A more unconventional kind of find...? Find!

You don't get a blog from me in ages then just like buses, three come along at once!

The internet is a brilliant tool for any Reading Detective, and it also means that many "finds" can be instantly accessed by readers.

This is certainly true of of my next find, which, I have to confess, as finds go is slightly different.

It isn't a book, or a pamphlet, and it isn't a travel guide or a diary.

It IS more poetry... but maybe not in the expected sense.

It isn't just one poem, but a collection of 12 poems... all of which are carved into stone and  incorporated into walls and stiles, or planted like milestones along the route of footpath walk in Kirkby Stephen! I did say it was more of an unconventional kind of find!

The 12 short poems look at a year in the life of a fellside farmer, with each month's poem and carving portraying some of the activities which a farmer will carry out in that particular month.

As the walker follows the route which loops from Stenkrith near Kirkby Stephen to Hartley and back, they can examine the farming calendar from lambing to hedge-laying and hay-making to harvest, through these evocative little poems.

Whilst they are very brief these poems speak volumes, and, an extra dimension can also be added to a the walk, as rubbings can be taken from the stones, using paper and a wax crayon - just like doing a brass rubbing.

The poems have all been written by Meg Peacocke, a published and acclaimed poet, who also happens to live on a Cumbrian hill farm.

Meg was born in 1930 and grew up in South Devon. She read English at Oxford, after which she taught, travelled, got married, had four children, trained in counselling and worked in a children's cancer unit, then moved north to Cumbria where she writes and also tutors in poetry.

Meg has had 3 poetry collections published and a couple of years ago, she was awarded the prestigious Cholmondeley Award by the Society of Authors for 'distinction in poetry' - previous recipients include Norman Nicholson (another great Cumbrian poet!), Philip Larkin, Seamus Heaney and Derek Walcott.

The Poetry Path was first suggested by Dick Capel of East Cumbria Countryside Project as a way of celebrating the landscape of the Eden Valley, after the 2001 Foot & Mouth epidemic highlighted the link between traditional farming and the county's landscape and wildlife.

Through history, wool, sheep farming, and hill farmers have been vital to Cumbria's economic and geographic landscape and have made it what it is today.

Nowadays the farmers have vital roles as custodians of the natural environment combined with contributing to the country's economy and food production.

Meg's poems succinctly convey a strong sense of place bound up with the economic and environmental importance of farming.

Her immensely evocative descriptive powers can be seen, for example, in the poem for June:

Light drops like honey from branch to branch. Elders

balance their dishes of cream,

while fledgelings try small quivery leaps, testing

the buoyancy of the air.

Isn't that just wonderful?!

Her art is equally demonstrated in August's poem:

Crabapples tart on the tongue,

Hazelnuts milky,

Rosehips cool in the hand,

Thistledown silky.

Squirrel is speaking his mind.

Knapweed purples the banks.

For touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing

I give thanks.

I have actually walked this footpath myself and it is a real delight in every sense...and for every sense. I would encourage anyone who finds themselves in the area to do it, and Mary and I have plans to arrange a Reading Group visit there...if it ever stops raining that is!

Luckily for anyone who wants to read the poems and get a feel for the walk without getting wet (!) or travelling all the way up to Cumbria, the guide to the walk can be viewed online and downloaded from: http://www.eccp.org.uk/images/great-days-out/PoetryPath2.pdf

This is a photo of one of the poems on the walk.

 

2006_0829Image0087.JPGIt is the poem for May, and reads:

Penned in a huddle, the great tups

are clints of panting stone. The shepherd lifts

a sideways glance from the labour

of dagging tails. His hands are seamed with muck

and the sweat runs into his eyes.

Above us, a silent plane has needled

the clear blue. Paling behind it

a crimped double strand of wool unravels.

 

    

 

30 August 2009 from Helen

2 Comments

Hi Helen,
Thanks for sharing this.
What a wonderful way to celebrate your county!
I'm many miles away, but will have to head for Kirkby Stephen now .....
Best wishes from distant Kent - Julia.

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