Nature’s fireworks light up the woods

A YEAR ago, inspired by the work of our extraordinary photographers, we set about documenting daily life in the Chilterns over the space of two months in autumn.

For 61 days between Halloween and New Year’s Day, diary entries recorded the changing sights, sounds and smells of the local landscape.

UP WITH THE LARK: a spectacular start PICTURE: Sue Craigs Erwin

From frosty mornings to chilly nights, the daily forays provided an opportunity to take time to savour the small delights we so often take for granted: cobwebs glinting in the sunlight, fabulous fungi lurking in the leaf litter or glorious sunsets bathing the fields in pinks and purples.

Lazy rambles were a chance to listen out for rutting deer and hooting owls, contemplate the eyeshine of foxes or reflect on some favourite poetry about the natural world.

AMBER STARE: a curious fox PICTURE: Lesley Tilson

From fog over the heath to the “smoky smirr o rain” amid the trees, November is a time of mists and mirk, first frosts and chilly moonlit nights.

It’s a month of poppies and fireworks too, of peak leaf fall, the wonders of “leaf peeping” and the simple pleasure of wrapping up warm to guard against the plummeting temperatures.

TEXTURE CONTRASTS: bark and leaves PICTURE: Sue Craigs Erwin

It’s a perfect time for reflection about the outstanding natural beauty all around us, with the weathered brick and flint of ancient cottages, pubs and farmhouses providing a glorious backdrop for an autumn outing.

On these ancient paths, generations of invaders and settlers trudged across the Chilterns and built their castles, forts and palaces along the banks of the Thames.

MISTY START: Cock Marsh on the Thames PICTURE: Phil Laybourne

Beneath our feet amid the fallen leaves are those miraculous glimpses of colour and texture which have such an intriguing story to tell about life on earth.

Fungi are everywhere around us, largely hidden from view and poorly understood despite providing a key to understanding the planet on which we live through their extraordinary symbiotic relationship with plants and trees.

COLOURFUL ARRAY: turkeytail fungus PICTURE: Graham Parkinson

As local villages light up to welcome the season of advent, out in the woods the trees come alive in the gleam of a supermoon, slowly, silently walking the night “in her silver shoon”, as Walter de la Mare so memorably captured in a book of children’s poems back in 1913.

This way, and that, she peers, and sees / Silver fruit upon silver trees” he wrote, a suitably poetic reflection on the closing moments of a glorious November day and a reminder that it will not be too long before the rosy-fingered goddess Aurora will be rising from her marriage bed to bring daylight back to us mere mortals…

SUPERMOON: November’s Beaver Moon PICTURE: Carol Ann Finch

Day by day, November in the Chilterns includes a selection of pictures taken talented local photographers. If you would like to contribute any pictures, favourite moments or seasonal suggestions to our future calendar entries, join our Facebook group page or write to editor@thebeyonder.co.uk.

Nature holds the key to recovery

FOR Catherine Arcolio, nature wasn’t always a refuge – but it was to become a genuine life-saver.

“There came a time when I had nothing left but hopelessness and despair,” she recalls on her website Leaf and Twig.

“Each day was an abyss. All the colour, light, purpose and connection had drained out of my life. I’d spent decades self-medicating my depression until eventually, my ‘solution’ became an addiction.

TOUGH JOURNEY: Catherine Arcolio

“Together, depression and addiction held me hostage for a number of years and then brutally robbed me of the will to live.”

It took support from her family and friends and a move from the city to a tiny rural community in New Hampshire for Catherine to find the resources that could help with the hard process of managing her depression and recovering from addiction.

SMALL-TOWN THERAPY: detail from Perspective PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

“I found comfort in the quiet of the woods and in the peacefulness a lack of cell service imposes,” she says. “Nature asked nothing of me but my respect. I could be exactly as I was. Slow. Speechless. Sparkless. My spirit was in tatters.”

Lying across the river from Vermont and just a few hours from the Canadian border, her chosen place of refuge proved the ideal place to reclaim her life, she reflects.

SAFE REFUGE: detail from Asylum PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

“It’s a very rural area. Our “town” features a stop sign, post office and tiny market,” she says. Immersed in nature, she was able to get out and about in all weathers, soak up the sunshine and rain and appreciate the particular beauty of each season and the natural processes of birth, ageing and death, savouring the eternal return of spring.

“A model of the whole, complicated, entwined, gloriousness of life,” she says. “That second spring I started to notice colours again. So many shades of green! A sky so blue you could practically splash it on your face.”

SECOND SPRING: detail from Visitor PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

After living such a desolate grey monochrome existence for so long, the contrast was dramatic, but the transformation did not happen overnight.

“The healing was happening in infinitesimal increments, too small to notice daily or even monthly,” Catherine explains. “And then suddenly, like in the Wizard of Oz, the world was full of colour once again.”

WORLD OF COLOUR: detail from Morning Meditation PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

Darkness wasn’t banished, but there was definite progress. The question was, how to keep moving toward the light?

Trawling the internet, Catherine stumbled across the work of Satya Robyn, an author, Buddhist teacher and psychotherapist who advocated writing short poetic observations or “Small Stones” as a way of engaging with the world in all its beauty.

POETIC SNAPSHOTS: detail from Destination Spring PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

“I followed her prompt of writing a short observation each day for a month – and then just never stopped,” she recalls. “I decided to take a photograph of what I observed as I communed with nature each day and pair it with my words.

“Later I would learn this pairing is an ancient art form called ekphrastic poetry. All I knew was that it was helping me stay connected, aware, hopeful and grateful.”

COLD COMFORT: detail from Winter Work PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

Now 62, she started posting on her Leaf and Twig website back in 2011, garnering dozens of “likes” for her short poems and making a “very modest” revenue stream from subscriptions, supplemented by occasional sales of fine art prints and greetings cards through her pixels.com and fineartamerica shops.

TASTY TREAT: detail from Break Time PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

The poetry and photographs became something of a daily ritual, she explains: “One day at a time for over a decade I’ve built a foundation for my recovery and a body of work that honours and celebrates the natural world and our human condition.

“It happened organically, not as a grand plan. Just a practice to keep connected, to focus my mind towards gratitude rather than despair. This daily art-making saves me. I’ve been training my eye to always be on the lookout for beauty.”

SUNNY OUTLOOK: detail from Dreaming Porch PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

In a “loud world” that moves faster and faster, she aims to transport viewers into a peaceful and intimate space, an opportunity to “linger in the renewal, nourishment and wonder of the natural world”.

And, like the woods, her website has been a refuge too, a “lovely community” of people who share their views through the comments, she says.

“That has been so healing to me, that the response to my work echoes the spirit in which it is offered.”

FIERY FINISH: detail from Flames from the Night Sky PICTURE: Catherine Arcolio

The internet can be a mean place, but Catherine’s website has been a sanctuary where supporters have found themselves drawn to her images and words, and the promise of beautiful daily encounters that they offer. And long may that continue.

Catherine’s blog can be found here, and her galleries of images for sale on pixels.com and fineartamerica.com.