I am the damp dank brown undergrowth

I am the palette of spent life

I am the tangle of the dead of winter

I am the lifeless leaves underfoot

I am the fragrant stench of decay

I am the life that begins in death

I am the humus of ending and beginning

I am the forest left to the wheel

I am the labyrinth ever turning

SoulCollage® is the process, developed by Seena B. Frost, of creating a deck of collaged cards from found images—cards that are arranged in suits for the primary purpose of self-exploration and self-acceptance. SoulCollage® cards are made from original purchased art (e.g., art published in magazines, calendars, books, cards, etc.) and personal materials (e.g., photos). SoulCollage cards are not to be sold, traded, or bartered and are to be reproduced only for the personal use of the maker of the card.

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THIRD PLACE

I am quite chuffed to have been placed 3rd in the Nature/Green category of the Scotblogs Awards. My companions in the Top 5 are a pretty impressive bunch!

Most interesting thoughts around *being categorised* since I have never been able to squash this blog into one of those niches that bloggers are continually told they should. Perhaps I have organically and naturally grown this blog into a niche without worrying to much about it. Anyway, I like the distinction and I feel like I have won an Oscar *giggle*

Thank you to everyone who voted for me, there is nothing like a wee ego boost to fire up my typing finger!

***Update***

All the categories of the Scotblogs Awards have now been announced, and my blog has also been included in the following:

SIXTEEN

FIFTY ONE

I think the nicest part for me was the discovery that I did very well in the reader vote - after all having readers is about the best mark of a good blog you can get. I was number 13 out of around 140 blogs - can't argue with that!

Getting some attention in a poll doesn't get the posts written tho...

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I take it as my cue to get out into the landscape with the Greyhound and see if I can bring something new home.

We choose our favourite route and find some Snowdrops poking up from the dank, brown, dead undergrowth.

I smile at the timing, given my earlier thoughts.

We pause to take in the sunset - and to consider how much light we have left to get us to the Crow Tree and back... but then walking in the dark only means I cannot see the path...

A Heron stalks amongst the long grasses and stands like a statue as we pass by. I wonder what she is hunting as the frost begins to bite.

The Greyhound leads the way as we climb the ridge - he is not dominating or pulling, he is just being a big dog with a long spine and long legs. He is animated by the air, scenting this and sensing that. Each day he tells me a different story about each section of the path and leaves me guessing about what passed most recently.

And then we stop, ears alert, as something thunders uphill amongst the gorse. We do not see a thing but we know, from the tracks and signs we have seen, that we have disturbed Roe Deer. We try to get to the top of the ridge to catch a glimpse of them, but there is nothing to see except the weight of our breath on the air.

We walk on eyes scraping the landscape, always hoping for the sight of a hare. At the edge of the gorse there is an unfamiliar shape, something sits that is not usually there. I squint in the failing light and know it is animal because I have come to know this landscape as my second nature.

I raise my camera and take a photo and I praise my camera, for as rubbish as it is in the failing light, it is clever enough to zoom me in on a blurry fox. I am excited as the fox remains sitting, watching. I know there are foxes here as I have been seeing their signs for months, but these rural foxes are not as easy to glimpse as the ones I knew in my Edinburgh garden... The Greyhound and I continue, slowly, but the fox is wise and slinks off into the gorse with a flick of it's bushy white-tipped tail.

The cold air is hardening things under our feet and we do not pause for long at the Crow Tree. Just as we turn, something moves in the field adjacent to the path. Hare must have watched us, crouching, unseen, as we walked out past it. Hare is taking no chances and launches itself across the field and out of sight as we retrace our steps.

As if we have not seen enough, a pair of Buzzards glide on the last breaths of the day. There is more yet as we leave the shadow of the gorse and the Full Wolf Moon demands an audience.

Last, but not least, a Field Vole scuttles across our path and disappears into a neatly nibbled hole in the grasses.

We walk on.

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I struggle to reconcile my expectations of this house, and living here, with the reality we are faced with. I try so very hard not to feel trapped and hopeless about this reality, this situation we were tricked into buying, and which we cannot easily free ourselves from. I feel angry that Fife Council have a postcode lottery regarding the services that deal with this type of issue, and that our postcode is not one of the lucky ones. I feel angry that the boundaries of our home can so easily be invaded without accountability for the trespass.

I hear the platitudes we are so often fed, often from our own minds, about how we should be...

• Rise above it all
• Live in the moment
• Try to be positive
• Live and let live
• You need to relax
• Yadayada bullshit crapcrap

If I could rise above it all, I would put on my Stepfordian fake wings and fly.

Living in the moment is a Nice idea, but the truth is that some moments are black and shitty and ugly. We have to live in those moments too, experience those uncomfortable things that others subject us to, and feel those crappy unpleasant emotions.

How can I be positive about anything when my home is randomly not my own, my sanctuary is invaded by someone else's bad behaviour, my sleep is undisturbed only at the mercy of others? Fuck positive thinking, it is enough that each day I try to hold onto sanity and sometimes succeed. It is enough that I string words together or raise a camera and try to capture my vision of the world - and that my visions of the world are not devoid of beauty. If I'm feeling negative that's just how it is, your discomfort is yours to deal with.

At what point in the live and let live equation do *I* get the freedom to live?

Oh yeah, and you are right - I really fucking do need to relax. That's exactly my point. That's exactly what I am trying to do when I am fast asleep in my bed, or curled up under a blanket reading, or lying flat on the floor trying to meditate. You try doing any of these things when someone is force feeding noise into your private world and come back to me with your results.

The Buzzard soars above me and I watch in awe. I think about the people who see a Buzzard and express disappointment that it is "just a Buzzard" because it is no longer a rarity. I think about how Buzzards are a success story, a species who returned from the brink and I enjoy the spectacle as they paint the wind.

I live in these moments.

I try to believe that walking in the dark only means I can't yet see the path to freedom.

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First Feet Fragment Frost

Crisp White

Crunching

Forth Fog

Shields Shores

Red Sky Warning

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