Nature whispers....

Small corners, quiet truths

Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons…

On this recent van trip I spent much of my time seeking out small corners of nature. Finding spaces that humans don’t really inhabit because they don’t see them. I know this because I have watched folk follow well trodden pathways failing to look left or right. I don’t like sharing my walk with other folk with the exception of my husband who gets my obsession with small corners and can often be found supporting me as I try and clamber up a rock face to get to one. I am hugely respectful of these spaces that humans may well not have trodden before. I don’t take anything away and I am very careful where I put my feet. I find a rock or a log to sit on and stay very still aware that my presence has the capacity to disturb the natural flow of life in these small spaces.

The longer I sit the more I see. After some time the wildlife decides I am not a threat and they go about their normal business. At this time of year birds are flying in and out of hidden nests and tadpoles scramble around on dry riverbeds after an extraordinary long dry spell in the west of Scotland. Flying insects stop diving into the long grass for protection and just go about harvesting their food.

Despite all this life there is a stillness and quietness to these small corners of the natural world that is deeply captivating. Being present in these spaces releases my inner child and I marvel all over again at the beauty of the natural world. As a child I used to disappear during family walks seeking out spaces just for me so nothing has really changed. However, now I am much more aware of what I am looking at having spent most of my adult life with my head in various natural world ID books. Even so, there is still much I don’t know and there lies the joy - spotting a plant that I haven’t seen before, maybe because I have failed to notice it.

We escape the island we call home at some of the busiest times and retreat to Kintyre and park up in small spaces and spend time wandering and noticing. On the west coast of Kintyre the verges and hedgerows spill onto the shore making for the most beautiful of all small corners. They take my breath away, if I am truly honest. The red campion tumbles down the hillside to meet the thrift blowing on the sea breezes. The wild yellow irises stand tall among the wild grasses and the sea campion stretches out of crevices seeking the light. It is all just so beautifully enchanting and you can not fail to be touched deeply.

I have one small corner of the coastline that I visit time and time again and now have a well worn rock to sit on with my sketchbook and cuppa. The longer I sit the more the wee corner offers up and I am filled with an authentic sense of gratitude that I am able to bear witness to such spellbinding moments.

It is not all beautiful though. The west coast of Kintyre is battered by big storms and with these come the rubbish that we humans dump in the sea in the hope of never seeing again. But we do see it and it is heartbreaking. In a time when there is a big conservation push on looking after our seas and oceans it is just so immediate that it is impossible to ignore it. One of the worst issues lies with the fishing industry who really need to do much better than they do at retrieving their old nets and damaged ropes and disposing of them in a better way. We bag up as much litter as we can and dispose of it in the correct bins and we encounter them along a stretch of coastline but we really shouldn’t have to do that at all. The other very common item is plastic milk cartons and perhaps the worst of the lot is plastic bags that when in the sea look like edible sea creatures. I think we all know how that story ends.

So as these gentle quiet corners of the shore whisper I believe they are telling us humans to have more respect and to do much, much better. These corners want a new story to begin and one where humans finally understand that we are part of the natural world not removed from it and certainly not better than it.

While we wait for that day to come I will continue to seek out these quiet, gentle corners and treat them with the enormous respect they require and deserve. I often talk about ‘getting lost in Kintyre’ and some of my best art is created in these wee corners. Now you know where to find me but enter quietly please….. I will make you a wee cuppa.

Until next time, Fiona