Wander With Me: Kathryn Anna Marshall
Stories of place, memory and wilderness
Welcome to our collaboration feature here at Wild Quiet Folk!
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 Kathryn Anna Marshall.
Thank you for being here, and I very much hope you enjoy the below:
The last walk - or outdoor adventure - you went on
Ah this was a gentle adventure through the woodland and alongside the pools of Dudmaston Hall near Bridgnorth. We’d had a difficult weekend, and getting out for a short while brought some calm and slivers of joy. I wasn’t expecting a great deal from our walk – the weather was grey and damp and the walk itself was busy with excited half-termers. As ever, the land brings gifts. Snowdrops greeted me as I rounded the corner towards The Dingle (a garden created as part of the Picturesque movement). These are extra special now – they were Dad’s last gift to my mother – he planted dozens of them in his final autumn.
My walk continued past ancient trees, glass like pools with dark reflections and perfectly placed swans. I saw majestic firs felled by Storm Eowyn, and gained comfort from the fact the remains had been left to continue to provide a place for wildlife, fungi and lichens. The final joy from this short, muddy walk was a majestic ancient beech. Crevices and burls create a tree that’s ripe for tales of woodland secrets and oodles of inspiration for a poet who loves trees.
A celebration of season
I’ve got to be honest the desire to see winter pass frustrates me a little. The joy is there, it just needs a little more attention. At this time of year, I can discover snowdrops, crocus, dainty Iris Reticulata in my own little yard. I love that the birds need me a little more and I become a provider of food rather than something that simply occupies the same space. The feeling of chill air, and that almost metallic smell that a cold clear morning brings. I am also aware I write this from a position of privilege – I now work in a role that allows me to see winter days, I have a home that is a warm retreat. For people who leave for work in the dark, spend all day under strip lighting and return home to dark cold house, the joys of winter are more difficult to find.
The things in your pockets
It depends. My gardening trousers have bits of string, occasional seeds and, on occasion. precarious secateurs. Coat pockets have tickets or leaflets from adventures long past – I rarely remove them because I enjoy the happy surprise. My jeans contain nothing but a tissue, that I have no doubt will be rediscovered too late on laundry day.
A place that feels wild to you
My wild places are those which offer great expanses of barren space, moorland and seascapes. I was born in Cleveland, just north of North Yorkshire, and the rock strewn moorland and coast of the North East has always filled me with a sense of calm and fear.
A moment of care
My moments of care revolve around making food. It’s the way I show love to others, and recently I’ve recognised a shift in the way I make food for myself. Rather that shovelling whatever I can lay my hands on, I give the same level of care as I would for other people. This is a big change for me and something I’m exploring in what will be my fourth small collection of poetry.
A place that holds history, yours or others
This is the place I first felt my Wild Feeling. I was around eight years old and going through what I now know was significant trauma. A school trip took me to the iron age hill fort Maiden Castle, just outside Dorchester. I have a vivid memory of walking alone, breathing in mist, being acutely aware of my difference and, crucially, not caring. I’ve never forgotten it and it’s a feeling that returns at times of crisis and at times of certainty. It’s the inspiration behind the poem Maiden Castle, one of my first publications, and is part of a series of previously published poems I’m reading for This Wild Feeling.
A story you found in the land
The story of the land here in Coalbrookdale is one of recovery. I live in an ex industrial landscape. It’s a working area that is rapidly changing. The last factory closed in 2017 and the fierce glare of eighteenth-century industry is long gone. During research for a poem featured in my first poetry book Yes to Tigers I happened on Anna Seaward. She’s a fascinating poet, with views that form a sharp contrast to the accepted attitude of the time that all progress was a good and vital thing. Written in 1799 this poem captures the devastation the industrial revolution wrought on the landscape.
An extract from Ode to Colebrookdale by Anna Seaward
Of black sulphurous smoke, that spread their silk
Like funeral crape upon the sylvan robe
Of thy romantic rocks, pollute thy gales,
And stain thy glassy floods; — while o'er the globe
To spread thy stores metallic, this loud yell
Drowns the wild woodland song and breaks the poet's spell.
Blast furnaces are long gone, skies are clear, the sound of birds fills the air rather than the boom of the furnace. There are remnants of industrial heritage, but these are returning to the earth. My feet tred where carts once rattled along Ginnie rails, I walk alongside pools that used to feed the furnaces, where I can admire coots. moorhens, mallards. I can look to smoke free skies to track the circle of buzzards. Such a different life to those who that have trodden this same path.
A small thing you learnt recently
That people like me and I can trust them when they show me care.
Kathryn Anna Marshall is a poet based in Coalbrookdale, a village on the banks of the River Severn and home to the world’s first iron bridge. She is inspired by the landscape around her as well as issues around grief, body image and inequality. Kathryn has M.E. and Bipolar II and her work explores the reality of living with these conditions. She also writes the occasional poem about cats.
Kathryn was an inaugural columnist for Spelt magazine and has work published in anthologies and journals including Mslexia, Popshot Quarterly, Lighthouse Journal and The Dawntreader. Her forthcoming pamphlet The daughter of a man who loved birds was shortlisted in Alchemy Spoon pamphlet competition and highly commended in the 2024 Geoff Stevens Memorial Prize. She works as a copywriter and writes bespoke poetry for private commissions.
Kathryn is fascinated by the connections between visual and written art and explores this by working alongside various artists as well as through poetry film. Her poetry film My death will grieve foxes was selected to be part of Stanza International Poetry festival 2024. Kathryn is currently working on her next short collection of poetry, as well as contemplating a return to short fiction.
Kathryn writes a semi-regular column on her publication This Wild Feeling which is home to her poetry films, and the place you can find readings of some of her published work. You can find out more about Kathryn’s bespoke poetry and her books on her website kathrynannawrites.com. She is also moderately active on Instagram.
Beautiful words 🩶
I always love reading these Wander with Me responses 😊