Spirit of Nature

A Taste of Devon

In August, as in a few previous years, we had the privilege of staying in Brixham, Devon. An opportunity for physical, emotional and spiritual refreshment. To connect with ourselves, each other, the Divine, and Nature – the latter, of course, being the focus here.

Hummingbird Hawkmoth, Berry Head Country Park

Hummingbird hawkmoths, those miraculous migrants from mainland Europe, have become an increasingly frequent sight in England – possibly as a result of global warming. Whatever the reason, they are such welcome visitors. Last year (2022) was a bumper year for them in Southern England. One day we had FOUR(!) on the buddleia in our back garden (in Hastings) at the same time.

And yet, every time I see one, they still mesmerise me and I reach for the camera. This photo, taken in Berry Head Country Park, which borders Brixham, is one of my favourites – and quite an unusual one for me: I normally see them feeding on flowers like buddleia or verbena, but this moth was scouring the undergrowth – possibly looking for a suitable larval foodplant to lay eggs on.

Viper’s Bugloss and other wildflowers at Berry Head Country Park

Another privilege we enjoyed was seeing dolphins on a couple of occasions, including these from quite a distance – hence, not a brilliant photo – from the top of Berry Head.

Sticking with the Berry Head theme, these next few images were taken on a boat trip we took as a family with the expectation of seeing dolphins and other sea life. We didn’t actually see any dolphins on that occasion but, on the gorgeous day we had, with the picturesque views, the excursion was still utterly worthwhile.

Back on dry land.. the light trap turned up a few interesting and handsome moth species, including this rather dashing Lackey:

…this Ruby Tiger:

…and this Four-dotted Footman:

Other local invertebrates that drew my attention during the week included this Garden Spider:

…and this Hornet Mimic Hoverfly:

Hornet Mimic Hoverfly – the UK’s largest hoverfly and often (understandably) mistaken for an actual hornet. These have been quite prolific this year.

There was also some more urban wildlife…

such as this gull that had its eye on my daughter’s scampi and chips through the restaurant window:

…and this seal in Brixham Harbour:

Ironically, what might be my best picture of the week was taken with my basic phone camera one evening when (sod’s law) I’d decided not to bring my ‘proper’ camera out with me.

A low, rolling sea-mist had turned Fishcombe Cove into a quite ethereal seascape – so breathtakingly unusual, I guess it would have been hard to take a bad photo!

Hope you’ve enjoyed this tiny taste of Devon’s riches.

Purple haze

As a child mildly obsessed with butterflies and nature (and then as an adult), I had a recurring dream of seeing a Purple Emperor, one of Britain’s largest, most majestic and iconic lepidoptera. In fact, the male Emperor, with his stunningly iridescent, purple wings, is often fondly referred to by butterfly enthusiasts as His Imperial Majesty.

I never saw one as a child. But over the last few years, as a middle-aged man with a car and the benefit of the internet to tell me where to search out these entomological royalties, I’ve been able to – literally – pursue my childhood dream.

I’ve therefore had the privilege now of seeing several Purple Emperors at a couple of sites, all within a relatively short driving distance within Sussex where I live, but never getting a decent shot with my camera, as they tend to dwell high in oak trees, where they feed on sap runs.

This year, on 7th July, I visited Knepp, the renowned rewilded estate in West Sussex, for the third time, not just in pursuit of better pictures, but also simply to enjoy once again the experience of being immersed in a place where farming not only continues ethically and organically without detriment to Nature…

…but where Nature has been actively allowed to flourish.

Knepp’s successful stork reintroduction project

I still haven’t managed to photograph a Purple Emperor close-up, although my 150-500mm lens purchased since my previous visit to Knepp made a big difference!

Purple Emperor – quite beautiful even with wings closed

So these photos, while not brilliant, are my best yet.

I was especially pleased to catch these shots of an Emperor being pestered by a Purple Hairstreak – another species that lives high up in oak trees.

All the purples – Hairstreak and Emperor

And Knepp is a great place to find other butterflies too – like this somewhat battle-scarred Silver-washed Fritillary…

Well, I guess that’s it for another year. Maybe this time next year I’ll be back here with some more shots of a Purple Emperor, this time closer and with wings open.

But for now, I’m more than pleased with these photos;

once again I’m invigorated by an immersive experience in an area where Nature, in her precarious position globally and especially nationally, has been given the opportunity she needs to thrive;

…and I feel extremely blessed to have fulfilled a lifetime dream.

Snakes and flowers

Bulverhythe Beach, located between Hastings and Bexhill in East Sussex, is one of my favourite places in the whole world. And it happens to be only 1.5 miles from where I live!

Just now, on the beach, this large patch of Viper’s Bugloss (Echium vulgare) is absolutely stunning. So much so, that it inspired this post.

A sight made all the more welcome by the many bustling bees drawing on its rich nectar.

White-tailed Bumblebee on Viper’s Bugloss

Viper’s Bugloss, found on chalk grassland, sand dunes, cliffs and disturbed ground, provides food for a range of insects, including various bees and butterflies.

Apparently, it’s so named because its spotted stem is thought to resemble a viper (adder).

I was lucky enough to catch sight (and photo) of an adder just last weekend and, personally, I can’t say I can spot any likeness, but both flower and snake fill me with delight and wonder.

As I reflected on the sight of the adder last weekend, I was reminded of Jesus’ advice to be “wise as serpents, innocent as doves” – pertinent and timely counsel for me in a current situation I find myself in, where I need to be prudent about when and how to speak up, and when to keep silent.

The Viper’s Bugloss, with its serpentine misnomer, bears an innocent beauty and generous symbiosis, in its self-giving to the many visiting nectar-gatherers, that seems to me to correlate more with the dove than the snake in Jesus’ analogy.

It reminds me of the need to hold on to integrity and kindness in challenging situations, and the power of these to overcome the negativity of others that might come against us.

Hope you enjoyed these thoughts and photos.

All Viper’s Bugloss photos were taken on 18/6/23 at Bulverhythe Beach; the adder at Park Corner Heath, East Sussex, on 11/6/23.

Conkering beauty

Horse chestnut trees line many a street and woodland path here in the UK.

In September they will yield conkers, beloved by kids of generations past (and maybe present), like me in my childhood (and adulthood!).

But right now, in May, these trees are clothed in their intricate, lacey late-Spring blossom.

Horse chestnut tree ‘litter’ on a bramble leaf

I think they’re just showing off!

It’s simply stunning.

This Early Bumblebee (Bombus pratorum) seems to agree…

(All photos taken near my house, in Newgate Woods, Hastings)

Simplicity

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the wildflowers grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

“So don’t worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

(Jesus)
Matthew 6

When I read those words for the first time, back in 1986, it kickstarted a process somewhere within me that eventually led to a spiritual transformation some 18 months later.

Jesus’ wisdom struck a chord in my young, atheist heart, changing the direction of my life in so many ways[1]. I was only 20 then and, although I’d already had my fair share of traumas and challenges, life was simple. Not happy, but simple.

The faith I stepped into was also straightforward. And I found happiness!

Now in my late 50s, when life is more complicated and I face different challenges, I’m reminded again of these words as I contemplate these Spring flowers in our local woods.

And I wonder… is it possible to recapture some of that young simplicity?

To once again take Jesus at face value?

And, in my evolved, progressive faith, to simply trust God who cares for Nature to also meet all my needs, not just materially but psychologically and spiritually too?

I do hope so.

[1] Full story in my book Coming Home for Good

Contemplative Photography

In The Way of the Heart[1], the late Henri Nouwen described Solitude and Silence as conditions for contemplative prayer.

I would add Stillness.

Not necessarily physical stillness (many people find it easier to pray and meditate while walking), but a slowing down and calming of mind and heart.

This kind of stillness is synonymous with silence as described by Norwegian explorer Erling Kagge:

“I believe it’s possible for everyone to find this silence within themselves. It is there all the time, even when we are surrounded by constant noise. Deep down in the ocean, below the waves and ripples, you can find your internal silence….swimming across a forest lake or taking a walk over a field: all these can be experiences of perfect stillness too.” [2]

Solitude

Silence

Stillness

I find it intriguing that these prerequisites for contemplative prayer are also key to our ability to connect with nature and wildlife photography.

Hummingbird hawk moth in our back garden

Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not…

I think there are some clear reasons why Solitude, Silence and Stillness are common to both contemplative prayer and photographing nature.

Firstly, when we interact with Nature, are we not also communing with God or ‘the Divine’?[3]

Six-spot burnet moths on the South Downs

And does not Nature sometimes need some searching out, in the same way that God calls us to seek their Presence with our deepest desire?

In contemplative solitude and silence we are able to tune out the distractions of the world around us and give our attention to that which is beyond the temporal and visible, to the voice and presence of the Divine.

“The Desert Fathers did not think of solitude as being alone, but as being alone with God. They did not think of silence as not speaking but as listening to God. Solitude and silence are the context within which prayer is practised.” (Nouwen)

As for being alone with a camera…

White-letter hairstreak, discovered on the edge of our local woods

Much as I love walks with my family, it’s often not practical taking time to get a decent picture of a butterfly when others are waiting for what feels to them like hours! I have to hurry on rather than linger mindfully and watchfully.

And the cacophony of children and chitchat of company means that potentially photographable birds inevitably don’t stick around long.

Male Chaffinch. Most (but not quite all) of the photos here were taken while on my own.

Of course, we can and should appreciate nature with others.

When we explore naturey places with other people, we may be able to enjoy shared moments of awe and wonder, and inspire each other’s love for the natural world and our environmental concern.

My daughter enjoying holding an Orange-tip butterfly on a grass stem

But when I’m alone – and stop – and sit or stand, and wait quietly, in stillness and silence… wildlife that wouldn’t otherwise be witnessed might emerge out of the shadows, materialise out of the margins.

Isn’t waiting for God in meditative solitude also something like this?

“God’s first language is silence. Everything else is a translation,” claimed Thomas Keating.

And Meister Eckhart famously asserted, “Nothing in all creation is so like God as stillness.”

Rowan Williams, reflecting on Eckhart, says that:

“Silence is letting what there is be what it is, and in that sense is profoundly to do with God. When we experience moments where there is nothing we can say or do that would not intrude on the integrity and beauty of what is before us, that is a silence that takes us into God.”[4]

I so love that!

I want to carry that principle into contemplative prayer and into nature photography.

…and into everyday life.

And so open my soul to the wonder of everything.

[1] Nouwen’s classic book on the life of the desert mothers and fathers.

[2] From Kagge’s meditative, wonder-full, compact book, Silence: In an age of noise.

[3] A pantheist believes everything is God. A panentheist believes God is in everything. Although the latter seems like a respectable and attractive idea, it’s quite a nuanced belief and not universally accepted among Christians. However, I think it’s fair to say that most people of faith see Nature – or Creation – as a direct expression of the Creator.

[4] From Rowan Williams’ excellent, short book, Silence and Honey Cakes, also on the desert fathers and mothers.

Fall Towards Grace

A few months ago, in The Fall and Rise of Nature, I posted pics of an Indian Chestnut tree that had just fallen in our local woods, reflecting on the richness of life that generates from dead wood and the importance of leaving Nature to do her own thing with fallen trees.

This week I witnessed evidence of that regeneration as several blue tits flitted about for ages on the fractured trunk of that Indian Chestnut, poking about in the arboreal sinews. I thought at first they were looking for gaps to nest in, but soon concluded they were more likely seeking out tasty invertebrates to feast on.

As well as the blue tits, a single wren skulked about (as wrens tend to do) at the base of the tree.

Maybe the slow, sunny transition from midwinter towards early Spring had triggered the release of insects from hibernation.

Whatever the case, this little buzz of bird life around the dead tree was a delight to behold and meditate on.

Sometimes, when we fall, we fall towards – rather than from – grace.

(Apologies for the slightly poor photos – best I could do!)

“Phwoar!!”

I was fascinated by this unusual looking cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo) diving in a small pond in Alexandra Park, Hastings, yesterday. I even saw it come up with a small fish and gulp down the silver slither in a flash – too fast for me to get a photo of that brief moment unfortunately.

With its striking white head and neck, I assumed it was a young bird, but after a bit of an internet search, it turns out this is a cormorant in breeding plumage.

Of further interest (I knew nothing about cormorants before, even though we see a lot of them here in Hastings), to find one in breeding plumage this early in the year, and in the south-east, and with this much white, it was almost certainly the somewhat smaller, ‘continental’ subspecies sinensis.

I learned that colonies in the south-east, particularly inland colonies nesting in trees (which we see regularly in this area), usually contain a mix of sinensis and carbo and no doubt mixed individuals with parents of both subspecies.

When seen head-on, this handsome bird’s face reminds me of an emu!

Isn’t it incredible how vibrant and colourful many animals become to attract a mate? I think, if I were another cormorant, I’d definitely take a look at this gorgeous beast and go “Phwoar!”

When Saturday Comes

I like my early morning dog-walks before work. The fresh air, the quiet, the solitude. The connection with nature in our local woods. The opportunity to reflect and pray.

And yet even the contemplative and spiritual aspects of the morning walk tend to be functional.

They serve as tools – resources to enable me to face the challenges of a demanding job, rather than pleasures in and of themselves. I keep an eye on my watch, aware of my limited time before the start of the working day.

But when Saturday comes (to quote an Undertones classic)….

It’s a different matter. I do the same thing, but differently.

Prayer and meditation are more mindful, less focussed, more open.

The colours around me are brighter. The fresh air feels fresher. Everything’s slowed down.

Saturday walks are a bit later. Nature is a bit more awake. As am I.

The sense of connection with Nature and with God feels – maybe not stronger, but clearer.

I take my time. I take my camera. I notice more, and enjoy some relaxed and relaxing photography.

Good robin photos are ten a penny on t’internet. But no harm in adding a few more.

I took these – with delight – yesterday, on Saturday morning…

Happy weekends, everyone!

Fungal wonder

Summerfields Wood, our local dog-walking stomping ground, is a perennial site for the stunning Hairy curtain crust fungus (Stereum hirsutum)[1], whose bright orange margins illuminate its dank, dark surroundings like the first glimmers of dawn at the end of a long night.

So it’s not an unfamiliar sight.

However, while walking in the woods this weekend, this log, so breathtakingly bedecked with these marvellous mushrooms, caught my attention anew in wide-eyed wonder.

So much so, I decided the fungus-spangled log needed a photoshoot for a page of its own here…

“[Wonder] is one of the purest forms of joy that I can imagine…

Wonder is one of the most powerful forces with which we are born…

My sense of wonder is first and foremost something in and of itself, wonder for the sake of wonder. A small voyage of discovery. Though it can also be the seed that germinates, to bring forth new possibilities.”

Explorer, Erling Kagge, from his wonderful, short book, Silence

[1] I’m not an expert at identifying fungi. I think this is Stereum hirsutum. But it could also be Golden curtain crust (Stereum ostrea). Both species also seem to be known as False turkey-tail, which makes it very confusing. If you’re clearer than I am about which one this is, please let me know in the comments. Thanks!