Words that spark wonder
Sensory joy and circle poems - Friday, I'm in love - Issue 12
1. Under pressure. I suspect I wasn’t the only one who learned the phrase ‘anticyclonic gloom’ this month. While Spain has struggled to cope with devastating floods, the UK has been experiencing unseasonably mild weather, along with humidity and seemingly endless grey skies. We’ve escaped the worst of it here in Fife, but spare a thought for the village of Odiham in Hampshire, which experienced an average of just over a minute of sunshine, per day, for 11 days in a row.
As I prepared a breakfast feast for the birds early one morning, I was reminded of the Scots word smirr - described alternately as rain so fine that it almost caresess (Scots Language Centre) and “so light it seems like a mist or smoke” (BBC Radio 4).
Other favourite words to describe our weather, and its effects, include:
Haar - a cold, wetting sea-fog on the east coast
Dreich - dreary, gloomy
Drookit - Absolutely soaked
Snell - Bitterly cold, piercing
2. The beauty of dreich days is that they make you appreciate the sun when it does appear. In a bid not to miss the chance to feel it on my face, yesterday I persuaded Jay and M to take a break from their main quests (editing a mental health video and completing a Zelda game), to join me on a side quest (autumnal walk in the woods).
We headed to a favourite local spot and were soon treated to the childlike awe of crunching through leaf-carpeted trails. Another late autumn love is that it is easier to spot red squirrels now that the trees are becoming bare. We experienced all the wonder as a cheeky wee fellow briefly hid from us before deciding to casually hop through the tree canopy right above our heads.
A stone wall along this walk has been carved with Scots words here and there, including the sensory wonder that is ‘burlin’ - “to revolve rapidly, whirl round, dance; to make a rattling or whirring noise” (Dictionaries of the Scots Language).
3. Circle poems. Joy is poetry woven around a tree.
“To flow away continually to be constantly replenished”
I spotted these words on a bench while trying to befriend a crow, as you do. I haven’t found out who the poet is (yet) but appreciate the sentiment, particularly as it is set into a circular seat overlooking a rather striking (on account of being designed in the mid 1800s by architect, Alexander Roos), fish pond. A ponder patch in all the ways.
Described by the Scottish Poetry Library as “visual, temporal, and metaphorical,” circle poems can be read in multiple ways and often connect to ideas of sustainability. I was first introduced to this form by poet Rebecca Sharp and have tried writing them a few times. It’s harder than it looks.
If you have a moment to fall down a rabbit hole, then Scottish artist, Alec Finlay’s letterbox / circle poem project is a dream.
The film I watched while gripping the back of the sofa - Woman Of The Hour. Directed by Anna Kendrick, who also plays the lead role, this film unflinchingly revisits the real life story of a woman who is partnered with a serial killer on 1970s USA TV show, The Dating Game.
Writing for Toronto International Film Festival, Jane Schoettle sums it up perfectly:
“Instead of dwelling on the gruesome details that often preoccupy true-crime tales, Kendrick uses the case to make an incisive statement on the way women are forced to navigate their encounters with men. In addition to being an intelligent metaphor for those uncomfortable nuances, Woman of the Hour also harbours a dark truth: when you’re confronted by the rage of men, the only way to make it out alive is to play the game.”
The book I’m currently reading - Home Matters by Penny Wincer. A soulful book that goes below the surface territory often trod by interiors writing, to explore what truly makes a house a home.
The one I’ve added to my wish list - A Winter Dictionary by Paul Anthony Jones. He had me at frost-dogs (“tiny frozen particles of falling snow”).
Which - or whose - words have been bringing comfort to you this week?
And taking us into the weekend is the song that Alexa thought I would particularly enjoy today*. It seems that, way back in the 80s, Amazon was spying on eight year old me, bashing the keys on my keyboard and singing my wee heart out.
* Just watched the video, she was right - the bodypaint, the dancing, the gold glitter! Pure joy.
Love this, particularly the Scottish words for weather. xx