4 tree Grove N50° 31.447' W4° 28.523'4 tree copse craddock moor may 2016


Four Hawthorns in a grove. A rare haven. Shelter. Chance taken. Once seeds clung on to grow. A new green. Shaped by the wind. A church to reflect in. The common Hawthorn, Crataegus monogyna, can support more than 300 species of insect. Its berries, or haws, are a food source by migrating birds like Redwings, Fieldfares and Thrushes. Stopping points for food and stillness. Markers.

Paths are like the banks and bed of a river. Guiding water to another destination. Paths guide our fluid movement. Paths that lead to woodland. Woodlands, groves have roots. Branches. Not stationary. Moving in a different plain. Cause to pause. Places to sit a while. Go wider. Deeper. Higher. Moving between thoughts and locations. Forward. Backward. logical conclusions. Linear. Paths have boundaries. I’m not the first to say that we move along paths but the paths stay the same.

Branching. Dendritic. Either /or. We move as fish in water between the banks of a river.

I lie on the ground within the 4 trees. I expand like a liquid poured. Outward. Familiar embrace. Soaking into the soil. A moment of detail and abstract thought. My mind, is a stone skipping over the water, connection on impact with the surface. Realisation. I am layer of the Earth. Connected again. Our separation could only be temporary.

hawthorn bark 1 webI am the White Goddess of the Hawthorn, Olwen, walking the universe, leaving a white track of Hawthorn petals as stars. Focuses of energy, light.

I am a flicker of light on a mountainside, between two eternities.

I am a skylark, I see as a skylark. Rising, my song still heard as shrink to a pin prick dot.

caradon stone 1 web

I see the earth as it sees itself. I am the landscape.







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