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Sunday Flashback
Here is a reprint of a piece I wrote, as Jean Dark, back in 2012. I am astonished by how the memory still makes me feel happy and fulfilled.
Gaunt’s House Labyrinth
In December 2012 I took this series of photographs of the stone-laid labyrinth at Gaunt’s House in Dorset.
The Labyrinth at Gaunt’s House is a classic seven-circuit labyrinth in turf and brick, laid out in the private grounds of a Dorset Retreat Centre. It has been used for meditational and spiritual purposes by visitors to the house since it’s construction around the turn of the millennium.
In December 2012 I was staying at Gaunt’s House for a fortnight volunteering. We were painting and decorating a cottage on the grounds, in exchange for bed and board. The food was good and wholesome, the company, my workmates and fellow volunteers, were generally cheerful and uncomplicated. My accommodation was a sparse but comfortable single room in a converted stable block, it was called a “Meditation Cell”. I was at a difficult time in my life and I was struggling at home to regain my composure and maintain my solitude – I had been tempted to take a Vipassna Retreat. Obviously the Meditation Cell felt like a miraculous gift.
Meals were served four times daily in the dining hall of the main house, and the walk from my cell to the dining hall could be prolonged and enchanted by taking a long route through a pond-ridden wooded area to the back of the labyrinth at the far end of the lawn. As I was still waking in sweaty panic early in the dark in those days, I would get straight up, put jumper, trousers, waterproofs and wellies over my pajamas and walk, ramble, explore, what you will until I had to go in to breakfast. Along hedgerowed field-side paths glimpsing a wren, across sloping green meadows to a cluster of Ashes, through thick untrammelled unhunted woodland alone, over swollen winter streams following Fallow Deer, in a circuit around the artificial lake. I tramped in the morning half light, in frost, fog and ice. It was a gloriously empowering start to the day, giving me a gentle daily dose of solitude and contemplation.
I always ended my walks by stopping off at my cell, changing into workclothes and detouring through the woods to the labyrinth. Outlined permanently in bricks it remains imprinted on the earth even if no-one walks it. I walked it daily for a fortnight in December 2012, kicking through frozen woodland leaf-litter, marking out the spiral path, moving inwards to the centre, inwards and then outwards. Then breakfast, refreshed.
One afternoon towards the end of the fortnight, I had a block of freetime and decided to spend that time working with the labyrinth. I spent the dull-lighted December afternoon throwing, sweeping, raking, kicking leaf litter off the paths, to the sides where they marked out the ‘walls’ covering the bricks with moist fecund leaf mould. The path was revealed as a swathe of soft green grass. I was finishing the centre as the sun set and I walked the newly cleared labyrinth at twilight. Managing to make it across the lawn to the main house in perfect time for tea.
The photographs

In December 2012 I took this series of photographs of the stone-laid labyrinth at Gaunt’s House in Dorset.
I spend the dull-lighted December afternoon throwing, sweeping, raking, kicking leaf litter off the paths, to the sides where they marked out the ‘walls’ covering the bricks with moist fecund leaf mould.
The path was revealed as a swathe of soft green grass.
I was finishing the centre as the sun set and I walked the newly cleared labyrinth at twilight.
Next morning the scene was bejewelled with frost.
Sequoias Resurrected
Muffled up and walking in the park, that bright harshly cold midwinter morning I was horrified to see what had happened to the Sequoias.
I’d identified three Sequoias, or Redwood trees, in my local park a while back. I’d recognised them by their yew-like needles, their tall regular ovoid profile and red spongy bark, and I checked them out, spoke to them, whenever I passed through the park. But the needles of the Sequoias that winter morning had turned an awful lurid orange, the colour of the underside of a slug, or the nasty neon of cheap orange squash. It was as if they were shedding their needle leaves, yet as far as I knew Sequoias – Coast Redwoods (Sequoia Sempervirens) and Giant Redwoods (Sequoiadendron giganteum) – were all evergreen. I made a concerted effort to call on the Sequoias every few weeks over the rest of the winter and watched in dismay as the trees seemed to wither away and die.
Dawn Redwood in Cherry Hinton Hall Park
I thought and read about Coast and Giant Redwoods a lot for a few months, learning that Sequoias are the largest, tallest and oldest trees on the planet, there is fossil evidence going back 5 million years. And although native to north west coast USA, since the 1860s they have become quite popular transplants in parks and botanic gardens across Europe, indeed Redwoods seem to grow larger, faster and stronger in European soil than in their native habitat. In the website Redwood World (http://www.redwoodworld.co.uk/) I found an invaluable information resource and exchange, with a county by county list of redwoods in the UK, there was no mention of Redwoods in my local park, only trees in the University Botanic garden and newly planted saplings in private gardens.
Although I thoroughly researched Redwoods it wasn’t clear to me why they appeared to be dying, there seemed no evidence of insect infestation and our local park has no large animals, like deer or cattle, to eat the trees, I began to assume environmental failure.
In googling image searches I tried to distinguish the two species and identify which species was dying in my local park. My local specimens were most like the Coast Redwoods (Sequoia Sempervirens), red burnished bark glowing in bright spring leaved green, growing tall, straight and wild in endless sun dappled groves on the internet. I was pretty sure my park Redwoods were not Giant Redwood (Sequoiadendron giganteum) which seem to exist primarily in freak-of-nature type photographs – tiny human standing by stupidly enormous tree, or a cabin made from a single hollowed out log , or tunnelled through for a road, I decided that all those implausibly-giant-tree photographs on the web are either CGI or Giant Redwoods. My redwoods although clearly mature were still small enough to encircle with my arms, small enough to hug.
Then, one solitary park-walk in mid-April I noticed the Sequoias gleaming with that tentative nearly-bursting leaf-bud mild- halo of green, just like the park’s oaks, ashes and conker trees – it looked to me like the Redwoods were miraculously coming back to life. Sequoias resurrected. I spent quite a while with one of the trees, noticing new growth, leaf shapes, patterns and sizes, and then I rushed home, giddy to google “deciduous sequoia”.
That was how I encountered the third member of the Sequoia family – the Dawn Redwood (Metasequoia glyptostrobides), a tree believed to be long extinct, an ancestor to Coast and Giant species , known only as fossils. Then last century a stand of deciduous Sequoias were discovered in China, it took until 1946 for the connection between the Chinese trees and the fossils to be made. To prevent final extinction seeds were gathered in 1948 and distributed to universities, research facilities and botanic gardens around the globe.
The Dawn Sequoia is characterised by its deciduous nature and the leaflets occurring in opposite pairs on the stem, apart from this, for a lay person, there really is nothing to distinguish the Dawn from the Giant or Coast Redwood. The outline of the Dawn and Coast are almost identical and they all bear the distinctive bright spongy red bark.
All three trees in my local park are mature enough to produce cones and to have reached their current size they must have come from the earliest batches of seed distributed in 1948. I have contacted the Cambridge Botanic Gardens and Redwood World website to see their thoughts, and it will be interesting to see if I can discover the story of these three rare trees and how they came to be planted here, in a suburban Cambridge park.
Dawn Redwoods at Cherry Hinton Hall
Jean Dark (first posted June 2015)
Throwback Tuesday Payback
Meandering through the content on my website I came across this article, it seems to be the oldest blog posting on the site. The book review was written in august 2011, under my old pseudonym Jean Dark, the novel itself was published in 2010. I remember the book well, it was a joy to read and a joy to review. please enjoy…

Dice & Dysfunctionality by Fay Knight
Published 2010 by Shield Crest Publications
The Role-Player/Pagan crossover is a well known phenomena (See Ann Finnin’s The Forge of Tubal Cain for a real life example) and this debut novel by Fay Knight mines that rich seam with surrealism, dark humour and panache.
The wonderful opening line “Kevin already knew he was going to die” immediately catapults us into the skewed world of the “Dice-Tossers”, as one long-suffering girlfriend describes them.
From there the rapid-fire plot loops and swirls and sweeps unrelentingly through all manner of strange shenanigans; UFOs, swoopy bat-like things lurking in the dark, goth clubs, a lost weekend in Whitby, an Old Dear packing a pistol fired up with the vision of a local tele-evangelist as the anti-christ.
And there’s dragon-porn too. A collection of hand drawn images which “go a bit further than Giger’s artwork” become empowered and manifested by an unspecified and possibly accidental Austin Osman Spare Zos-Kia style sex magic ritual. Knight’s writing leaves everything to the imagination and my mind kept flinging up lurid images from vintage science fantasy paperback covers. Not to mention more terrifying dragon-on-dragon variants.
The book is seamlessly written, and the dialogue is particularly witty and sharp-tongued. Characters seem to emerge progressively, realistically as well-rounded, but not always sympathetic, individuals from the initial homogeneity of a role-player clique. At least, some of them do, one or two remain repellently unfathomable, shady strange secretive huddled and whispering in the corner.
This is an enjoyable read for anyone with an interest in paganism or gaming, you’ll recognise many of the characters among your friends. It would also be an ideal yule gift for any sigil-wielding, dragon-loving dice-tossers you may know.
Better still, give a copy to their girlfriend, who’ll undoubtedly snigger knowingly.
Jean Dark
Edgewords 3 is here!
Join us for our launch event tomorrow at The Edge Cafe at 7pm (doors open 6:30pm), where the contributors will be sharing their wild encounters. Entry is free. Copies of Edgewords £5 (all proceeds to The Edge Cafe, for its work supporting people in recovery from addiction).
We Wrote, And Wrote, And Wrote
Here, for your pleasure, is the report I wrote for The Edge Cafe Newsletter April 2018 about the Creative Writing group at The Edge Cafe…
On 12th January this year a thronging crowd gathered at The Edge Café for the combined Launch of Edgewords Anthology and Oblique Arts Exhibition.
As I stood beside the Community Fridge, I wondered how many more people could comfortably fit into the room. In nervous anticipation I watched, as more chairs were dragged out from the back room to seat the expanding, buzzing audience. Victor, Munizha, Lisa, Faith, Kate and I (The Edgeworders) were waiting to perform from Edgewords Anthology chapbook. Chapbook is a sixteenth century term for an independently printed pamphlet. In making our 2018 chapbook we participated in the whole process of it’s production: from writing content, through editing and collating, proof-reading and printing, to bookbinding paperback and hardback copies, using traditional hand binding methods.
We started writing back in September last year, our Creative Writing sessions ran on Friday afternoons, and we spent two hours a week in word games, outings to Cherry Hinton Hall and a local bookshop. We played with images, rune cards and even a chess board to ignite our imaginations. Our writing was posted weekly on our blog-page (https://oblique-arts.com/tag/creative-writing-workshops/). We chatted, drank tea, laughed and got to know each other, but mostly we took quiet time to explore, follow and write out our thoughts and inspiration, we wrote, and wrote, and wrote.
By November we had gathered enough material to edit our chapbook, which we then proof-read, printed and bound. Later, preparing for the Launch, Edgeworders worked together at solo performance and in devising collaborative group performances.
The accompanying Art Exhibition, in deep white frames around the walls, encompassed a range of media – photography, painting, sketching, illustration, bookbinding and collage, work from Oblique Arts visual art workshops in December and January.
For me, the Launch was a thoroughly enjoyable success, and a satisfying culmination of working with inspired and inspiring writers. I hope we can secure funding for future creative writing sessions, and produce an Edgewords 2 Anthology.
I am hoping we Edgeworders will meet again soon
for yet more Wild Encounters.see footnote
Thanks to Bev, Sarah and Jannie of Oblique Arts, Andy and The Edge Café staff, Simon and ASH Coop, and to Cambridge City Council. I mostly want to thank Munizha, Lisa, Victor, Faith, Kate, Jane and all who joined us in the Creative Writing workshops, for the enthusiasm and joy they brought to the project.
Footnote: Wild Encounter is a delicious ruby-red fruit tea served at The Edge Café.
Edgewords Launch running order:
Introductions from Beverley Carpenter, Jannie Brightman and Jean Dark.
Performing Haikus Medley – Group Collaboration Performance.
Mill Road Day by Victor-Manuel Ibaῆez.
Speaking of Smoking by Bella Basura.
Recovery Runes by Faith.
Fiction by Munizha Ahmad-Cooke.
BREAK.
Rainy Hearthfire by Jean Dark.
Gaia by Faith.
The Narrow Escape by Victor-Manuel Ibaῆez.
Ripe by Munizha Ahmad-Cooke (performed with Lisa Evans and Jean Dark).
The Cuckoo by Lisa Evans (Group Collaboration Performance)
Jean Dark
Spring 2018
Making it Real
MAKING IT REAL
What a great feeling to have reached the point in a project when the long nurtured ideas and plans begin to form and take tangible shape in reality.
The progress of the Edgewords Anthology seems to me to be just at that point. The moment when thoughts turn out to be things.
Last Friday we used the workshop to collectively proof read a rough copy of Edgewords Anthology, and at the weekend I reworked the document. I am so grateful to Munizha for working with me to finalise the text.

The proof copy is looking pretty tatty, but quite authentic and very real.
This week I’ve been preparing individualised hardback cases for the contributors (Edgeworders) complimentary copies.

Next Friday’s workshop will be a bookbinding session, we will sew and bind our own personal copy of the Anthology.

Hard back copies, Edgewords Anthology. Bella Basura November 2017.
Today I spent time with my friend, Simon Mullen, at ASH Co-op. We were doing complicated copying things and printing out the content, the innards, the guts of the Edgewords Anthology.
It all went remarkably well, Simon and I seemed to get a system going and produced several dozen copies, pronto!

And so an ephemeral idea steps closer to manifesting materially.
Edgewords Anthology is Launched on 12th January 2018 at The Edge Cafe, Cambridge.
Jean Dark 2017
Thanks to Cambridge City Council, The Edge Cafe and Oblique Arts
Upcoming Workshops
Jean Dark in Earth Pathways Diary 2017
By sunset the snowfall had smoothed out the meadow and in the strange lucid twilight I quickly found the fire basket…read more…













