My willow staff marking the May at the Ladywell holy well, Appleton, Norfolk,4 May 2024
Hello and welcome, Between The Moons friends!
I want to let you in on a dilemma I’m facing at the moment. Actually, I think I’m on the verge of making a decision, but this wavering actually seems to be an expression of a bigger question, so I’d love to know what you would do in my shoes.
Let’s go back to the beginning. In Through Dust, Mud, Sand and Marsh which I posted back in the summer, I told the story of my willow staff, created in the front yard of my previous home. Dusk after dusk - in snatched moments while looking after my sick husband - I would steal out with my little knife to where it stood propped up by the hedge.
‘I had had my eye on the willow sapling on the old railway line for a long time. Every time I passed it on a walk or cycle ride I would think what a perfect staff it would make. The hedge-flailer had treated it harshly, hacking off its top growth again and again during maintenance missions so that it was in effect a tiny pollarded tree, its witch’s hair twigs erupting from the top in a wild tangle. But half-hidden in the spiky silhouette I could see a curving pair of horns, which a sharp knife and plenty of sanding could reveal: the perfect terminal for my new staff.
One November day, with due reverence for the tree I was taking from the earth, I cut the sapling and took it home. Creating my vision was far more challenging than I had imagined it would be, as the mass of twigs emerged from a huge knot, hard as iron. Once the soft, fragrant green bark and pink bast were pared away - an easy and intoxicating task - it took much chipping away of tiny slivers for the shape I had imagined to begin to show itself to me.’
Can you spot the sapling that became my staff? It’s the one just to the right of the central gap. I can see its shape immediately even though it’s still crowned with all the twiggy bits - just as I could at the time.