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Category / Essay / The Clearing
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Algiz by Nick Hayes
I went picking and sawing fallen, seasoned boughs, that lay scattered on the valley slopes of the river Avon.
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Stories in the Woods by Martin Maudsley
Like a rolling river, seasonal changes can pass us by unless we intentionally immerse ourselves in the outdoor elements; feel the flow.
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Patterjacks by Benjamin Myers
He cocked his head and listened, and for a moment the cool morning was perfectly still and silent.
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Seen Dead by Mike Parker
I try the church door, and much to my surprise, it creaks open. I can’t remember the last time I found one unlocked.
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Perhaps All Art Is Ritual by Jackie Morris
Is this giving back of the stones ritual; back to the land, to the sea, to the living, to the dead?
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At the Very End of the Road by Phillip Edwards, an extract
…fine nebulae of plovers high above loose weavings of lapwings above tighter sprays of redshanks…
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Milk by Robert Ashton
A hundred years ago, the Evans family were far from alone in keeping a cow in their backyard.
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The Last of Our Green Space by Jalal Abukhater
Ramallah’s residents have a lingering sense of claustrophobia: it’s not hard to see why.
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This is not the Wasteland by Caroline Beck
The dale is full of dreamers, dry-stone wallers, artists, writers, potters, stargazers and poets all quietly soaking up its rich raw elements.
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Shalimar, an extract, by Davina Quinlivan
Hepworth carved a Burmese Baby from the blackest wood, silent and shining. She conjured him with her own hands.
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Song of the Iris by Nic Wilson
Each bold bottlebrush is tinted a timid pink, so pale it’s almost white, as if their painter lost conviction after the first wash.
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Provenance by Anjana Khatwa
As my fingers stroked the gnarled surface of this ancient branch, I heard its secret whisper.
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