The Stirring - Early Spring Notes from The Hill of the Poets

Today feels like spring is not far away - the birds are all at it - not just the proverbially shameless pigeons and sparrows, but robins, blackbirds and blue tits are tuning up their party pieces, and the crows and magpies are trying out their mating flights. One of the new streets in the estate is named Pyotshaw Road, (an old Scots name meaning Magpie Wood) so they must have been here a long while, and they really make their presence felt, lined up along the roof-tops and scavenging along the grass verges. There are two enormous nests in the tallest trees behind the house, fortunately undamaged by the recent storms. We were lucky with storm Éowyn, and the trees that came down have mostly been cleared. We missed one gig at Celtic Connections, and at the next people were joking about the lockdown vibe of having to stay at home. Today the wind is blustery but from the south, so it’s mild and the days are noticeable lengthening, with that thin, bleached light that sounds the alert for waking up, at least in my head.
It’s the time of new starts, of tentative beginnings, opening up to the world. It was Imbolc on Saturday, or the feast of St Bride as we celebrate in my circles. She is the patron of my parish, which as she is associated with poets, as well as wells and forges, makes her a good patron, not just for the Hill of the Poets, but for the town itself, which was known for iron working before railways and mines, and for electrical engineering more recently.I had a birthday last week, and my favourite present was a map of the immediate locality, on a much larger scale than the best Ordnance Survey map ordinarily available, on which I can find all the burns, so I’ll be able to go exploring. I’ve discovered hints of two healing wells in the vicinity - the notorious Borgie well, which had the reputation of driving anyone who drank from it crazy, and another one on Dechmont Hill, commemorated in the street-name Virtuewell Grove.

In the kitchen, the emphasis at this season is on clearing the decks, de-cluttering, cleaning windows, and using the stored food to create space in the cupboards for this year’s harvest. All the Christmas goodies have been eaten, and to be honest, I’ve started looking forward to leaner lighter food as we go into what used to be the Hungry Gap.
In the garden there is clearing too, cutting back last year’s foliage which I’d left for protection and shelter, and seeing what has survived and what is ready to come up. Chives, lemon balm and fennel are already showing new shoots and there are flower buds on the rosemary, and the first hint of rhubarb. The hardy plants seem to have made it, though some of them look battered, but the pelargonium cuttings I took in the autumn have all gone - fortunately I brought some into the house as insurance! The spring bulbs are all up, and snowdrops, witch hazel and primroses are out.

I keep saying I won’t buy many seeds this year, but I have gone in for a lot of colourful and wildlife friendly annuals for pots and the long strip beside the boundary fence, and I’m going to buy tomato seeds from a supplier called Seeds of Scotland. The Gaia Foundation points out that seed sovereignty is crucial for sustainable farming and is working with this group to develop locally grown seed, particularly suited to the climate and growing conditions of the area. Now that I’m too old to dream of a permaculture small-holding, and growing all my own produce, this is a small gesture I can make which might help other people to do more.

The Stirring

It has been raining for months
and the air smalls of wet leaves and wet dog.
The earth softens and slips under my feet
I can feel the moon’s pull in the drift
of sap in the cleavers, a change in my bones.

The hazel twig in my hands finds water,
but anything would in this wet country.
Yet I find comfort in this silent correspondence,
this secret wave of moon to plant, of tree
to hand, to underground watercourses.

It’s as if we all belonged, all spoke
the same language on some level too deep
and inarticulate to name. Spring’s coming.
Gonnae start something? It’s time.

In the poetry, things are beginning to happen. I am writing more and submitting more - poems about the moon, dowsing, Mercury, herbs and traditional music. The new book is almost two thirds drafted, and I’m planning to include an updated translation of The Charm of Nine Herbs - much freer and more responsive and poetic than the one I used to send out. I will send you a copy of that if anyone would like something more accurate!

I’m still studying non-violence, which seems even more crucial in the light of current politics, and the very charged atmosphere we live in, but I’m also reading Rebecca Beattie’s Wheel of the Year, linking seasons with the Wiccan festivals, and comparing it with the liturgical cycles of my own tradition.
Plus for poetry, Ellen McAteer’s powerful and adventurous collection dealing with a chaotic childhood and issues around gender and addiction, My Deep and Gorgeous Thirst,and Gerry Loose’s last book Untitled. Gerry died very suddenly last year, and this book is a powerful and inspiring memory. He was very influenced by his study of Buddhism and Chinese poetry, and he brought back to me my early days in Geopoetics, reminding me of the intellectual and aesthetic framework which originally got me writing - plus his commitment to nuclear disarmament and a non-violent future.
Please watch the website for news of a reading I’ll be doing for World Poetry Day. I will be in Cambuslang Library (Cambuslang Gate, Main Street) on 21st March at 11 a.m.

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