I love this place, like an annual pilgrimage to this most special of spiritual spaces. The yearly snowdrop walk is something I love to do. I have taken special friends, family and even myself alone here.

This is a short post this week as I am recovering from a winter virus, and I haven’t felt like doing much of anything (and feeling the Winter blues again) but going here on Sunday was such a boast.

The woods and paths are beautiful, and it re-enforces the power of the outside, of green space, fresh air and above all walking.

I mentioned in my audio last week how I was inspired by a lovely lady called Vanessa living a life on a narrow boat and her beautiful journals. I’m realising why her work is so powerful because she observes in real time what is going on around her and then writes this down in her journal and poetry publications. This adds an extra layer of creative skill that is so clever and where you are actually feeling you are there and living it with her.

On my Sunday walk, I thought I would this a go. I had written a poem about snowdrops, but since my visit I have revised it. For example, I had an impression that snowdrop leaves were darker and shinier in real life than they really are. I changed this. I really looked at what I saw making a mental note about it, the sounds heard, the light in the trees trying to capture more than the superficial glance of the eye.

See what you think ( and just ignore the auto capitals on each line).

Snowdrops

Galanthophiles,

Lovers of white pearls of petal

Of softer pure, around leaves that settle.

Tips emerge from the hardened ground

Little bells rejoicing but without a sound.

Green tips, they peep from under trees and wood

Endearing arms with tiny, buttoned hood

Maidens lips, a touching kiss

That caresses each January and never miss.

Pale and smooth of leafy green

That people’s hearts wish to be seen

Of New Year’s walks and the hope they bring

Trumpets heralding the approach of spring.

To ponder and stare and never haste

I hear the Robin and feel his grace

To honour the snowdrops amongst the gall

A breeze with its swirling call.

We look towards their shy turned face

And on we walk, but lessen our pace

Galanthus nivalis

Snow maidens true

Our yearly guest

and never too few.

@helenmarshall Feb 2025

There is a lovely article about snowdrops here from the Woodland Trust if you care to read more about this charming and much-loved flower.

Take care and until next time…

Next week, we shall be exploring canal life on our walk.

PS: I heard last night I didn’t win the Happiful magazine poetry competition submitted in November with my poem called ‘Walking is My Saving Grace’ but I was proud I was brave enough to enter and was so impressed with how thoughtful, kind and hopeful the email response was. There were over 900 entries and apparently the judges were so impressed by the standard of entries. This actually felt genuine and there was a true compassion in their response and hope for future writing.

I can share my poem here at some stage because I think it is rather good!:))

Have a lovely day.