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 Fife 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, Glenrothes, Kirkland, Buckhaven, Leven, Balwearie, Bell Baxter and Dunfermline 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, Glenrothes High School 5 What Wood Becomes Created by Chris Powici, Poet1 From a word basket created by Dunfermline High School 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 Balwearie High School 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.