Layering
I suggest you put on a coat this morning if you’re out walking in West Oxfordshire. It’s not freezing, but there’s a damp chill in the air and you can always shrug the coat off and tie it round your waist if you get up some speed and heat later. You don’t come to the Writing Path for style advice, but I do feel qualified to comment on the painful fashion world that is dressing for April in the UK. Always add a layer, is my top tip for the chic rambler. If you had already planned to wear a jacket, think about a cardigan underneath. If you have the full complement of outerwear, consider a vest. If you were wondering whether you could go out without headwear now that we’re into the new financial year, reevaluate and maybe spend some of your new budget on a bobble hat in spring colours.
Today, I noticed cowslips. The first lamb has been born in the field beyond the otter bridge and sprigs of cow parsley and nettles decorate the ditches and verges around the village. I have seen all these things before, written of them more than once. There is nothing new, although everything is slightly different. The cowslips feel a touch earlier than usual; the lambs rather later. The field leading to the otter bridge flooded more than it has before this winter and is still mudlogged where other fields are dry. There are fresh fences and signs marking off what is common and what is private.
I am also changed this April. I have absorbed knowledge and enjoyed novel experiences since the month last showed itself. My hair is a different colour. I can see the stinging nettles as positive signs now, since I recently discovered that so many critters, from grand Red Admiral butterflies to tiny thrips, depend on their hostile leaves and stems. I have been touched by individuals and movements that remind me a besieged world can still be saved. Following a rather stressful few weeks, I am entering April depleted from a nasty cold and low on energy, but there is something restorative and nurturing about seeing the layers of spring settle all around me, transforming the world anew and all the same. I’m reminded of art we used to do at primary school, using translucent paper to trace a scene over and over, then adding a small, unique feature to each sheet. Stacking the sheets together and allowing them to fall into place, we created shifting landscapes that brought time into being. Some people’s lives might be best represented as a series of bright painted scenes, revealing dramatic transformations in lifestyle and friends and homes; others invite subtle layering techniques where changes aggregate almost invisibly.
Think creatively about your own layers
Find some tracing paper and create your own landscape of subtle change; or use the image as an inspiration for a series of short paragraphs describing a local spot over a few days and highlighting the tiny shifts.
I checked, and the cowslips are indeed earlier this year, and were earlier last year than the previous one. Take the beginning of April as your opportunity to start a nature diary. You can do this even if you don’t live in the middle of nowhere, like me. Most windows reveal a patch of nature, each street corner has something wild about it if you look closely enough. Note one thing you spot each day. If you like, use your one thing as a prompt for writing a short poem or passage.
Imagine a character who for some reason has to wear every item of clothing they own all at once and use this as a starting point for a story. This might be a tragedy, a comedy, or a flight of fancy – your choice.
