Week Twenty Eight
The sound of the cuckoo has always been to me quite a mythical almost fairy tale like sound, one you get to know as a child. I find it strange that although I know the sound so well, I have never actually heard one in real life. I rushed out of my studio when I began to hear the infamous call, and although I could not see it, the sound was loud and clear…and of course ‘cuckoo’ like! It’s been quite a ‘birdy’ week really. The swallows have returned, not quite yet in their full numbers, but certainly the scouts are here, showing off their superb aerodynamic skills, flashes of bluey black streak across your vision as they dart around. What masters of flight. I have to go through a barn to get to my studio, and everyday this week, the (so far unrecognisable) bird that’s nesting in the rafters, flees in panic every time anyone enters the barn. I’ve already asked it if we’re going to do this each time, but alas, it hasn’t listened to me and continues its frantic escape. I’m wondering if it’s having second thoughts on its prime real estate. 
There is a distinct rise in the sound of the pneumatic drilling from the rather glorious woodpeckers. I now realise at this time, it’s the sound of territory rights. It does make me wonder though, do they ever get headaches and has one ever got its beak stuck? A certain woodpecker has been visiting my bird feeding station over the past six months, and I’m pleased to announce he has finally worked out how to get the peanuts. 
It has spent most of the time just clinging on to the poll, looking rather large and rather out of place, whilst longingly gazing at the nuts. Now though, it still looks rather large, still looks out of place, and the other birds watch in disbelief whilst it ‘pneumatically’ pecks away. If I could just get it to be, well lets just say….gentle…then I wouldn’t have to go and pick up the feeder every time it graces us with its presence! 
The fells also seem to inhabit more birds than usual. As you walk through the grasses, praying that the tics aren’t hungry and that you don’t step on any adders nests, there is also the hundreds of larks to take into consideration. They nest in the humpy bumpy grasses and as you get closer to them, the larks rise and hover slightly away from their nests. I for one, would hate to step on a nest, so I am glad of this warning. 
I am only used to seeing fir-cones in their dried up state, usually on the ground or sprayed some ‘nice’ decorative colour for some ‘nature’ table display. I’ve been regularly checking the bud status of the trees for the past few weeks now. I wanted to see that moment when they burst open; of course the daily checks at first were a little premature, even to the point of being knarked by their lack of cooperation, and of course the few days that I actually stopped looking…yep…they opened! This nature observing is tricky business you know. 
Some buds look like exquisite light bulbs and I keep expecting them to illuminate when the sun goes down. I was astonished when I came across the larch trees and their newborn cones. Apart from the miniature green brushes worthy of ‘Zen’ recognition that become the larch needles, the raspberry coloured baby cones give the impression of woven work of art that any textile artist would be proud of. My photography skills failed to capture this, therefore the photograph that you see is the more advanced stage of the cones development. 
To schedule I have finished my ‘Eight-fold Path’ drawings. It feels good to have finished something; I’m looking forward to hanging them and seeing if it works as a successful artwork…or not? I am presently trying to complete an enamelled wall panel for a parent toddler group that is part of my residency commitment. I have converted the children’s drawings into glass transfers, which are being fired onto enamel tiles. Because there is only one kiln it is longer process than I expected. It is also a steep learning curve as my enamel transfer experience is rather limited. 
The filmmaker and ‘accidental’ artist, Steve White, is back at Highgreen to continue creating the ‘Jilly Goes North’ film. As the residency is a yearlong we thought it important to capture the changes of the seasons. So a great way to demonstrate and capture the significance of spring is to film skippy bouncy lambs. Apparently it’s called ‘gambolling’. Extremely early one morning, Shona a local shepherdess took Steve and myself to feed the sheep and check the lambs and any expectant ewes. 
Although we were rather bleary eyed to begin with, the cold morning breeze hitting us in the face whilst standing in the back of a trailer soon woke us up. As weather is the theatre to landscape, the wonderfully dramatic skies added to our adventure. It was exhilarating to hear the call of the shepherdess, the many bleating sheep and bleating lambs as they ran towards us. Such an extraordinary array of sounds omitted from these hardy strange creatures. The ewes bombard the area where the ‘sheep cob’ is laid down, lots of hustling and bustling to get to their breakfast. The newer lambs panic, as there is confusion where their mothers are, the older more confidant lambs, merrily play ignoring the rapid feasting. Steve got some fabulous footage for our film. 
Apart from playing dodge with the weather the filming is going really well. Steve has also done some fantastic sound recording of the wealth of animal sounds in the area. It’s been really excellent working along side him, and the quality of the footage just gets better and better. We’ve had a go at driving a quad bike, seen angles in the clouds, recorded the dawn chorus, worked very long hours, had a slap up meal at the McCracken’s and both managed to eat congealed macaroni cheese that I, unfortunately created. Even though time is ticking away extremely fast I actually feel as though I know what I’ve got to do, it really is a different phase of my residency, it feels good, I feel calm and collected, excited about the next projects to work on and ready for all the hard work ahead. A great week. Week twenty Eight….blimey…twenty eight…..done!