FOXGLOVES

Foxgloves and pine trees - multiple exposure art photo.

 

In the meadow of my house there stands a rocky outcrop of stones, piled one on top of another so as to create a hillock where the grass has grown over all. I love to go there. I sit on the highest point of the highest stone to look over the valley, and to listen to the sounds of the wind in the pine tree to the left of the hillock. Sometimes I would go there to talk to the wind, and to any faeries that might be about. 
Come summer, the place is swaying in a sea of foxgloves. 

Saturday, July 15, 1876

FOXGLOVES AND FAIRIES

by James Britten, in The Gardeners' Chronicle 

“In Cheshire the plant is called ‘Fairies’ Petticoat,’ and in East Anglia ‘Fairy-thimble;’ in the North of England ‘Witches’-thimble,’ and in Ireland its fairy names are numerous, eg., ‘Fairy-cap,’ ‘Fairy-bell,’ ‘Fairy-weed,’ ‘Fairy-glove’ - the last being of course an exact equivalent of ‘Folk’s-glove.’ A writer in Science Gossip for 1870 says: ‘Its flowers are believed to form the caps of a certain class of sprites belonging to the order of Puck - a very rural, cattle-loving, mischief-breeding set of fairies.’ The country people, he says, used to believe that each plant of Digitalis was a fairy home, and that the little creatures used to scuttle into the bells, thus gloving themselves from observation when a passer-by disturbed their revels. The fairy-herb keeps its stem bent, as a salut to any supernatural being that should pass, and also from the weight of so many nightly gambollers amongst its bells. The flowers that have fallen from its stem are the discarded caps and clothing of last night’s revellers. ”
A tree struck by lightening and a magical area with foxgloves - the flower of the fairies.
Foxglove flowers and fairy magic.
Foxgloves in the sky with clouds.
A patch of foxgloves where the fairies live.
Multiple exposures - flowers, trees and sky. Amazing spaces.
A fairy dell in my backyard where the foxgloves grow.
A clover flower, a pine tree and a cloud.
Foxgloves in growing from the sky.
“and away every one of the fairies scampered off as hard as they could, concealing themselves under the green leaves of the lusmore, where, if their little red caps should happen to peep out, they would only look like its crimson bells... ”
— W. B. YEATS
Moss growing on rocks in a fairy dell.

BIRD'S NEST

A beautiful fallen bird's nest made of feathers and hay.
A bird's nest made of feathers in my room.

 

While journeying in my backyard, I happened upon a fallen nest. It lay upside down under the laurel tree. I picked it up and took it home, placing it on the sill of my window. Nestled in it were an odd and ever-changing clutch of items: speckled and polished stones; some blue river glass; a feather, or two, added to the mix; and once I placed there a bit of soft possum fur, given to me as a child by an elder lady who wore her artworks as pins on her hat and sweaters.

ELEMENTS:

1. Many many feathers:

- white downy ones
- speckled grey ones
- mangy grey ones
- one black feather

2. Bird poop and supple pine sticks.

3. Bits of straw, golden and with the wheat seeds intact.

4. A strand of blue string.

5. A skein of sheep's wool.

6. A few strands of my long brown hair.

GOOD-NATURED:

ways to help a bird build a nest

1. Have more trees.

2. Have more of everything else too: shrubs, grasses, and flowers.

3. Stop using pesticides.

4. Let twigs fall as they may.

5. Provide a source of water, and a mud puddle or two.

6. Place any loose hairs, or pet furs into rose bushes, or in the bark of trees.

7. Make your yard a safe-haven from predators. 

It was a marvel to look at - this nest. Such a peculiar beauty - all bundled and twiggled together out of these bits of straw and those pieces of pine. I wondered at the creative ability of the bird who built it, then at the abilities of all birds in general; they who build the nests of such elegant design, like the swallow or the hummingbird. Nests that are only used for approximately a moon cycle or two. Nature is incredible.

And then I saw a small glint of gold light reflected from a few of my own hairs, and I was delighted to realise that a part of myself, carelessly discarded out my bedroom window, had found its way into the outer world - woven into the very fabric of the nest. 

 

A bird's nest sitting on my windowsill.