Katie Beswick - writing
Hawthorn - holds us
Beautiful Old Hawthorn, you embody a before, tales of the winds, as they changed, did you get stuck ? What etched your markings, so the small folk could wander your ravines to find food and shelter. At home in this place you become a land for so many.
Your kind speak of Union.
Your Unfurling buds bear the wings of angels. 🍃
At the time of the sweet, sensuous, powder puff bloom. When we squeeze and squeal in delight and our limbs are want to wind and wrap, round those of another whose scent calls.
Your Petal strewn paths usher our way to truest of unions. Those of a different rapture when our hearts ripple out and out and out and we can only follow.
You hold us too, in that stillest of spaces, when our hearts feel so heavy and our limbs are wont to drag. It is then we come to know your truest love. You hold our deadweight as we lean in hard or sit alongside. And if the time is right, graze on your blood red berry. Witnessing your thorn for there is teaching too .
No matter, Full of bud and Leaf and flower and berry or bare. I settle under your old weighed down limbs. I have laid with you many a time and you have been my arbour as I hid with my thoughts , from crowded folks up in those hills yonder .
Time spent with an old hawthorn and wandering through a hawthorn glade throughout the year will tell you all this and more. ⭐️These are sacred places often found on common lands . This is the people’s medicine , the heart of the connection we have with all, this wonderful world at our