I Want to Bee a Garden
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
I want to bee a garden CREATIVE POLLINATION 1 These creative texts were grown within the unique conditions of the season. From the depths of lockdown in Glasgow, when access to urban green space became a lifeline, Woodlands Community garden was a sanctuary. As a publicly accessible space, it remained open for everyone. While bees flitted from flower to flower in its colourful diversity of vegetal growth,Creative Pollination offered 12 participants a supported journey through a stimulus of nature-based activities and creative prompts. With a botanical influence, weeklyWild Cards were gifted to each participant: firstRoots , then Leaves, Flowers and Seeds. Each card invited modes of encountering the living world, with each activity scaled to become fully accessible for those who were shielding. Within this collection — the Fruits of their experience — a diversity of personal responses has gathered. Urban ecologies with specific trees and an abundance of flowers characterise the writing, creating a garden-like collective of interdependency and cross- pollination. Imaginative forms and personal narratives intertwine, revealing encounters that speak to the limitations, grief and disorientation caused by the pandemic, but also to the beauty, vulnerability and vitality of nature. Creative Pollination was hosted by Woodlands Community Development Trust during the spring and summer of 2020, Each piece is testament to the relationship between participant both online and in and around Woodlands Community and the more-than-human world, nurtured by the gift of their Garden. The course was part of our new Nature Recovery creative attention. What if by the simple act of noticing, the active project which helps people to recover from the stress of the Covid pandemic through spending time outdoors in nature. tending of our creativity and ecological connections could flower? Through creative practice, tendrils of new growth might emerge More information about the work of Woodland’s which, like a sweet pea reaching for support, help orientate Community Development Trust and how we are supporting people through the pandemic is available on our website our human community towards reciprocal relationship with the woodlandscommunity.org.uk. earth. So, please enjoy this collection: may its seeds of inspiration continue to disperse, inspire and nourish. Creative Pollination was made possible thanks to funding by the Scottish Government’s Covid-19 Wellbeing Fund. Amy Clarkson Project facilitator & editor www.earthskylearning.com 75 copies of this publication were printed in Glasgow Design: Dominique Rivard 2020 September 2 CREATIVE POLLINATION CREATIVE POLLINATION 3 Tree Hugger Kirstin I’m not a Tree Laura Baillie Berni Deep beneath the chit chat, bird song and curious dogs, polyamorous roots I’m not a tree. Let me turn into a reach out for other roots. They do not discriminate; like a slow motion lasso I’d rather break than bend, scream, a thunder shifting through the dirt, collecting; all roots are welcomed and embraced. fall into dark waters reverberating through Pulsing tentacles unite to bridge complex information and gain affection. Who knows, this could be courtship for trees, quietly flirting beneath our and be washed up on shore. the deep soil. battered trainers and tiresome ruminations that slowly melt into the ether after walking for a while under a canopy of these Glasgow trees. Let the lightning strike me, I say thank you Like plaited hair, roots fortify in their bond, an ever growing muscle that the weight of the seasons to the witch’s hand, is constantly rewiring, connecting, growing and changing to enhance a snap my branches there is strength in vast underground community at a cellular level. We humans can only shed my leaves my sap, my streams. ever speculate as to how this mysterious sophistication truly operates. destroy my soul. Fascinated by the mirroring aspect between humanity with the natural world, it isn’t a surprise to me that humans also need similar qualities to I don’t need roots to thrive, to connect, to grow, and to change. Let my roots rot, hold up my crown. find new ways of being I can grow again I imagine all our respective anchor trees from Pollock, to the Westend, to the city centre and beyond: dermal cables all reaching out to one another, anchored to the ground. start over, anywhere creating an underground blueprint, connecting the tree huggers of Glasgow. Let the water levigate And once I am dust my bones, corrode me I’ll live in the wind to sand, and start over again. to fall on your feet – food to you, again. Extirpate me and I’ll shriek, like an angry Spin the wheel, mandrake I will curse Footsteps, footsteps. your name. That’s all we are. 4 CREATIVE POLLINATION CREATIVE POLLINATION 5 Anchor Gracie Rain on a leaf Alex Beswick Cochrane Once, at school, my friend Alex tried to recount to us some fact she had Here it comes, a summer shower. Pitter-patter, a gamelan chatter. Countless learnt at the weekend about a type of tree that had begun growing upside rain drops on countless leaves. Then a more insistent murmur builds up to down because of climate change. She often picked up little nuggets like a drumming, crackling downpour. these and there was usually something lost in translation. Eventually we established that she had seen a photograph of a tree whose leafless branches You quick-step for the shelter of a tree and its boughs enfold you in their grew so twisted that they resembled roots. But we couldn’t find any kind gloomy embrace. Now you can listen to that symphony of rain on leaf. of link to climate change in the original article or anything to suggest the Some admire the hidden world of leaves, revealed only by a microscope. I root-tree’s roots looked like anything other than, well, roots. So it was admire their immeasurable numbers blazing across an autumnal landscape more of a double rooted creation, one set below ground, one set above. in colours of gold, yellow, red and russet. Leaves help define seasons, give Still, thinking about roots reminded me of my original visualisation of shade, freshen the air, provide shelter and food. Alex’s story. A tree with roots flailing in the light of the sun and leaves and fruit digging into the soil. In my mind the sun, burning molten due to the Underneath the tree you can watch the droplets trace leaf veins, as they climate crisis would have been scorching the trees’ green leaves: ‘sod this’ flow along each tiny furrow. Each droplet bends the light and steals the would think the tree and dive its sunburnt head into the cool soil beneath. world as they tremble, poised at a green serrated edge. Finally they fall, I’ve always struggled to view change as a gradual process. and splash onto the next leaf down and so it begins again, this shattering and merging of water. You can smell the rain sinking into the hard soil, that hit of petrichor. It’s an awkward word for the earthy mineral scent of quenching a thirst, an explosion of renewal. You only have so much time to shelter under a tree. The leaves can only hold it back for so long; all those droplets percolating down the network. Water falling from leaf to leaf, glistening the bark until finally it’s raining under the tree. The wind rustles the leaves and fat drops of water fall over you. Psithurism: another awkward word to describe that music of leaves rustling in the wind. But this is Glasgow. Forget the symphony of rain, the beauty of a leaf, the sounds of dripping water all around you. It’s poetry now but when the rain doesn’t stop for four days your language will be as earthy as the petrichor. Tree in the rain, Rebecca Crawford 6 CREATIVE POLLINATION CREATIVE POLLINATION 7 The Purr Tree Gracie The Balcony Pat Beswick Byrne The fruit on the tree are maybe half grown. At first we thought they were It’s wonderful having outside space when you live in a flat four storeys apples but when we sat down and looked more closely it was obvious they above ground. It allows a particular connection with the world. I love weren’t round enough. I don’t know if I’ve seen a pear tree before, or more looking out over the train station with all its hustle and the red sandstone likely I’ve never knowingly seen one before. I wonder how many apple trees tenements that situate you firmly in Glasgow, their unused chimney pots I’ve glanced at were actually pear. linking to the past. Looking west I can see the Kilpatrick Hills that sit above my home village. I can also see Great Western Road, built by the The tree is tethered by a length of blue rope. My first thought is that the Romans. It is well used, but when the Coronavirus pandemic hit Glasgow rope must be there to prevent the tree being stolen (something country the roads became much quieter. bumpkin Jo finds very funny). It takes me a second to recognise that it’s actually more likely there to keep the young tree from growing slanted. I’ve There was less happening in the world out there. On the balcony, activity always enjoyed growing up in a big city but wish I didn’t always assume continued. Spring was unusually warm and the flowers were happy in things are going to be stolen if they’re not bolted down. the sunshine. The tulips seemed to last forever, tilting over further and further, the petals refusing to drop.