A Flurry Of Wings
tales of the river bank
On the bank of the Otter Stream, 4 February 2025
Hello dear between the moons friends,
I’ve been thinking about what to share with you this time. The moon is waxing and some evenings the cloud has actually cleared enough to witness its steady swelling. Last night I looked up as I stepped out of the van after Zumba and saw, to my delight, the brilliant-edged semi circle hovering right over the cottage pantiles.
As you may remember from our last get-together, I’m busy on a new candle story at the moment. Its shape is coming, slowly, but I’m definitely noticing a big difference in how much work I need to put in - how many stories and pictures I need to create and post - in order for any of them to be seen. There’s no mystery involved. Instagram and Facebook’s algorithms have changed dramatically in the year and a bit since I launched Hikey Sprite, my last candle offering, and it’s all too easy for individual posts to sink without trace. I know this, from the relief with which former candle customers have contacted me once they actually realise what’s happening.
Luckily I already have quite a few ideas for Fen Bride stories up my sleeve. Even where I haven’t decided how to approach a topic, I do have faith that inspiration will come when I actually get myself to sit down and pick up a pen without the usual fear that nothing but gobbledegook will flow out of it. Often, it’s the idea for a visual that will come first and the writing follows, when I let it. And then, other associations present themselves and a story arrives.
That’s what happened when I started thinking about ducks.
The start of the story: a mallard drake and duck in Marshland and Freshwater Birds (1975), one of my favourite series of bird books (readily found in charity shops as I’ve discovered)