Hello and thanks for reading my newsletter on marking the microseasons in the pages of my sketchbook.
We have had a lovely and warm few days here in Edinburgh, which is now turning back to the cool, misty mornings of mid-Spring. Nevertheless, the long days of the solstice period have been lovely, with the light lasting long into the night and arriving again before I wake up in the morning.
This microseason is dedicated to the Thistle - the latest wildflower to appear on the banks of the Water of Leith (the Marsh Thistle), with other varietals (ie: Spear thistle) popping up not too far away.
According to legend, the thistle thwarted the element of surprise for an invading force of Vikings sometime in the 11th-12th centuries; as they stepped onto Scottish soil under the cover of night, they hollered at the thistle thorns trampled under foot. Whether or not there’s any truth to that, the Spear Thistle has long been represented on all sort of emblems of Scottish identity (as opposed to the non-native Cotton Thistle, I learned this week)
While Thistles are fast growing and terribly hard to be rid of in a garden, two common varietals in Scotland - the Marsh and Spear Thistles - are amongst the largest nectar providers, commonly visited by butterflies and bees.
There is something beautiful yet hardy and resilient about the thistle, which is reflected in the landscape of Scotland, and perhaps its people too. This is well captured in Ted Hughes’ somewhat violent poem:
Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men
Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.
Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasped fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up
From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.
Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.
Until next Microseason,
Natalie
Sketchbook Notes:
I started this page of my Pith Yuzu on a short afternoon walk, then finished inside with layers of pastel and pencil. I’ve been so pleased with the Yuzu - I think I might even prefer the thinner paper.
I’ve recently lost my Earth Green Faber Castell, which was a real shame. It would have captured the blue-green colour so well!