A Greenlandic novel and tiny garden joy
Friday I'm In Love - Issue 18
Not our garden. But a place I love – Jupiter Artland, near Edinburgh (Photo by Jay)
1. Listening to the birds in our garden fills me right up. As their nesting activity intensifies, chirps of avian conversation float across the hedge all day long. While I sip ginger tea on the – possibly rotting if the decking I pulled up this week is anything to go by – patio step, the blackbird stands sentinel on our neighbour’s chimney, singing his heart out.
We don’t have a big outdoor space and our back yard is spread across an awkward narrow area. The title deeds require us to keep the beech hedge, which sheds most of our privacy each winter then sneaks towards the house all summer. No matter how many times it pokes me in the eye, I celebrate its return each spring, the first green leaves unfurling along with the relief of lighter days ahead.
Our washing line is small and yet I’ve happily allocated half of it to the birds, scooting their feeders along when the bedding is out. Even their constant discarding of seeds and mealworms to find the chosen few can’t dent my enthusiasm. And those shiest of souls, the bluetits have come to accept my presence now, flitting to and from the peanuts as I sit as still as I can, enjoying the feel of sun on my face once more.
2. The joy of design. It’s almost a relief to have a tiny, gravel-covered garden. Because, otherwise, I would definitely want one of these joyful beach umbrellas in it, as spotted on India Knight’s Home. Meanwhile, my orange Acapulco-esque chair, a Homebase bargain, manages to withstand the Scottish winter and brings great happiness. At least until the neighbours start power-washing their patios and strimming everything in sight. Again.
3. All things book-related. In case you missed it, I shared a post on this earlier this week and would love to hear your favourite bookish things.
The last novel I read - Crimson by Niviaq Korneliussen. Having not had the joy of visiting Greenland (yet), I decided to travel there via Niviaq Korneliussen’s debut. Originally written in Greenlandic and published as HOMO Sapienne in 2014, this short experimental novel is set in the capital, Nuuk and is told from the perspective of young Greenlanders who are grappling with gender identity, queer experiences, relationships and self-worth. In doing so, it gives an insight into post-colonial LGBTQ life in the capital city.
What I’ve been listening to this week - On Muscle: The Stuff That Moves Us and Why It Matters by Bonnie Tsui.
What’s been fuelling your creative soul this week? I’d love to hear any favourite songs, books or moments.
Recently I was reminded of the poetic lyrics and present day parallels (“Everybody knows that the boat is leaking, Everybody knows the captain lied”) in the 1988 Leonard Cohen song, Everybody knows. Here it is, to take us into the weekend.
Love love love your account of your bird station Christina! We’ve been watching a noisy set of young starlings visit our feeder and harangue their mother. This morning one of them seems to have learnt to take seeds from the feeder themselves! Fast learning. I’ve been inspired by visiting the 1920’s theatre family D’Oyly Carte’s Arts and Crafts house at Coleton Fishacre near Dartmouth. Such beautiful gardens but there were photographs of what the site looked like when it was being built in 1925-27, an empty field. So they would never have seen what we can see today. 😌