Blogiversary…now we are 2!

Today I settled down to do some much overdue writing for this blog when I noticed there was something familiar about the date.  After a bit of embarrassed rummaging I found that yes indeed, today is the second anniversary of The Birds In The Meadow.

It’s so easy for me to let dates like that go by,  if I know what day it is at all I consider that good going. I missed the first anniversary and the fact that I’ve made it this far without celebrating seems wrong, so I’ve decided to have a whole week of festivities!

But before I write any more about that I’m going to think about these two years past and why blogging, crafting and this site mean so much to me.

To me, this site is…

• A diary. I never realised just how much blogging would become a record of some of the best bits of my life. I don’t write about much personal stuff here, but looking back over what I’ve written I see that this blog has grown into a living souvenir of big adventures, small insights and those ephemeral little things spotted along the way. Just looking back over these two years in the blog is often enough to keep me going when life feels rough.
• An open window. Through writing here I’ve also been given the chance to enter the insightful, funny, imaginative inner worlds of other people who write their own blogs. Some of these discoveries have been truly inspirational in ways that go beyond anything I could write here, and to those whose blogs I read I have to say a really big thank you for letting me in. Your candour, humour and warmth make being stuck behind a computer for several hours a day a far more rewarding experience, and encourages me with my own efforts.
• An apprenticeship. Since I opened the shop I’ve watched my practical crafting skills go from strength to strength. The imagination and diligence it takes to ensure that everything is robustly made and true to my recycled, repurposed or vintage ideal has tested my patience, tenacity and occasionally the will to live, but it’s been worth it just to know that what I make does not, as the old chestnut goes, cost the earth. What’s even better is knowing that there are people out there who care about these things as much as I do, and are prepared to take a chance on ordering from a small scale designer like me.
• A place of learning. I’m no wildlife expert; I have curiosity and a keen eye, and these things alone have got me a long way in the past. As a direct result of writing here and reading other nature blogs, my curiosity had become voracious and I realise with each passing day how little I know but want to know. I’ve learned more about insects and wildflowers in these past two years than I probably learned in the lifetime that went before,  but I’ve barely scratched the surface. I read field guides as if they were novels and devour literature on local wildlife wherever I go, but I’m still hungry. The learning I should have started in childhood only really got into full swing quite recently, and as direct result of researching stuff to write about here, I’m musing very tentitavely on taking some higher education.

In honour of these things and many more, I’d like to offer you a generous slice of cake, a glass of whatever takes your fancy and a toast to all the good things that blogging and the internet can bring. Remind me of some more! What are you raising that glass to?

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Jewels in the dirt

A couple of weekends ago I was walking along a muddy, tyre churned track looking at nothing much other than where to put my feet first so as not to slip over, when a chunk of dirt began to move. An iridescent pebble with legs was struggling faintly in the sticky mud. I stooped over to find a dor beetle, relative of the scarabs of ancient Egypt looking feeble and disorientated, legs flailing ineffectively.

A few metres further along I found a whole clump of them, royal purple glinting on their backs as they floundered together in the watery mud. I looked up along the track and saw to my astonishment that the ground for quite a considerable distance was strewn with living jewels and glittering carcasses where previous walkers had ploughed through unnoticing.

These hapless creatures had chosen the soft earth of the track as an ideal hibernating ground, and dug themselves in. Now weekend walkers and off road motorbike riders were churning them up again in their thousands. I stood aghast as I watched these simple animals attempting to re-bury themselves in the very same place that they’d just been dug out from, essentially a busy weekend road. How many will be left by the end of winter? These things are a dime a dozen but still…

I’ve been flabbergasted by this spectacle ever since, and although I don’t subscribe to the old chestnut of natures kindness (spend under 30 seconds watching a hunting wasp or spider and you will lose your illusions pretty damn fast) the profligate wastefulness and apparent stupidity of the natural world often troubles my peace of mind. Those dor beetles would diligently re bury themselves in their chosen “ideal” hibernating ground until not a single one was left.

If those beetles learned nothing, they taught me something. The old adage “keep doing what you always did and you’ll keep getting what you always got” suddenly seems a bit more important than I ever imagined.

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