction of beavers into the area, I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, I might see one. Alas, it was not meant to be, but special in any case to see gnawed trees and an impressive dam. Given a chance, these industrious creatures are fighting back against flooding, while bringing a whole host of species back into area – the magic of nature. And so we looked, scouring the riverbank, soaking up the wild atmosphere.

(Click here for more about the river Otter in a previous blogpost – #lovedevon)

Nature is a prominent theme in my series, Blood Gift Chronicles. In Return of the Mantra, I explore the cost of exploitation; in The Warder, it’s the fight to preserve wildlife; and in Book 3, there’s a personal connection with the natural world, so personal we might actually merge. Like its predecessors, Book 3 is bringing a personal arc that is out of this world, transformational, and colourful.

Colour…

At home, flowers are starting to bloom…

The bikes are out…

There’s art in the cathedral on the theme of nature…

And my own art is slowly taking shape.

Colour, nature, magic…

What’s your inspiration?

Nature’s Solace

I’m looking forward to a busy week ahead, with lots in store for International Women’s Day, among other things. But first, time to reflect on a moment of peace and quiet with a visit to Dunsford nature reserve. It seems timely to celebrate a piece of nature, with the recent announcement of the Global UN Treaty to protect marine biodiversity. Here on land, and at a local level, we continue to be thankful for Devon Wildlife’s efforts in preserving local habitats.

Last year’s visit to the reserve inspired a poem simply entitled Dunsford, click here. There were no squeaking otters this time around; instead we were treated to a flowering of early springtime bulbs with carpets of daffodils punctuated by snowdrops and wandering robin redbreasts. Surrounded by woodland valley slopes, breathe fresh air and follow the meandering path of Devon’s river Teign…

 

Wishing everyone a great week ahead…

February Sun

Pausing to reflect on how lovely it has been to see the sun this February. After many weeks of rain, it’s felt like a real treat to be able to bask in some sun traps. This curly-whiskered furball adores soaking up the rays, the hotter the better, despite her thick fur.

And crisp dry weather is great for getting out and about. Huge thanks to Devon Wildlife Trust for creating and preserving some wonderful natural habitats to enjoy. Including along the River Otter, where we recently ventured. It’s a river with a well-known and long history, including its role in driving watermills used to power local textile and corn mills. Milling has taken place for over a 1,000 years at Otterton, and continues!! And so, on the river’s epic journey from the Blackdown Hills to the English Channel at Budleigh, we met up with it at the salt marshes and reed beds, overlooked by the red Jurassic cliffs, home to millions of years of earth’s history…

Home to birds a plenty… Well, perhaps on another day we’ll get lucky with the kingfishers and egrets, but it was fabulous to spot a curlew, especially since they’re on the UK’s red list, a priority for bird conservation…

And I look forward to an evening amble, keeping an eye out for the industrious beaver…

But where did all the otters go?

And finally a gulp of sea air, and a lucky find, spotting the colour among a sea of pebbles…

Now it’s back to work for me…

Have a great week!

A Touch of Nature

Mia is the in-house monitor for season changes. From sun worshipper during the heatwave, to couch potato, taking to her red blanket when Autumn arrives.

After a summer of family grief and the upheaval that comes with it, summer passed in the blink of an eye or a hazy wave, dependent on the moment. So before all the leaves have disappeared from the trees, I thought I’d revisit a recent outing to a local reserve, lovely Dunsford.

We’re so grateful to Devon Wildlife Trust for maintaining these pockets of nature, an outing so magical it inspired a poem:

Dunsford; by Susie Williamson 

Walk with me,

You who feels troubles plenty,

Weighed with thoughts of disconnection,

Bring your heavy steps,

Across the swathes of Clifford Bridge,

Spy the magic from afar,

Allow your mind, your thoughts and all that you are,

To embrace,

Open your heart to the wonders abound,

Dunsford Reverse, nature’s ground,

Where coppices grow, regrow, recycle, renew refresh,

Tune your senses to the cool, crisp clarity of nature’s drug,

Eyes wide to the magic like a heady rush,

In this place of vivid tones,

And transient joy through valley slopes,

Cast your eye,

Over crystal clear waters of the River Teign,

With a rushing flow felt deep within,

Your cells alive with the sounds of a watery dance,

Spy the slender pickings of a native dipper,

The distant tap of a kingfisher,

And in a moment your heart skips a beat,

To hear an otter’s indomitable squeak,

You pause,

Beneath the arched boughs of a sycamore tree,

A place of nature’s unity,

Leaves touch glassy water with the lightest kiss,

While tumbled-down steeples of jagged rocks,

Cloudy crystal granite shards defend the shores,

Watched by passing deer from slopes up high,

Through dappling fronds their furtive spy,

Grants a wish,

For those who look beyond the pale,

To where sun and moon cast dreamlike rays,

Too soon for springtime daffodils,

But climb woodland heights for magicked sights,

And long-tailed tits like dragonflies,

Acorns beneath giant ferns like trees,

Half-eaten in this woodland sanctity

Passersby,

Feel the brush of air from a tawnies wing,

The distant sound of a goosander’s song,

Climb through hazel, oak and hawthorn,

Barbs to give a friendly scratch,

While reaching heady woodland heights,

Breathe the view of this vast valley,

Home to bracken slopes and fallow deer,

And know, our connective tissue.