Wildly Returning

Birds, plants and a beautiful Beltane after gallivanting around England and Ireland.

The month of April was a busy one, one where I lacked mental clarity and moved rather quickly. Craft markets, indie film screenings, a trip to Ireland for work, seeing family in Hampshire before landing back in Cornwall at the end of the month. It took me about a week to ground myself and find my feet again after travelling all over the UK for two weeks. Ireland was a beautiful, non stop trip. I was photographing Finn Lough, a luxury hideaway just above Enniskellin on the Lower Loch Erne. (you can see more of this trip here ) I think talking about my time there would take a whole other post entirely.

I’d like to instead write about coming home and the entrance into the light half of the year on Beltane. Cornwall is awake after a long winter slumber. Early spring in March and April there is a slow awakening, the one eye open kind to see what might have changed in the months gone by. But in May both eyes opened wide.

Narrow paths are lined with fragrant alexanders and blossoming Hawthorne, the sun baked soil beneath bare feet is a welcomed feeling after relying on barefoot boots in the colder months. Three cornered leek and wild garlic is blooming as their season draws to a close. I’ve spotted black bird egg shells beneath nests, the unnatural speckled turquoise against mossy earth is unmissable. I wonder if they hatched or more likely were found by a hungry magpie as it seemed like the shell was broken inwards.

There have been so many moments jotted down in notes I found worth remembering. Warm evenings, warm sand, bare feet, cool soil, dappled light beneath trees in parks and buns with lemon curd and vanilla cream. Bird nests filled with hungry chicks, the first elderflower in bloom. Longer days, longer evenings, indoor fires have become outdoor ones, stews are light and filled with herbs from the pots outside- sage, mint, rosemary, thyme.

Migrating birds are returning- the swifts, swallows and house martins begin their graceful summer dances through dawn to dusk. They are the realest, most tangible reminder of where we are in the year. They made it from Africa to the UK for the warmer weather, and we get to enjoy their company as they swoop across farmlands and gorse covered cliffs until Autumn when they part again.

Swathes of bluebells now line the shady patches of woodland on the moors and inland Cornwall. Trees are lit with green again, pollen and blossom drifts through the air like spring snow. You over hear conversations about hayfever in cafes, about lovers, about the sunshine, tourists, exams, about cakes and lunch and the evening plans.

There’s the first lot of rhubarb from my Mum’s allotment lacto fermenting in the kitchen in the tall jar chickpeas once came in. Numerous discussions of what we’ll do with it, a chutney? a jam? a syrup? We are yet to decide. How wonderful that our conversations consist of topics on what to do with the fermenting rhubarb.

The daffodils are almost entirely gone, but cow parsley sings in Cornish hedgerows that are coming alive with the warmth. The bees, the butterflies. Penny wort and plantains, sorrel and sea beet line the cobbled walls, bluebells hang their heads in the afternoon heat. Each petal a perfectly curled skirt for a fae small enough.

I’ve been watching the seals in the cove, rolling around in gentle swell, yawning, stretching- forever somewhere between people and puppies. Getting distracted by nearby nesting fulmars and a curious whimbrel.

Sunsets attract bigger audiences, they photograph themselves and their dogs in the same spot before walking down the dunes. So do we. Little things, ripples, everywhere. Human things, sunset watching, ice cream eating, the freezers in supermarkets become empty with sudden warmer days. Towns are busier, our walks get earlier to enjoy the stillness before people slowly amble down at around the usual 10am.

I enjoy that my writing mostly consists of things I’ve noticed with a few extra words in between. It’s simple, and I hope it encourages you to notice those smaller things too.

Happy (belated) Beltane.