On The Edge: I’m Offering A Mixed Bag And Being Nowty

Today’s images are linked by featuring edges of various types. I never saw the wonderfully scenic, 300 year old Sycamore Gap tree which has been felled this week by vandals with a chainsaw, but I recently encountered the word ‘solastalgia’ which expresses the shock of the thousands of people who loved this tree. Along similar lines to nostalgia, solastalgia is the distress we feel when much-loved surroundings are altered and we are powerless to do anything about it. It’s a form of homesickness where we are at home, but sick because our home is no longer the same.

In contrast, my fallen tree with splintered edges is an unsung one. I fully feel the outrage about Sycamore Gap, but while it was leading the headlines, the UK’s State of Nature Report 2023 was quietly published, with little attention paid to its reminder that ‘the UK is now one of the most nature-depleted countries on Earth.’

So if you sense melancholy in some of the edges I have chosen for this week’s challenge, give me a pass. I promise there will be some cheery ones too.

In an ideal world, I would rather use my blog to celebrate than condemn. When I go to flower shows, of course I see things I do not like, but I typically share the parts that give me pleasure. As I am feeling nowty, I’m going to break my rule.

While this garden had some splendid touches, looking back, all I remember is being in a crowd of polite people trying to peer into it in turn from a few small gaps around the edges. A garden we could not enter, like so many of today’s show gardens, it struck me as a corporate garden, designed for corporate reasons. The show is one I enjoy, but it had been a long journey from home, had not been cheap to enter, and the show gardens were screened by officials trying to make sure nobody stepped in the wrong place. Supposed, in the main, to be resilient gardens, they were not considered visitor-proof.

In contrast, the show garden I remember most fondly from 2023 is one designed to promote a mental health charity at the more local Southport Flower Show. Everyone was welcome to go in and mingle, to sit down if they could find a free seat, and even to lounge on a modern four poster bed. I’ll include a picture in a future post.

This is the edge of the headstone on Sylvia Plath’s grave which is in the graveyard of a small, high village, Heptonstall, on the edge of moorland. The poet’s name has been partially scratched off and plastic biros have been left (there were several in the grave itself). She would need paper too, but the wet climate of the north forbade that. Her grave seemed to say more about fame than about her – Shakespeare’s ‘Blest be the man that spares these stones’ seemed prescient.

Half-hidden in the garden of a row of terraces nearby, an elderly women had watched in silence as we passed, not responding to our nod. She knew where we were going and I wondered if she thought we might intend the grave harm. Seeing her, I suddenly imagined that Sylvia had not died, but had withdrawn and was watching the world from the edge, writing for her own satisfaction.

Let’s move on. You (and I) have made it through my nowty section and I hope you’ll enjoy the rest. The next few show Hebden Bridge in Yorkshire, a quirky northern town known for its ability to attract creative people. Its gardens on the edge of the pavement put all the alley-style show gardens I’ve ever seen in the shade.

Here’s the edge of a house overlooking a river. I find I can’t pinpoint what makes it look stylish. Perhaps the feeling of the present coexisting with another time – several different times?

Each house has some mark of creativity, of thinking outside the box, such as this doorstep made from broken tiles.

It would have been so easy to share more edges from Hebden Bridge, but I’m saving the rest for a rainy day.

On second thoughts, just one more, looking over the edge to the other side of the valley.

Now something completely different: the plant version of a colony of sunbathing seals. The edge connection? Well, some of the edges are a bit prickly. Does that count?

Planting flowers in wellington boots has long been a craze, but these are some of the best I’ve seen and I liked the red, white and blue. I don’t know how long they’ll last, but while they do, they’re a great way to jazz up the edge of a shop. My apologies to those who’d have rather seen the sweeties!

This is the splendid edge of a wooden harvest-themed plaque. Did you spot the sleeping mouse? It’ll grant you it’s tricky if you’re reading on a phone.

Next, a modern water feature with the pretty little geraniums.

I should perhaps have saved my last for a post of its own as it’s very atmospheric, but the eeriness adds to my mixed bag and in a way, it brings us full circle. Sun flooding in from the edge of misty woodland helps me understand why ancient Britons saw magic everywhere.

You might not see the same thing, but I see a giant, gowned lady of the woods, arms outstretched, and the awe of the natural world. This was an ordinary afternoon, in an ordinary wood, in an ordinary town, and yet…