A wild walk.

I went on a wild walk, foraging plants. She said, ‘there was a knack to it’ as she chewed the nettle. I wondered, whether the unknown is the forgotten. Rubbed out like the sting of the nettle she ate.

I had bought a guide to wild food. It sat on the shelf unopened for a time. For now. For then. For this place. A small wooded valley, a watery cut out to the sea.

No certain light. No sedimentary rock. No romantic idyll of a tranquil nature. I was uprooted. I picked in the shade of hemlock.

I went from place to place. Stones of moss, standing time. To running grass. To a silent flight of on off light. To a roll down meadow.

A Pennywort bellybutton. A carry me back night. An explorer of the natural state. Curiosity holding fear.

I went on a wild walk, to remember.

 

Wildwalks – Rachel Lambert

Featured photo by Su Ormerod

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash