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…
Susan Rushton 
Wonderful images.
Shame on those clueless vandals. They will be forever reviled for their despicable destruction. And for what?!?!
They must have assumed they had justification, but everyone else is left baffled. A lesson, perhaps, that no one person (or small group of people with extreme views) should make decisions that change life for everyone, no matter how right they think they are.
Amen!!
Absolutely LOVE your observations and musings Miss Susan. Can’t wait to see you again stateside!
It’s very sweet of you to say so.
Finally figured out how to access my profile on this site. Whew! 😉
What’s the point of a garden being on display to the public if no-one is allowed to go in to look round and admire? It’s as bad as visiting a stately home but not being allowed to take photos, something which really annoys me 😦
As for the Sycamore Gap tree, I hate to see the destruction of any tree especially through mindless vandalism, but this one was only so well known because of it being in the Robin Hood film – if it wasn’t for that it would have been just another tree so would people have still made such a fuss about it? I doubt it.
Forgot to say, I love the colourful flower filled welly boots, and your last photo really does have a magical look to it 🙂
No it’s more than just the Robin Hood film (which I haven’t seen) Eunice,
I remember that tree from walking the Pennine Way in 1969. My children still remember it from when they were only 10 or so. There was something magical about it.
I’m very sorry that other families won’t be able to make similar memories. I have been glad to see the humble sycamore recognised as being worthy of love. They’re one of my favourite trees.
Being in the film amplified the outrage, because it helped write the headlines that people could relate to, but it was a hauntingly beautiful scene. I am still smarting about decisions made locally about biodiverse, naturally regenerating land. I would not have believed you could so easily scrape all the life from a field and a body of water, including the birds above it, had I not witnessed it.
A thought provoking post. I sometimes think about things in a different way. I had to look up “nowty” as I was not familiar with the word. I saw it was northern England. I did my student teaching in Durham and had to learn a lot of new words or different meanings to words, but I never heard nowty. Learned something new.
We pronounce it a fairly sharp, blunt, front-loaded ‘now’ and a cropped ‘ti’ and the irritable sound of the word seems very apt. It is more commonly something you accuse someone else of rather than admit to!
This is a thought-provoking AND interesting AND varied post. What an achievement.
If only words brought old trees back.
Indeed.
Susan, I learned a new word, too.I liked your post very much, and here we are so sorry about the tree being cut down. It happens now and then in our cities as well – people cutting down trees or hurting them badly. Sad stories and I guess those who do this are not feeling good inside and don’t know how to express it. Weird way of doing it though.
Loved your take on, the Wellingtons and all. The doorstep gave me ideas and I adored the edge with the mouse.
I liked your ‘not feeling good inside and don’t know how to express it’. It’s hard not to feel sorry for them too. Even if they have no remorse, and live lives not enriched by nature, their life changed on that saw blade. They cut part of themselves down with the tree.
Wow Susan, you covered the gamut here!! I agree there are so many sad stories about how we’ve abused our natural world so why should one tree get such a noice. On the other hand, I think anything that draws attention to our disregard of the natural world helps people to sit up and pay attention – hopefully anyway. Loved your magical lady of the woods and the wellies in this on.
I am glad there is general consensus that one old tree does matter and hopeful they might get better protections. I am scared to imagine, even fleetingly, that it might have been cut down for that reason (my mind, unfortunately, scans for options where there is a mystery). I hope we will learn what the motive was.
Every once in a while, we just have to say it like we see it. 🙂
Thanks, Judy. I do feel a bit better for being able to, well, grumble, I suppose, in such a supportive community.
Great photos, great variety. Well done.
Thanks, John.
I did enjoy this post because of your honesty and it was a breath of fresh air. The flowers in the gumboots were a cheery sight.
Thanks for your support, Suzanne. The patterns on the boots are very designer-y.
Really enjoyed your mixed bag. Loads of thoughts provoked. Just read Sylvia Plath for first time this year, so that was moving too.
Thanks – I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I’ve been to Heptonstall, I walked there from Hebden Bridge, but I didn’t see Sylvia’s grave.
I liked mixed bag type of posts. Interesting what you can put together using a theme.
We walked up too. It’s quite a climb! It’s not easy to find. The village is, in some sense, trying to protect her. You have to pass the graveyard around the church then a street of houses to another one at the side.