Wander With Me: Jo Taylor
Stories of place, memory and wilderness
Welcome to our Wild Quiet Folk collaboration!
Substack is an endless source of inspiration, a cacophony of unique voices that can lead a reader through the weird, wonderful and wild.
Here, I have collaborated with other creatives to bring you their meditations on place, story and wilderness - the heart of Wild Quiet Folk. This series is in an interview format, but offering creative prompts rather than questions - the freedom is with the contributor, to respond in whichever way they see fit, be that words, photos, drawings, anything that enlarges rather than restricts.
Our contributor this month is Jo Taylor, from Seeds, Weeds and Wildflowers. Don’t miss her beautiful audio narration - which makes it more accessible and also provides wonderful details and the feeling of walking alongside Jo.
Thank you for being here, and I very much hope you enjoy the below:
The last walk or outdoor adventure you went on
A celebration of season
A love of winter. Not the festive season so much as the stark beauty, lines and silhouettes across the landscape. I love rituals because I find that they help me stay connected to nature, even in the smallest of ways, and even if I can’t get outside. I bring together a few items that represent the season and say a few words that mean something to me. The offering is simple and short but symbolises my gratitude for the joy and sustenance I receive from nature. This winter offering is my thank you to the garden.
The things in your pockets
Always: honey lip balm for sore lips and a cotton hankie for perpetually watery eyes. The rest of the jumble depends on where I’ve been. There’s usually a few seeds, stones, and feathers in there. I am a magpie and can’t resist looking out for nature’s small treasures.
At the moment the contents of my coat pocket is made up of a collection of dried moss and lichen, a seed head missing its seeds, a dried flower that I can’t remember collecting, and a broken sycamore seed, which I forgot about and has since become battered by the flints that were also in this particular collection. I often forget what I’ve collected in my pockets, and then end up adding a few more bits on the next walk. Occasionally something might be left over from a previous season which is then a delight to re-discover in my pockets a few months later, in a completely different form.
A place that feels wild to you
The Moon and space. The moon feels like one of the only true wild spaces remaining that has so far been minimally invaded by humans. I sincerely hope it stays that way.
A moment of care
A cup of tea, always. Sustenance, warmth and my go-to self-soother!
A place that holds history, yours or others
I grew up in a semi-rural small town in the south of England. It’s surrounded by steep hills and endless fields. From home it was only ever a five to ten minute walk until you reached the woods, or wheat fields—both of which I loved. But there was one field in particular which I became really attached to. As children, my brother and I would escape to it and use it as our extended playground. It didn’t matter what season it was, we made up our own adventures. We’d be gone a couple of hours at a time, flitting through the labyrinth of footpaths until a big wide sky appeared. We sledded down the field in snow, and ran through the wheat in summer just before it was harvested. This one place holds so many memories.
The field has also carried me through many difficult times. It was a place I could go to, to be alone and tell my troubles to the land. I used to sit by the edge of the wheat, put my hands flat on the ground and imagine the earth absorbing the inner turmoil I felt. When I say I used to, I actually mean that I still do. Although I no longer live near the field, some of my family still do. When I visit them, I also visit the field, as it feels just as much a part of my life as they are. For more than forty years this place has been woven through my life and I can’t think of anywhere else where I feel so emotionally tethered, and happily so.
A story you found in the land
A couple of years ago, while on holiday on the Isle of Arran, we hiked in an area of North Glen Sannox. The steep climb up was on Caisteal Abhail, often known as the Sleeping Warrior due to its outline when seen from the Ayrshire coastline. After chatting with the locals we found out the legend behind the sleeping warrior which is that they lie there while sleeping, with sword on chest, but will rise to defend Scotland when the country is in a time of need.
It was one of the most atmospheric hikes I’ve experienced and left me feeling changed by the landscape—not physically, but somewhere in my being. I left a piece of myself there, and took a piece of Caisteal Abhail back with me.
A small thing you learnt recently
That owls have three eyelids. The upper one is for blinking and the lower one for sleeping. The third eyelid closes from the inside out to keep the eyes clean. I was very excited to learn this!
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Jo is a maker, grower, musician and photographer, nurturing a life-long devotional practice of weaving nature and ritual into the everyday. Her publication is called Seeds, Weeds and Wildflowers, which is a place for seekers of untamed edges, the imperfect and the meaningful. With twice monthly tales from the woods, garden and hearth you’re invited to gather in, rest and deepen your relationship with the beguiling beauty and feral corners of the natural world. You can read more here https://joannataylor.substack.com