Journeys into the Literary Landscape

Re-connecting people with the hills

Living Heritage Welcome to our Journey into the Literary Landscape

This book is designed to share our description of “nice stream” and get experiences of helping culture and them to look more closely and they landscape come alive for young people. then come up with “the white stream, the loud stream, the dancing burn, the Journeys into the Literary Landscape fairy burn and the stream of sorrow….”. is one of a range of community-based activities being delivered by the Living We believe that successful writing arises Lomonds Landscape Partnership. from the power to evoke the ‘specific’ The project was designed to inspire and our ability to expand this and young people to develop a deeper take the reader along with us. So the connection with the poetry, literature skills developed on these workshops and landscape of the Lomond Hills in are essential for the creation of more and to encourage them to develop specific and more skilful poetry and their own creative response to the prose. The benefits of this work will, of landscape in a medium of their choice. course, also be felt in many other areas Students from eleven1 local secondary of schoolwork where essay writing and schools journeyed into the Lomond Hills descriptive power is required. with its quiet and magical spaces and in the process transformed this place into Another of our aims is to foster a their own ‘literary landscape’. sense of being ‘at home’ in the local landscape, understanding the basics Our ‘Journeys’ begin with a walk. of how it was created and something During our wanderings we ask of the people and activities that have questions. These questions are taken place there over time. In this designed to inspire a closer attention respect we had the good fortune to to the detail of the world around us. be able to take part in the first-ever More specifically, while we walk, we archaeological dig on East Lomond. invite the young people to challenge themselves and increase their powers Under the creative guidance of poets of observation and description. For and artists from near and far2 those example one poet might stop at a who came took to the adventure with bridge and ask “What kind of burn enthusiasm, passion, openness and is this?” We challenge the initial talent.

1 Falkland House School, Auchmuty, Woodmill, Kinross, , Kirkland, Buckhaven, Leven, Balwearie, Bell Baxter and High Schools. 2 Mandy Haggith, Chris Powici, John Brewster, Ken Cockburn, Allison & Bray and Iain Beattie.

2 Each of the artists brought different qualities to the experience…this is an example.

Inside a yurt, deep in the Falkland Estate, boys sit cross–legged on cushions. A fire is crackling in the fire-pit outside and a freezing easterly wind blows around the outside of the canvas. We are mulling over our walk through the woods and the words we have gathered.

Chris turns to student: “This poem sprang fully formed from you…” Student: Smiles and looks at floor…

Chris: speaking slowly, with gravity… “One of the most natural things a man can do is to light a fire cook a meal and post it on Instagram”

…all laugh…

Chris: “It’s a good poem, it’s a good poem, do you want to know why?” Nods all round Chris: “Because you take us somewhere and then surprise us at the end.”

More nods Student: very quietly… “It’s true, too”… Adult: “What did you say there…Tell us again?” Student: “It’s true…” Adult and Chris: “Well that’s exactly right and that is what poets spend their life on the hunt for...something that is true.”

More nods…

3 My Day at Falkland Luke Wright Kirkland High School & Community College

Today we all went to Falkland and it was On our walk we saw a tree like a fun. We went on an adventure and we dragon’s neck bending round a corner. also completed a little piece of written We also collected things to write about - work. We worked with a writer/poet what they looked like, felt like and how when we were writing. they were hard, soft or even smooth.

We also roasted marshmallows. Some Some of us had lunch outside – some of us did a long jump; some of us went got a little wet and some got really wet in water. Also we saw a tree house as it was raining at the time. and we went into the forest. We had an activity when partners had to find We played games once we finished the something cool or smart. One person fire and played tig. We also heard some had to close their eyes and the partner poems of John Brewster’s and little bits had to guide them. of some of his books.

Kirkland High School & Community College pupils in the woods

4 Falkland Nature Cameron Gillespie Kirkland High School & Community College

In the early morning at Falkland the birds were chirping. The water was flowing and the deer were in their herds, happily walking along the green and long wet grass. The trees were waving from side to side. Falkland is so beautiful, a very good holiday home. A peaceful and quiet place.

Tarantula Jodie Cunningham Kirkland High School & Community College

Today I was in the forest Away from my home Running through the trees Amazed by the view Nature is so amazing, I even met a tarantula Today was the best Unfortunately Laughter And fun has to end.

“Just so you know, this was the best day out of school, ever.”

Danielle McLoughlin, 5 What Wood Becomes Created by Chris Powici, Poet1 From a word basket created by

As we walk and ask questions, we gather ‘word baskets’ of observations, comments, questions and descriptors. This collection is then worked together by the poet and the group. dirty yellow angel-shaped sycamore leaf fallen to earth the monkey puzzle cone thing lay half-buried in twigs, half way to becoming a pianist’s hand, tender and fleshy and just able to bend so many birds flapping and calling like rain running in little rivers down corrugated iron a bird’s wing like a wave then another and another so many birds making rain when Cara shakes the burnt dead ash branch hear the dead leaves sing lichen on winter trees like old doors the words of the woods are dirty beech leaf glittering wet cold doleful chestnut mouldy yellow sycamore dead plasticy leaves inky dampness chlorine smelling moss musty wet earth tender fragile Falkland

1 Chris Powici www.northwordsnow.co.uk

6 That Autumn Niamh Corkey

The workshops took place over different seasons and so the students’ writing reflects those seasons and the accompanying changes in weather and atmosphere.

It was not the sort of day you would another experience like this, at the time want to be out walking. I thought about taken for granted, but now seeming this as I trudged through the snow, other-worldly. But the image started to seeking refuge from the cold, dreary flicker and slowly petered out. weather. I ran to the tree, screaming “No!” The I heard a crunch from under my boot. I tears welled up in my eyes and I started bent down, my knees stiff, and brushed sobbing once more. I fell to my knees, the frost from a small, burnt orange leaf. head in hands and cried. And cried. I The color of flames. No, I tried to push don’t know how long I was there for, the thought out of my mind. I stared at the foot of the big old oak tree. It intently at the little leaf, I couldn’t tell seemed like hours, but it couldn’t have you how long I held it there in front been more than five minutes. of my eyes. Soon the picture became blurred, as my own tears fogged up my I finally got up and brushed myself eyes. down. I turned round to see the last of the people leaving the park. There I thought about the last time I had seen was a middle-aged woman with two a leaf of that colour. I thought about small children, she bundled them past, the annoyed yet affectionate sighs we and wrinkled her nose in what seemed could hear from Mum as we entered the to be disgust. I didn’t smell that bad, house, kicking our boots off at the door, did I? I self-consciously sniffed myself. trying to brush the leaves off ourselves Eeuughh. before she saw what a state we were in. The way Dad would smooth down our I looked for somewhere to go, hair trying to rid it of the tangles come somewhere that didn’t bring back from long days at the park. painful memories. My eyes darted around frantically, but all I could see I stared at the big oak tree, and was a perfect blanket of white covering suddenly I saw us, me and Lilly and the ground, the only imperfections Toby, chasing each other round the tree, being my own footprints. It was squealing, making a horrendous noise. strangely beautiful. Inconvenient, yes, I saw the sparkle in our eyes, our smiles but beautiful nonetheless. genuine and bright. My heart ached for

7 It was gradually getting darker, and any just what I needed, and warm too. warmth was being dragged away along Despite the boots, the cold still got with the sun. I looked down at myself, to me and it hit me really hard. I was dressed completely inappropriately for starting to think that I wouldn’t die of this kind of weather. hunger, no, I was sure hypothermia would come first. My jeans had more holes in them than you could count, in fact it would be I was shivering so much that I was much quicker to measure how much hardly able to walk, and now I was material was left. My top was so thin in desperate need of some shelter. I that it was barely doing me any good. I scanned the horizon once more, and suppose the old, beaten up Mackintosh this time spotted something I hadn’t at shielded me from the rain, and usually first. the snow that fell from the sky, but it didn’t serve much purpose on cold In the distance, I saw something that I days. The only thing I could be thankful couldn’t make out. I knew it was brown, for was my wellington boots, they were but that was about it. By this time, my

8 joints were all frozen stiff, but somehow rather some things - sitting in a pile at I forced myself to make my way over to my feet. the little brown object, which turned out to be a gate. To my horror I saw that they were coins! They thought I was a beggar? I hadn’t left the park in so long, I felt a Looking for their money? I was starting rush of excitement as I swung open the to wonder whether they were right. My gate triumphantly to find I was in the eyes brimmed with tears again, and middle of the High Street. I know I had now - more than ever - I wished I could no place here, but all of the shops were be back at the that oak tree with Lilly closed now, and I saw a little doorway and Toby again. I wished I could just go that looked considerably cosier than a back to that Autumn. park bench. With a feeling of uneasiness I settled myself into the shadows of the But the lovely memories of those little doorway. Autumn days were forever blackened by the other memories. The ones I could Then I swiveled my head around to hardly bring myself to think about. see that I was sitting in the doorway of Forshall’s, a jeweller’s. Getting home late that night from a friend’s house. Sirens. The first sign that I wondered how long I could stay there something was wrong. Then turning for; until the morning I supposed. the corner onto my street. Seeing the flames. That was the worst bit of it I awoke to the sound of my own all. The uncertainty. Watching from a stomach groaning and growling for all it distance as four sheet-covered bodies was worth. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, were gently lifted into the back of an but at least I hadn’t slept for very long, ambulance. Surely not all four of them? it still wasn’t completely dark. Since that day I have never stopped running, running away from those But about five minutes later I saw memories. But with each step I took, someone from the newsagent’s across the memories seemed to become more the street opening the shutters. I vivid in my mind, and I know that I’d jumped with the sudden realisation that never be able to forget. it was not night, but in fact very early morning. How could I have slept for so long and still feel the same tired ache in my bones and the same weight in my eyelids that made me want to go back to sleep all over again? But I realised I had to move quickly so as not to be noticed by early morning shoppers. Just as I was about to haul myself off the ground, I noticed something - or 9 On a Cold Winter’s Night Jodie Cunningham Kirkland High School & Community College

We pass several unusual buildings including a roofless memorial chapel and a large stately home on our walks into the landscape. In the workshop afterwards, the writer John Brewster, tells stories of the ways that the Gothic and the supernatural find their way into his work. As we head towards mid-winter, the evening is already getting dark when we light our campfire and toast our marshmallows. The young people start telling ghost stories and go around adding lines to the unfolding narrative. These stories, woven in the murky twilight, may have sparked the following three pieces of writing.

My name is Jodie Cunningham and this put on her wellies shouted bye to her is a story of me and my friend Sarah. Mum and off we went. It took us about Don’t be creeped out. It might not be a 10 minute walk to get to the forest; me that is writing this story! But I can I still felt that I was getting watched, tell you now that when you find out but I didn’t tell Sarah because I didn’t you will be amazed, shocked or having want to worry her. So I kept walking and nightmares for the rest of your life. acted normal.

I was in my room getting ready to go to We finally reached the forest and my friend Sarah’s house, and we were started exploring. In the corner of going to the forest to explore. I got all my eye I spotted a weird figure in the wrapped up because it was freezing. distance that I had never seen before. I I left my house at exactly 7.45am. For couldn’t really make out what it was. I some strange reason I had an urge to gave Sarah a soft nudge on the shoulder take another route. It turned out to and told her to look to her left and to be shorter but much scarier. On the tell me if she noticed anything strange. way I felt like I was getting watched; I She did see it too, so I knew that I had shivers running up my spine and wasn’t hallucinating. We both looked at everything. For some strange reason it each other and said “Let’s check it out.” felt like that the whole way there I was It was quite creepy because we said it at getting watched; it was very strange. the exact same time. Any way we kept on walking and finally reached what we I finally made it to my friend’s house. saw. I rang the door bell. I didn’t hear it. I usually do but it didn’t matter - she It was an old, creepy mansion sort of answered any way. When she came to thing. I said to her “Shall we go inside?” the door she was already to go. She

1 John Brewster, www.writingvoices.com 10 She looked really scared when she last long. All of a sudden the lights went turned to face me. She said “Yes”, but out and the door shut. We tried to force I could tell she was just saying that to it open but it wouldn’t work. It started make herself look brave. To make her to freak us out. Out of nowhere came feel slightly better I offered to go to the a deep voice saying “Why did you come door first and she could follow; she here? Why?” Then on came a light. nodded. So I tiptoed up to the door and there was a door bell. Something in my Before we knew it we were getting head was telling me to run away, but chased. I managed to spot a hole which another thing was telling me to ring it. led outside. We both went in it and The voice in my head that was telling started running for our lives. We were me to ring it was louder than the one still getting chased but we managed telling me to run away, so I decided to to lose the owner of the deep voice by go ahead. the time we got home. I went straight to my bed and hid under the covers. I Before my shaky cold finger managed was thankful that it was over – or so I to touch the shabby old door bell, the thought. creepy creaky door opened itself. This was just the beginning of We both entered. I went first. We everything. The worst was still to realised it wasn’t as scary as we thought come… so we started wandering. That didn’t 11 I woke up in the morning. It was pitch low and quiet. He said “What I have black and I couldn’t see a thing. I tried done to your friend is no concern of to get up but realised that I had been yours. The only thing you have to worry tied to my bed (well, what I thought was about is what I am going to do to you.” my bed). Low lights started to fade in. I could make out some shapes. I turned I started to cry. I begged “Please, please to my left and there was a person. I tried don’t hurt me. I will do whatever you to scream, but I was too scared that I want. Please just don’t hurt me.” couldn’t even move. He replied “If you don’t shut up I will I heard the person say with a faint make you regret ever living.” That shut voice “Jodie, Jodie if can you hear me up. me? It’s Sarah. Where are we? What is happening? I am really scared now? Eventually he brought Sarah back and Please talk to me.” threw her back where she was before. When he left I asked her what he had I replied “I don’t know. I am just as done to her. She never replied. I took scared as you.” a closer look and noticed that she was covered in blood. I started screaming. At that we heard footsteps coming The man rushed through and picked me towards us. Sarah screamed; I felt that up. I begged him not to hurt me but he was only going to make it worse. I had continued to drag me to another room. I to try to stop her. I tried to yell at her sat there for at least an hour. to stop, but she couldn’t hear me. The door opened. There was a tall man, Waiting. Afraid. about 6 foot tall; I don’t think that he liked Sarah screaming. He grabbed her When he came back for me he took me arm, untied her and dragged her out the somewhere else, he tied me to a chair room. She tried to fight against him but and I think he knocked me out. I’m not he was too strong. I was now all alone. sure. I can’t remember anything after I was even more scared than before. I getting strapped to the chair … didn’t think that it was possible to get more frightening but it did. I started to All I can tell you now, is that I am the panic. That didn’t help – it just made one writing this story. But that doesn’t it worse, but I couldn’t stop. I was in mean I am alive. I am actually a ghost shock. I lay there as still as a rock. I tried ‘kid.’ To be more specific, I am a dead to move but couldn’t. school girl. Who knows what happened to me. I will never know myself. I never The man reappeared. I said faintly found out what happened to Sarah - if “Where is my friend, what have you done she survived or was killed, like me. All with her? Is she ok?” I know is that I wander an old house, alone and still very afraid. He answered me - his voice was very 12 The Truth Alex Denholm Balwearie High School

I gazed at my tightly knitted legs get up again. So we are advised to go and looked into the fire. The heat there. They built it because we can’t barely reached my toes, and the rest possibly afford heating, but they don’t of the room was as its usual state - want us dying, for then who would do freezing. I have never lived to see the the vast number of jobs that needed thermometer rise above zero, and I doing? doubt I ever will. I glanced down at my fingers. We are I know I should start moving, may be go told to be constantly aware of frostbite, to the vast cavern that is a few degrees and they issue everyone a pair of thick warmer than the rest of the city. gloves. Once, I forgot to take them to Pneumonia is not a completely unheard work, and I managed to lose the feeling of fate, and it happens most to those of from my fingers. My father only just us who get a day off, and sit down (like managed to save them. me), and soon find they are unable to

Tyndall13 Bruce Monument on Falkland Estate I moved them closer to the fire, and They say it’s an honour, to keep our instead of the instant relief I had Santa safe - why does he get all the yearned for, I only found my fingers credit? What does he ever do to help us? slightly less numb. It’s him that organised the foul system which we have to obey. I’m luckier than some. Since I turned The fire stuttered and died. I should ten, around two years ago, I’ve had a have seen it coming, but I didn’t. job at the ovens. It’s warm there, and I am able to fend off hunger, because I Words are ringing in my head. am entitled to take home the mince pies that have gone stale. Any elf who has Pneumonia is not a completely unheard a stable job gets rations of mince pies, of fate, and it happens most to those which are issued to them, but it’s barely of us who get a day off, and sit down, enough. and soon find they are unable to get up again. We are seen as small, disposable things, only ever part of a massive process. I need to move… They won’t mind if our fingers die, even I need to go… if it leads to starvation - they only really But I want to sit here, staring at remains care about our lives if they diminish in of the fire… large numbers. They send us down the It’s quiet… chimney, not caring if we survive or not, Peaceful… only interested in passing along the I can’t move…. warning to Santa. I can’t think…. So I should just stay here…..

14 Never Trust a Man in a White Van Ruby Winter Balwearie High School

Mary’s the greediest girl you’ll ever meet, With an abnormally dangerous obsession with sweets, Though she would reach her greatest low, And I just thought that you ought to know, Avoid strange men whenever you can,

Especially if they are driving a white van, And Mary knew - her mum had told her so, She was not to accept lifts wherever she may go, But one day while she was walking along, Licking a lollipop, humming a song, A van pulled up out of nowhere, But Mary didn’t notice nor care, And suddenly the rain started to pour, And a strange man opened the door, His sly smile was evil and cunning, Mary would never see it coming, She thought “what a horrible day!”

As the man opened his mouth and started to say, “I have candy, cupcakes and treats galore! Liquorice, candy-floss and more!” And although Mary knew it was bad, She licked her lips at all the things he said that he had, And in this rain she would surely get wet, So what she did, it’s not hard to bet, She climbed into the big white van, And so smiled the clever cunning man, And Mary was taken away with the con, She was going, going, gone.

15 “The whole atmosphere was amazing and it has had a big impact on what I want to do in life as it has shown me that there is a lot more that you can achieve if you put your mind to it.”

Gemma Smith, Kirkland High School & Community College

16 Woodmill17 High School pupils on East Lomond Hill The Big Dig In the Lomond Hills

In September 2014, three day-long creative writing workshops were held for teenagers at the top of East Lomond Hill in Fife. East Lomond Hill is one of the most prominent features in our landscape. It can be seen from all over the area but many local young people have never ventured up it.

Located on and around the summit of the hill are the remains of an iron-age hill fort. Part of this was being excavated through a community-led archaeology Big Dig (another Living Lomonds project). We used this amazing location and the opportunity to get involved in archaeology as inspiration for over eighty teenagers’ outdoor writing experience.

These workshops were successful in different ways, they help to anchor the young people in their landscape, enabling them to ‘read’ their surroundings in a new way, to learn the new creative writing skills that flow from time in the outdoors and to get some physical exercise with their friends.

Untitled Derry McAndrew Kirkland High School & Community College

Suddenly he appeared, this man, from nowhere. He was dazed from the sudden teleportation, dressed in animal pelts, clutching a small rock as a physical reminder of his home. His hair was filthy from the mud and grime and his face was rugged looking, beaten by the harsh winds and freezing rain. His hands looked as rough as sand paper but powerful looking, capable of shifting large rocks to make their homes. He stared at the cars confused by the metallic glass cages that people were clambering into.

18 “You could almost feel the history lying beneath your feet. I learned so much about the hardships of those [who went] before, our ancestors. I appreciate the Lomond Hills, something I’d never even thought about before, so much more now.”

Paighton Menmuir, Kirkland High School & Community College

Yalcin from Woodmill High19 School finds a whetstone on the Big Dig Kirkland High School & Community College pupils

Hill Top Lacie Hamilton Kirkland High School & Community College

From the top of the hill, I could see for miles in all directions. All I could see was greenery as if I was in the middle of the ocean. From the archeological dig it was easy to imagine what it once would have looked like; a massive fort with fortified walls stretching the perimeter, with guardsmen protecting the gate. Whilst we were taking part in the dig we were allowed the chance to be a part of history in the making, which was an amazing experience. The thing I found most interesting were the bones that people were excavating as it gave me the impression that there was once a kitchen in that area where they would have cooked animals. I also liked looking at all the stones we were able to hold that were very cold and bumpy especially as I was told they were used for cooking, which I could imagine aesthetically as it fitted in my hand perfectly. It almost felt like we had travelled back in time being that far away from people yet still close from their remains.

20 Lomond Hills Gemma McDonald Kirkland High School & Community College

The harsh, pale landscape The wind runs through the grass, Streaming through the pane-less window, The weather-beaten hand clutches on a stone, Then takes marrow from the bones; In the future, fragments still remain, Indications of the Iron Age The distant hill The fire is burning still He searches for his food

Lomond Hills Heather Millar Kirkland High School & Community College

Listening Observing Mud Of Nature Dig

Hill Isolated Laughter Light Sunny

21 Archaeology Short Story John Rhinds Kirkland High School & Community College

From the top of the hill anyone could see for miles – this position is especially good for defenders – they could perch on their hilltop and await any invaders. They could watch from the North to the South to the West. The hill, stuck with its back to the ocean, capable of fighting like a cornered rat. Defenders would have a cold sweat from the sun beating down in the cloudless, clear sky and the biting, gusty wind, which roamed the landscape.

The tools and objects that fell from the defenders grasp as the North men invaded, sank into the grassy mud and were swallowed underneath the trampling of children and armoured soldiers.

A soldier living on the mountain was sharpening his sword with a whetstone; the iron blade sang as the stone slid down the blade. As the first shriek echoed over the hill, he sprung up and leapt into action, letting the whetstone become history, just as their homes did.

Lomond Hills Trip Connie Black Kirkland High School & Community College

Despite the howling wind, I eventually warmed up because of all the walking! As well as this, I also warmed to the activities we did as they were all really interesting. My favourite was the archaeological dig, because although I only discovered rocks and stones, I felt as if I was involved in unveiling a piece of the Lomond Hills history. It was good to see and learn about different bits and pieces that had been a part of the Iron Age, for example, the pounding stone that we had to write about. Learning about this area really opened my eyes into realising what a great opportunity this walk was.

22 Glenrothes High School pupils toast marshmallows

Drumdreel Caghal, Luke, Ross and Kieran C Falkland House School

Some of the young people were initially resistant to creative work and one group told us that a day writing poetry was their ‘worst nightmare’! By the end of our day however we had made a collective poem, the first one ever for each of this particular group and one young man, stretched out by the camp-fire said… I’d“ like to stay here forever.”

Bored at first, too freezing to smile Touching dinosaur-scaled trees but not hugging them Standing there was Big Foot Stabbed by an evil gorse Next to a half-eaten apple mushroom The poet swore and Ross smiled Then the dried up pond with a desert floor The Shrek loo sits gently on the hill, Locked like a prison. Axe-looking wood And Caghal was a poet but didn’t know it. Delicious marshmallows by the fire Fire Queen or convicted arsonist? She knows a lot about fires. Digestive marshmallows delicious. The poets of Drumdreel! 23 Love Lewis Ogg Kirkland High School & Community College

Sometimes students moved easily from an exploration of what they love about the objects they collected on their walk to explorations of love in general.

I love you mum, I love you dad, I love you brother, I love you sister, I love you Bill, Daisy, Luke. I love my toys, I love my home, I love my street. I love this street because it is nice and quiet and the neighbours are friendly and kind.

But I don’t like cheese!!! I don’t like cheese because it is smelly and whiffy. I also don’t like chips. They are so crispy and straight. I also don’t like peas – They are so mushy and round and green. I also don’t like fish - It is too scaly, fishy and bready.

But I really like a fish supper with cheese as a side. I LOVE IT

“I like to write because I think it expresses a person. Also it is YOUR work, and nobody else’s is the same as yours.”

Chloe Brown Kirkland High School & Community College pupils in Maspie Den, Falkland

25 Finding and Making Glenrothes High School

These schools worked with Ian Beattie and Allison & Bray turning their finds from the walk into art pieces in clay and paint. The Rites of Spring Created by Chris Powici From a word basket created by

Sometimes, as in the following two poems, it is a specific piece of oddly shaped wood or a group of very brazen sheep that acts as the spur for a poem.

I don’t know a thing about sheep but I know these sheep are crazy to shift their dirty bums and butt heads and square up to each other until one of them’s king of the wee-est hill in Scotland for a minute (at most) and then it all starts again, the ridiculous sheepy machismo of charging and skittering and trying to be top boss as if they had Firetrap jeans and Nike trainers instead of filthy wool coats and muddy hooves and you could catch them tumbling out of Styx on a Saturday night bouncing off the streetlights and baa-ing at the moon.

27 Nature Ciaran O’Neill Kirkland High School & Community College

One day a young boy called Peter went into the forest for a walk. When Peter was there he said, “I love nature.” Peter saw a rabbit, birds and worms. He saw all kinds of creatures. He saw a rainbow signing in the sky.

He climbed a tree to see the view of the forest. He saw everything as a poet’s den. He saw a log at the end which had a dragon’s head. He loved the view. He loved the dragon’s head so much he wished he could take it home.

But it was too heavy. He tried cutting it off with a sharp stick. But the wood was too strong.

So he took a picture.

Then he headed towards the next awesome thing. He wished he could stay forever and ever, for all his life. But he couldn’t. Because he couldn’t, Then there was a bird’s nest with four he was sad. He took more pictures of baby birds. everything he saw. Even a huge curved tree that reached for the sky. He tried to He went home to hot chocolate and climb the tree but he only got a quarter told his mum everything. His mum was of the way. so happy that he had loved his day out. Then he told his dad as soon as he came Then he headed to a tree swing that he in from work. By the time he was done had made when he was young. He went he was so sleepy. He dreamed of his really high. He soared up and up. He day. And, when he went to school he could touch the sky. told everyone he knew, about 10,000 times, over and over again. As he headed back he saw a cocoon opening. He helped it out.

28 Poe-Tree Pupils of Auchmuty High School with Mandy Haggith

Mandy Haggith1, writer, worked with Auchmuty High School. One exercise she shared with us was the creation of a poe-tree. Students wrote words from their walk.

Each of these words/phrases was written on a leaf by one of the participants and laid out in a tree, with a branch for each sense. Each verse is represented by a branch below.

musty bark musty wrinkle rough musty smell rough musty moist rough-edged tree icy feet I can hear river and wind trampling on leaves breeze crunching swaying trees cold air breeze in the trees the crisp bark of the birch breaths overhead crisp bark leaves move in the wind prick cold air wind stick I can see nature moss on the ground sour brambles can be seen all around tastes of peach monkey puzzle the running river the feel on your tongue the nature of itself manifest the quiet waterfall bitter bite jumbled up dinosaurs trickling gently in the distance the taste of bewildered bark trees running water bitter towering running river cress branches water leaves leaves brambles dirt dirt and wood exhilarating

1 Mandy Haggith, http://mandyhaggith.worldforests.org 29 Mesostic Poems1 Woodmill High School S1 Pupils

Twisting Long aRound greEn Each And othEr Very diffErent Wild Sizes twIsting Lady Ethan Paterson faLcon Over Watching Bees David Brown makE honEy Sweet Buzzing littlE Rebecca Newton pEsts

willOw Following tRee roAds branChes Leading to the Have royal Court Always tRailed Of arounD falklaNd

Eilidh McDonald Fraser Low

1 A mesostic poem is made up of a central word as the spine, with other words branching off to create a small yet powerful ‘plant’ like poem.

30 Acknowledgements

We would like to extend a very big thank you for the positive input and enthusiasm of teachers, learning support staff and community workers from Falkland House School, Auchmuty, Woodmill, Kinross, Glenrothes, Kirkland, Buckhaven, Leven, Balwearie, Bell Baxter, and Dunfermline High Schools.

Secondly we send heartfelt appreciation to the artists and writers Mandy Haggith, Chris Powici, John Brewster, Ken Cockburn, Allison & Bray and Iain Beattie.

A final word of gratitude to the staff and community around the Centre for Stewardship in Falkland, the Living Lomonds Team and to our funders the Heritage Lottery Fund, Fife Council, Opportunities Fife, the Scottish Book Trust and the Ronald Duncan Literary Foundation without whom this project would not have been possible.

Brought to you by:

The Living Lomonds Landscape Partnership, an association of organisations in Fife and Perth & Kinross with lead partner Fife Coast & Countryside Trust.

Our aim is to re-connect people with the living legacy of the Lomond and Benarty Hills through a range of community based activities, volunteering opportunities and projects. To find out more go towww.livinglomonds.org.uk

Editing and project management by Tara O’Leary

Design, cover and internal illustrations by Claire Hubbard www.emseeitch.com

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