I Went Outside & Also To The Cinema.
[Not pottery, but the little things that help]
It’s February and I have been sort of hibernating, hiding in my house with occasional forays to the studio and down to the compost heap, while everything goes horribly on as it seems to do these days; the horror, the abuse of power, the fascism, and the never ending grey rain and storms (how many weeks now, six? seven?).
I do this hiding and feeling guilty about it every January and yet, every year, it still comes as a surprise to me. It takes a long time to wash the NEW YEAR NEW YOU conditioning out of the old noggin. I thought about writing something, sat down to write something, many many times, only for some part of my brain to go ‘but really, what’s the point? Oooo look, there’s some knitting you could be getting on with…’
Today I told brain to shut up because yesterday I did two small but fulfilling things, and I think we all need to do that from time to time. I certainly felt happier yesterday evening (against the general background of existential angst) than I have for a long time, though wierdly one of the things I did was to watch a film which I thought when I went in was about grief.
Photo by Andrey Strizhkov on Unsplash
I went to a late matinee of H is for Hawk at our cool little local indy cinema with my friend L. We had both loved the book and the trailer suggested it would be a good adaptation, yet it’s always a concern that it won’t work or some disappointment will follow (the last film we went to involved a long walk by the sea, yes that one).
H is for Hawk does work, it is beautifully written and filmed, expertly cast, and the music is just right. Claire Foy acts through almost the whole film with a goshawk on her arm. I can’t imagine doing either let alone both at once. We totally believe Foy (who is a truly amazing actor) is Helen in her grief and love for her father, in her love for her hawk Mabel and her increasing detachment from everyone as she become increasingly depressed. And I really loved Helen’s friend Christina (Denise Gough) who never stopped knocking on the door, never stopped looking out for her the whole time. We all need someone like that.
The on screen relationship between Helen and her Dad (Brendan Gleeson) is beautiful, the bond between father and grown up daughter so well played. I recognise the silly voices, in jokes and common interests - and her concern as he refuses to ‘slow down’ - in my relationship with my own Dad, who is still with us and has slowed down, though is contantly reminding us it’s pretty much against his will.
There are some astonishing, BBC wildlife documentary worthy, shots of the hawk in flight and hunting, of gorgeous landscapes of reedbeds rattling in the wind, of sunlight through naked winter trees and Cambridge looking Cambridge-y (I live just outsuide Oxford so can’t be too fulsome…haha).
As we came out I realised this film is about grief, but also about all kinds of love. I felt quite tearful at the finish and that I immediately wanted to see it again, which happens so very rarely with films these days.
Yesterday afternoon, before the dark comfort of the cinema, there was a miracle of sunlight. It rolled round the garden at tree level as it does in the winter and at half past one I had to close a curtain so I could finish my short office day without the glare. Thirty minutes later, email and Teams closed down, I dithered about a walk and decided the accompanying change of clothes was too much faff, an hour in the garden would do me just as much good. It’s tidying season so at least I get to use the snow shovel despite the lack of snow.
I don’t call myself a proper gardener, I have no real idea when things should be ‘in’ or what to prune when. I’m slapdash at best and especially when tidying I can find things so fascinating I have to stop working to look them up or just stare at them for a while.
We have a lot of rotting logs about the garden for wildlife/not being that bothered about “mess” reasons. I love a chunk of tree almost as much as a whole tree, we have some chunks which are now very rotten and covered in beautiful emerald green moss and spooky wood/jelly ear fungus which I honestly find a Bit Creepy, too creepy to actually touch it with my hand anyway.
On the forsythia just next door to the ears is an even more interesting knobbly gall. As usual when I see a cool shape I wonder if it could become a pot? (answer - more than likely if I remember to write it down). When I look further into this bush there are lots of galls, big and small. I found out they are ‘forsythia knot galls’, that it’s still not really known what causes them; bacteria, fungus or damage, there’s no consensus. The only cure is amputation. I think this bush can take it though, it likes to block the path as early in spring as possible so is reasonably healthy apart from the knobbles.
Then there was this miniature landscape. Log, leaflitter, last year’s seed heads, a hiding ladybird and bright green liverwort (not sure, but it satisfyingly starts with ‘L’ too).
It made me feel a bit of wonder all within a metre of our back door, you really don’t have to go far - or fly a hawk - to get close to nature.
