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  • LONDON BOUND

    From the River Barle to the Banks of the Thames All rivers are one... Is A River Alive? Endpapers - Daniel Co We recently returned to Exmoor tired yet inspired following an exhilarating trip to London.   Hamish Hamilton and Penguin Random House UK generously invited a select band of independent bookshops to The River Room, for supper with Robert Macfarlane to celebrate the imminent publication of Is A River Alive?   This is Robert’s most political book to date and questions how we should address our rivers, for they are not 'its,' they are alive and have been since deep time. They should garner our respect and care, yet shockingly we continue to abuse how we treat our life source, and our rivers are dying - even those we may consider healthy. This is not purely an industrial urban issue but widespread, reaching the pockets of Britain we consider to be 'wild.'   Is A River Alive? is a ‘Force’ of a book, both Christopher and I had read it before meeting with Robert, it was only polite to finish our homework! We can assure you it is astounding, strictly embargoed, we are unable to share any reviews with you at this time, but it will certainly not disappoint his readers.   Throughout the evening Robert was incredibly generous with his time, ensuring he spoke with everyone. When we departed the Thames was swollen, gun metal grey reflecting the lights of the city in the cool night air, a powerful presence that has shaped the capital - a confined beast.   Naturally we would love to host an event for River but are realistic when it comes to the demands on Robert's time, however when talking with him and David of Stanford’s those of you living in the Southwest will be delighted to know that Robert will be making an appearance in Bristol. In the meantime, you may enjoy his recent conversation with Peter Florence at St Martin’s in the Fields. The following morning, along with our fellow booksellers, we visited the new HQ of Penguin Random House UK. The team made us so very welcome, and it was a delight to finally meet with Simon Prosser, Anna Ridley and Hermione Thompson, all of whom we have worked closely with having been commissioned to make the promotional films for The Lost Spells – it was lovely to finally put faces to names and feel valued by the wider book industry. We heard tell also of progress on The Book of Birds which is now in the design stage and looking rather fine! The Lost Spells | Red Fox Our time with Robert and reading Is A River Alive? has certainly made us consider how we may highlight the welfare of our local Exmoor rivers, we’ve always delighted in their allure but what impact as individuals do we have on their future? Is A River Alive? Proof Copies at Seven Fables Hamish Hamilton have refined the special edition since we last brought pre-orders of Is A River Alive? to your attentionvia Tour newsletter. hey are now signed and stamped by the author, with exclusive end papers designed by Daniel Co, a ribbon marker, plus additional content - an extra page at the end of the book containing a Riversong, the broadsheet poem written by Robert Macfarlane and illustrated by Nick Hayes. Quite the collector’s edition!  Riversong, for all our rivers - Words Robert Macfarlane - Illustration Nick Hayes

  • 'Where the White Bears Dance'

    A Musical Christmas Procession... Throughout her career, Jackie Morris has been creating dreamlike images for the Help Musicians Christmas card, and this year the white bears take centre stage, dancing on the back of an elephant as they parade across a winter landscape. It has in recent years become part of the festive tradition, for Jackie to invite a musician to compose a short piece of music to accompany the artwork. This year she invited Molly Howell, a young musician living in Wales to respond to the colourful, serene winter procession. Molly has worked previously with Jackie, creating the haunting soundscape for Feather, Leaf, Bark & Stone and welcomed this new commission. Christopher and I were not expecting to make a film for the artwork this year as Jackie's time has been focused on completing The Book of Lost Birds, her head in paint, brush and feathers, and yet we unexpectedly found ourselves staying together at Northmoor House and never ones to miss a creative opportunity spent an afternoon at the piano... A visual delight... On returning home we spent a day by the fireside editing a short film to convey the spirit of this year's artwork, highlighting the colourful details that link the stories, the musicians and their companions across Jackie's imaginative winter realms. We hope you enjoy visiting their world for a brief, relaxing moment in time... If you are enchanted by this year's imagery you will be delighted to know that limited edition prints are available to order directly from Seven Fables, the original also. Delivery is available throughout the UK and overseas - please do enquire info@sevenfables.co.uk or view via the link below THE JACKIE MORRIS PRINT COLLECTION The Christmas cards are for sale exclusively from the Help Musicians website HELP MUSICIANS 'We love music and want a world where musicians thrive.' Help Musicians is a charity for professional musicians of all genres, both in work and in retirement. They offer support at times of crisis, but also at times of opportunity, giving people the help they need at the crucial stages that could make or break their career. Discover more by Molly Howell on Bandcamp... BANDCAMP: MOLLY HOWELL

  • 'Fox and Hare and Great White Bear

    ...tell me the names of the sea' The story of a painting, a song of the sea and a film by Seven Fables For almost twenty years, if not more, Jackie Morris has been creating dreamlike images for the Help Musicians Christmas card, this year is the story of the Fox and Hare and Great White Bear, and the painting is accompanied by a haunting melody written and performed by Kerry Andrew - You Are Wolf . Jackie asked Christopher, and myself, if we would make a film to capture the beauty and vibrancy of her work, and highlight Kerry's music. We naturally said yes - Jackie is a joy to work with and having the luxury of a ready-made soundtrack was a gift, so while staying at Northmoor House , we set up a temporary studio in the scullery where the colour and gold shone in the October light. Before you continue reading, listening, watching, we suggest that you light a candle or two, make yourself comfortable, relax and enjoy... Fox and Hare and Great White Bear A story by Jackie Morris In every image there are as many stories as there are people who look. Each begins with a curiosity. Who is the woman in blue? Does the drummer summon the fish with the rhythm of her music? Does the boat follow the fish as they wander the world’s winds, or do the fish follow the boat, drawn by the music? Where are they going? What are they leaving? The fox and the hare and the great white bear had seen this before. On days like this when the sea was a palette of colours; green and slate green and silver and blue, paynes grey and smalt, and glass green. They knew how the fish would rise when colours sang in the water, and they knew how each fish pulled the snow into the sky with their great fan tails, searching for dreams, carried a sliver of the old moon in their eyes, keeping the moon safe until she grew in her power to fulness again. They knew that on days like this it would seem as if the whole world were made of music and this would be where answers could be found. For a year they had been walking, together over the white, footfall after footfall, through snow, in new moon and full moon, and each of the moons with its own name, its own story. She carried her question to the edge, to ask the fish for an answer. “What,” she asked, “would have the power to call all of the birds to make a bridge of their wings to stretch across the universe?” And the fish answered, as always, with a story. It was said that he was born to the song of the nightingales, and their thrilling notes were the first music he heard. And so, from his birth, he understood the language of birds. And if some are born rich and some are born poor there are those who understand the nature of true wealth does not lie in gold, but somewhere more precious. As a babe he would lie in his cradle as his mother worked, watch the light in the leaves dance patterns across his crib and listen to the language of birds. When she worked the fields he was strapped to her back and would watch the wild geese, an autumn arrow across the sky. In spring he thrilled to the voices of oriels. And as he grew he began to help his mother, clearing the fields of stones, bending to plant rice, standing to watch the cranes dance to their own music, in the turning world. His father was often away, caring for sheep on the mountain pastures, but one day, home for a while, he took down a painted box from a high shelf. In the box, wrapped in golden silk, an intricately carved bamboo flute. He handed it to his son, who admired the object, intrigued, then gave it back to his father. And when his father raised the instrument to his lips and played the first note the boy knew he could never be a farmer. His life belonged to the flute, to music. He learned how to make his own instrument. He learned to play. Everywhere he went he carried the flute, every spare moment he practiced. And he made new flutes, from bamboo, from wood, from the bones of a swan. And with every new making the sound became richer, wilder, deeper. Now when he played the nightingales would come to listen, thread their music through his, thrilling and filling the starlight hours. When he went with his father to watch over the sheep it was said the wolves would gather to listen. There was a wild haunting ache to the young man’s music, which left within it space for the wild song of the world to enter, the voices of others, the river, the wind, the colours of butterflies and moths, wild flowers and always birdsong. It was said that his music could heal even the most broken of hearts or minds. People would gather to hear him play and it wasn’t long before musicians made pilgrimage to his door to request that he make them a flute. And so he began to make flutes for others. He would look at the person, listen closely to their colours, and know exactly how to make the best instrument to fit them perfectly. His fame spread, tales of a shepherd boy troubadour. By now he was a young man, restless in the world, spending most of his time in the mountains, charming the wolves, making laments powerful enough that the moon would stop in her tracks to listen. And this was how he came to the attention of the Emperor. The Emperor sent a summons. He wanted the boy to come and play to his daughter, struck down by a melancholy so deep she hardly ate, spending her days locked in a tall tower, refusing food, sleeping and sighing and wasting away. He offered wealth. The boy thanked him, but said he could not leave the mountains. He did not need money. The Emperor sent again, this time a command. The boy said he could not come as he was learning from the birds. The Emperor was angry. But he was also measured. He knew that a songbird in a cage does not sing as sweet as one who flies free. He commissioned a portrait of his beloved child, and sent this to the young man. The boy left the mountains, travelled over the sea, learned the music of waves, came to the Emperor’s door. Every night for seven nights he sat at the foot of the princess’ tower and played. In moonlight and starlight, as shooting stars fell he played. As the rain added a rhythm to his music he played. As the lights of the aurora danced in the sky, he played. Night birds came and added a chorus and the wind threaded through the leaves of the forest. His music became a current that was one with the river and on the seventh night the princess rose from her bed and went to the window. Notes from the flute lifted skyward, a simple, dark love song, out from the mind of the boy and into her heart. Did she fall in love from the first note that entered her dreaming mind? Probably. Was the Emperor pleased to witness the revival of his child? Yes. But....... she was betrothed to the King in the North, a treaty of great trade and power. And if that king was 60 years old, well, such was the ways of power. And if now she had fallen in love with this peasant musician, well, that had not been a part of his plan. On the eighth night there was silence. The boy had been exiled. Far away to the other side of the universe, where his music could never again reach the ears of the princess. But the Emperor, who understood wealth and the power of politics, failed to comprehend the power of music and wild magic. Far away the boy began to play. Each note summoned a bird. Each bird spread wide their wings, all the colours of a rainbow of feathers, blackbird and starling, thrush and oriel, eagle and wren, flamingo and crane, nightingale and owl, sparrow and finch, turtle dove and collared dove, gannet and heron, parrot and plover and curlew and pintail, songbird and hawk, sea bird and river bird, hummingbird and toucan. All the birds of the air sent someone, and together they made a bridge of their wings that spanned the universe, from the boy to the tower. On one side he began to walk, even as she stepped out of her window onto the wings of the dancing cranes. One wing, one step at a time, and still he played, lending the wings of the birds strength through his music, until they met at the apex of the arch, where they danced to the music of the spheres. The woman in blue thought for a while. She could hear, distant, yet clear, the music of a flute threading through the waves. She gathered the threads of the answer, thanked the fish, and began a new journey. In every story there are as many images as people who have ears to listen and hearts to hold it. If you are captivated by the story, song and imagery you may be delighted to know that limited edition prints are available to order directly from Seven Fables - the originals have recently made their swift fluid flight to an admirer and collector of Jackie's work in America. However, the prints that you see being delicately hand finished by Jackie with 'shell gold' in the film are available, marked as artist proof, AP, and signed. Delivery is available throughout the UK and overseas - please do enquire info@sevenfables.co.uk or view via the link below THE JACKIE MORRIS PRINT COLLECTION The Christmas cards are for sale exclusively from the Help Musicians website HELP MUSICIANS 'We love music and want a world where musicians thrive.' Help Musicians is a charity for professional musicians of all genres, both in work and in retirement. They offer support at times of crisis, but also at times of opportunity, giving people the help they need at the crucial stages that could make or break their career. Kerry Andrew’s latest album was published on the 3rd of November and was funded in part by Help Musicians. Entitled 'hare // hunter // moth // ghost' it comprises eleven tracks about transformation, populated by queer ghosts and magicians, storm kelpies, shapeshifting hares and foxes, pansexual kings, iconic stag-men and vengeful wolf-girls. It features lyrics by Robert Macfarlane, guest vocals from Sam Lee a nd Ben See, with words by two wonderful writers, Nick Hayes and Kerri ní Dochartaigh. To discover more and purchase the album do head over to Bandcamp. BANDCAMP: KERRY ANDREW - YOU ARE WOLF

  • October Mischief

    Last week we ran away, it was quite unplanned and not that far, for Jackie Morris came to play. We had the most wonderful, creative few days together, walking, talking, sharing tales by the fire and listening to the stags bellow as the leaf colour changed.   We stayed at a favourite place, Northmoor House , where the scullery became a dark room for playing with cyanotype, the piano a backdrop for a short film for this year's Help Musician's Christmas card, which is now in the editing stages. Northmoor has the most wonderful atmosphere, I love its long corridors, the collection of colourful carpet runners that invite you to explore, each time we visit another secret reveals itself. The textured paintwork and eclectic collection of ornaments and paintings make it feel loved & lived in. The house invites you to feel relaxed about how you use the space, it's not overly precious or crudely and unsympathetically modernised with wet rooms and hot tubs - its deep Victorian bathtubs are heaven. It is a space that inspires creativity, and I know that we are not alone as many artists and writers stay each year. A recent visitor to Seven Fables kindly gifted Christopher the chemicals to make Cyanotype - Northmoor provided the perfect space and room to play. Jan Jan went off in search of a key, and found a beauty that belonged to the log store, which in turn inspired Davina to play with keys and cats, while Jackie created paper cut outs of her distinctive doves... We took some wonderful walks along Danes Brook and to Burridge Woods leaving a labyrinth or two for others to find... Others too had been playing with stones... Amid the play we also we also did a little filming, but then we try to make life and work, a mixture of tales, art, play ... The film for Where the White Bears Dance will be released shortly so do look out for it this coming winter. We look forward to returning to Northmoor House next summer with the Wild Folk family.

  • Catching Rainbows with Jackie Morris

    Time Away for Tales, Art, Play... Five decent working days on the St David's peninsula Head shots and sea knitting Cool april airs, keening and biting Sand martins twitch and flex the shore Over pebble rise and mer-skin lore Through ransom woods and bluebell swathe Beneath ‘the chapel of colouring in’ And a twin kestrel wave With hail and calm and white morning light Tall thunder rumbles and sleepy aurora nights Gusting eaves and lichen rich branches Crab apple sprigs and over indulgent lunches Five days of decent positive drifting Druidstone grafting, always uplifting All the more special in this timeless place Over watched by standing stones and imbued with white cat grace We look forward to returning... Poem by Christopher Jelley Thank you to Jackie Morris for the photograph of Cristopher and I by the Maen Dewi standing stone All Images Copyright Seven Fables

  • Wild Folk Ramblings

    '...weather played ball and ravens danced in the air. Ponies and chough, hut circles and burial chambers. One step at a time.' Jackie Morris In February Jackie Morris and Tamsin Abbott walked with Clare Balding at St David's Head, a landscape Jackie is incredibly familiar with but only recently reunited with following her knee operation. They discuss this longed for reconnection to landscape and of course their collaboration, Wild Folk. If you missed tuning in, the programme is still currently available via BBC iPlayer... IMAGE: Tamsin Abbott and Jackie Morris at Tarr Steps Exmoor, October 2023, Davina Jelley of Seven Fables

  • Scarlet Elf-Cap

    Last we passed we spied scarlet elf-caps in this tidy copse amongst the ferns of winter they bloomed blood bright, a glade cut splinter sprouting neat from decaying elder limbs uniting acorn cups and Snow White's apple skins those spellbound peelings freckling the forest floor winking from the understory, perhaps numbering a score blooming out from the brash crisp as the woodpecker's cry secrets of Burgundy Chapel ruins so easy to wander by Scarlet Elf-Cap by Christopher Jelley of Seven Fables The ruins of Burgundy Chapel can be found near Minehead by following the wooded coast path, do seek them out if you are visiting Exmoor. Wilderness Dreaming by Tamsin Abbott Originally published in a Seven Fables newsletter March 2024 - subscribe here!

  • Who spun the blush into the morning sky?

    Who spun the blush into the morning sky Who taught the wren to both sing and fly Who tailored the suit for lord magpie It was I said the moon, coy and shy It was I said the moon, coy and shy Whose idea was it for the leaves to fall The river to spate, the summer to stall The teasels to snatch like the ravens call It was I said the moon overlooking us all It was I said the moon overlooking us all Who waits for the heron at the skimming pool Who schools the bee in the golden rules Who teaches the hare to box and duel It is I said the moon wise and cool It is I said the moon wise and cool Who convinced the owl to sing out the dusk The fox to hunt in bracken of rust The badger to truffle shrewd and robust It was I said the moon with true wanderlust It was I said the moon with true wanderlust And if the grounds swell and the airs boil asunder I shall pale from my throne at all those beauties squandered But whether I gibbous, wane, wax or wander I shall always be above spilling my wonder 'Badger Holds the Moon Aloft' Detail from original watercolour with gold leaf by Jackie Morris £4,750 Image 48.5x 29 cm Frame 63 x 43.5cm - free shipping within the UK & overseas Please do enquire info@sevenfables.co.uk 'Said the Moon' a poem by Christopher Jelley of Seven Fables Originally published in a Seven Fables newsletter February 2024 - subscribe here!

  • Move Like Water

    By Hannah Stowe Fire Crow. Sperm Whale. Wandering Albatross. Humpback Whale. Shearwater. Barnacle. Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax. Physeter macrocephalus. Diomedea exulans. Megaptera novaeangliae. Puffinus puffinus. Elminius modestus. The names of these creatures, the totemic figures that the chapters of Move Like Water follow, have become a strange sort of chant, repeated inside my head over and over. Each is a waypoint, a marker of both the physical and emotional navigation that is Move Like Water. The thread, the story, that runs through it all, entwined with the natural world, is a very human experience. When I first started writing the book, it was for you. Move Like Water was to be an ocean that you could hold in your hands, a book to sweep you away from the shore, into a wild world of water, whale, storm, starlight, and all that is the sea. I wanted you to feel the majesty that it is to share breath with the great whales, the resonant presence when the dark tall dorsal of an orca cuts through the water. I wanted you to see in your minds eye the jewelled droplets that streak down the rorqual lines of humpback whales as they breach through the skin of the sea and up into the air. I wanted you to experience what it was like, to sail for weeks at a time, day and night, with life set to a new rhythm, before returning to the shore once again. These are all things that I have experienced, through my career as a young sailor and marine biologist studying cetaceans from sailing boats. In my writing, I wanted to highlight how the oceans shape all of our lives, from how they connect the continents, to providing us with the air we breathe as phytoplankton fix carbon in the surface waters. We think of forests, of the Amazon rainforest, as the lungs of our planet, when really, most of this oxygen comes from the sea. Human health is ocean health, and vice versa. As vast and powerful as our seas are, so is the possibility for us to harm them. For centuries, we have viewed the seas as a boundless resource. With one hand, we would take fish from the sea for food, with the other, we would discard our waste beneath the waves. Move Like Water explores the historical scars that whaling and overfishing have left on the seas, the effects of bycatch that are still drowning our cetaceans and seabirds. They are unwanted consequences, snagged in nylon, brought up in gill nets designed to reap swathes of fish from the seas. Once they are hauled ashore, they are discarded, worthless, with no commercial value. I explore how the speed of our lifestyles is adding more and more sound to the seas everyday as tankers move our food and goods around the world, their engines roaring, drowning out the swooping melodies of humpback song. I examine how, through our reliance on fossil fuels and the subsequent climate change, we are changing the very chemistry of the oceans as their pH falls towards acidity. These are all difficult and complex issues, that require different methods to stem or reverse the tide of damage. The key to all of them is action. Move Like Water seeks to educate and empower, and should leave you with a message of hope, helping you go forward to work for the sea, along the path that is most resonant for you as an individual. This is what I hope that Move Like Water can do for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what the process of writing the book would do for me. I suppose the work began, in its very early stages, as the field notes and illustrated journal entries I would keep while I was sailing. I started to work at sea when I was 18, on the shores of my childhood home in Pembrokeshire. It wasn’t long before I found myself sailing across the North Sea, on a 95 year old wooden boat, and then surveying northern bottlenose whales from a sailing boat off the coast of Canada. I split my time between sailing and university, studying for a degree in Marine Biology and Ecology. Once I had my BSc, I was working on a sailing boat devoted to conducting cetacean surveys and occasionally hosting film crews making natural history documentaries about the whales. We had just finished working on one of these documentaries, filming sperm whales in the Azores in the summer of 2019. Watching the creative process was equal parts fascinating and frustrating for me. It was incredibly interesting, but the storyteller in me started to ache. I had spent my professional life sailing, and studying these whales. I wanted to use my voice, to add to the stories that were being told, but I didn’t know exactly how. The sail back from the Azores to the UK took around twelve days. There were only three of us, sailing a twenty-one meter boat, and we rotated in watches, sailing day and night. This meant that apart from the meals we ate together, we were largely alone. I would spend three hours on deck, with six hours to rest, before the process was repeated. Although we had left the island archipelago behind in bright sunlight, that first night, a ferocious storm had broken. When I think back on that voyage, in all my memory of it, it was a very dark sail. The winds and waves whipped at night, and in the day, the sun never broke through the dense grey cloud until we had passed north of Biscay and into the English Channel. For this whole journey, the words for Move Like Water were beginning to form into a coherent idea for a book proposal. Immediately on returning to the UK, I travelled to London, and pitched the earliest iteration to Jessica Woollard, who is now my agent. From there, the real work began. In 2017, I suffered a spinal injury while surfing in Scotland. The turmoil that followed, the surgery, and the recovery formed a pivotal part of my personal story. Everything that preceded that day, and everything that came after felt entirely different. It was the first time I found myself physically removed from the water. Although I could sometimes take dips when accompanied, there was a barrier of accessibility that I had not previously experienced. There are seasons in the seas, just as there are on land. At the world’s poles, North and South, winter brings a constant darkness. The diatoms, members of the phytoplankton that fix carbon in the sea go dormant as sun remains below the horizon during these months, just as seeds do in the earth when the frosts form. The outer bodies of the diatoms harden, and they sink through the layers of sea into the depths, waiting, waiting, until the light returns. This was such a season for me, where resilience and waiting become a necessity. The spring brought an energy like no other. As my physical strength grew, so did my need to push myself. I felt that I had just been through an incredibly challenging time, and was now ready to choose challenges for myself. My sailing career accelerated, as I found myself taking on a new job, and qualified as a skipper in my own right. When I started writing Move Like Water , I knew this would have to be an integral part of the narrative of the book. Much of my life so far has been shaped by the water, and now my body physically had. Although I had explored what had happened, and settled it in my own thoughts, I was nervous about how I would write about such a turbid time for a public audience. For all of my best laid plans of how to approach it, life had other designs. On July 27th, 2022, it will be exactly one year since I last went sailing. My partner and I had just got home from sailing from Cornwall along the English Channel across the North Sea, through the Kiel Canal, all the way to the Baltic Sea. Although both of us have sailed extensively, it was our first time in the Baltic. We spent balmy summer days at anchor, swimming from the boat and reading on the deck. The day we came into port was perfect. I had no idea that it would be the last day I would sail for over a year, but it was perfect. The weather was warm, with a steady breeze on the beam. Our boat flew along, the main sheeted out on a reach as we sailed in the sun . As we approached our final harbour, the skies opened, and lightening split the sky. We were soaked to the skin, laughing in the deluge as we came alongside to tie the boat up. The whole harbour was decorated for the Hanse sail, one of the largest sailing festivals in Europe, bright flags waving in the evening sun. A few days later after returning home, I turned over in the night, and tore a damaged disc. From there, things progressed quickly to a very unstable place. It has been a year since I have been particularly physically able. A year since I have been managing chronic pain. A year of having to balance work with hospital appointments. A year of cancelling plans. A year of multiple treatments. A year of getting my hopes up. A year of nothing working. There have been moments that have been incredibly bright, where I have been overwhelmed by the exceptional kindness of others, and the strength of human connection. There have been moments that are too difficult to speak about. There are oddly painful interactions where a stranger looks you up and down, assessing how sick you look, a strange scrutiny of an injury invisible to them. A year of writing Move Like Water. Although the experiences of the last year are far from how I imagined I would write the book, they have brought with them unexpected depths to the prose. Although my original intention was to use the words to transport you out to sea, I found that I also needed to transport myself there. I have been able to scoop myself up, reliving experiences of sailing in the North Atlantic being showered my sperm whale breath in the night, researching northern bottlenose whales. Although I was at home with an aching back, I could once more climb mast steps on strong healthy limbs to perch in a crow’s nest, watching sperm whales surface from deep dives to meet their calves in the sunlit waters, in front of the volcanic islands that are the Azores. I would lie in a hospital bed, imagining how it must be for them, as they flick their flukes to the sky, and dive down from sunlit waters, into twilight, into darkness, the weight of the ocean above them, as they use sound to hunt for squid. I could feel the heat of the Mediterranean, the salty sea spray on my face that would dry to coarse white crystals. I felt the quiet inky hours, sailing in starlight, with no space for thought beyond the night, the wind, the sails of a boat. As I am writing this, I am getting ready for my second surgery. As you are reading it, I will likely be recovering. Fire Crow. Sperm Whale. Wandering Albatross. Humpback Whale. Shearwater. Barnacle. The creatures I have spent so much time with during the process of the lived experience behind the book, the research, and the writing. Their names bring a comforting, quiet resonance. I repeat them over and over. They bring me hope, confidence. Move Like Water has almost reached the end of its creative journey. Soon, it will no longer be mine, but go out into the world to be yours. It has done more for me than I could have imagined. It has seemed at times like something inevitable. A full stop at the end of a period of time. I think writing it was the last stretch of the journey it follows. Although my current circumstances are difficult, and unsettled, it has bought me so much calm for the journey ahead. Move Like Water will be published next June by Granta Books. Copies will of course be available from our shelves at Seven Fables and Hannah plans to join us for an event at some point following its publication. I have had the privilege of reading a passage from Move Like Water, and how she describes swimming with her mother, Jackie Morris, within the shadow of Ramsey Island is truly beautifully. Granta describe her book as: '...a beguiling and beautiful work of non-fiction about our human relationship with the sea and the creatures who inhabit it. Born beneath the sweep of a lighthouse beacon on the Pembrokeshire coast, Stowe is a marine biologist, sailor and artist and this book draws on her research at sea as well as her experience of sailing through some of the planet’s most varied waters. The book is underpinned by a powerful environmental message, but Stowe’s argument is made through the stories she tells – about swimming with her mother as a child, about listening to whale song, about being at sea at night – all of which encourage readers to fall in love with the seas as she has, to appreciate their majesty and their vulnerability. Deputy Publishing Director Laura Barber commented: ‘Hannah’s proposal captured my imagination from the first page, which featured one of her magical pen and ink drawings of a sperm whale, and her prose is just as bewitching. This heartfelt hymn to the sea promises to be an unforgettable introduction to one of the most gifted nature writers of the new generation.’ To discover more about Hannah's writing and support her creative process you may subscribe to her monthly digital publication, The Peregrination. Alongside Hannah's prose, poetry, and artwork, it also features other artists and writers, snippets of travel, book recommendations and curiosities she has encountered in the hope that it as intriguing to the reader as it is for her to create. 'The shelves are awash with sea books. But Stowe is different. She doesn't just watch and describe the sea; she's part of it. It surges inside her and crashes out onto the page. The book's drenched with salt water. It fizzes, clicks, booms and screams. Tremendous.' Charles Foster Writers naturally tend to read, a lot, so we asked Hannah for a few recommendations... Words and images copyright Hannah Stowe 2022

  • The Swan Maiden

    Peaceful words and golden beauty from the studio of Tamsin Abbott The swan maiden as afterlife guide has gained power in my life and work over the last few years.  I wrote the poem and then I needed to make the work for the poem. This is it. I still feel the gentle brush of the swan maiden’s breast feathers. I hope she will carry me when my time comes. My heart becomes so full with this... Earth blind, I see nothing, hear nothing, but I am not nothing. I am golden, suffused with light, a new being- scattered, complete I am labyrinth journeying into Earth . Symbols surround me, guide me. They guide me through mycelium, through root, to tree, through branch. The ravens call me. The ravens call me Heavenward. Like a breath I surface. I am one I am many. I am one I am many. Gathering. Dispersing. I hear the whispers of trees, the language of birds, the sighing of grasses, and then… Swan maiden Wind rushing through feathers. She catches me like moats of dust, droplets of dew on her breast, and flies me home. *THIS PIECE IS NOW SOLD VIEW TAMSIN'S WORK HERE

  • Wild Folk: Tales from the Stones

    An atmospheric walk with Tamsin Abbott and Jackie Morris... Earlier this month we had the most fabulous, wet wet walk in the rain making plans for the launch event and exhibition of Wild Folk that we are to host in the summer of 2025. I wanted to show Tamsin Abbott and Jackie Morris the standing stone on our dear friend Jilly's farm as I felt it to be a fitting location for a reading and summer event to celebrate this exciting collaboration. We had gathered at Northmoor House once again, and it was such a joy to return, to be where Wild Folk was conceived a year earlier. To mark the anniversary, Unbound broadcast a live zoom from 'the kitchen' at Seven Fables with John Mitchinson, Jackie Morris and Tamsin Abbott in conversation, sharing the writing and illustrating process as they work towards publishing Wild Folk. The conversation was filmed with plans to make it available to Wild Folk supporters who were unable to tune in live. Do visit the Unbound website to discover more, the funding tipped at 200% that week which was also cause for celebration! Suffice to say, Jackie and Tamsin of course appreciated the setting, even the weather, with Jackie leaving the gift of a gilded labyrinth. The standing stone is quite unique for Exmoor due to its height, as many in the moorland landscape are so low lying, they can barely be spotted above the cotton grass. Despite the rain creatures were abound as we walked the landscape, a hare leapt from its warm form, a heron rose above the river, a fox crept along the tree line while in the distance a stag bellowed revealing himself on the horizon, all called by a little summoning perhaps? On our return to the farmhouse we warmed ourselves in Jilly's kitchen with delicious hot soup and chocolate cake before heading 'home' to Northmoor House via Tarr Steps, which I feel is always best visited on a rainy day. Jackie and Tamsin were thrilled with our proposed event and Seven Fables' newsletter subscribers will of course be the first to be notified of our plans for June 2025, and when tickets are made available, there is of course still much to pull together at this midpoint of the project. Thank you, Jilly, for making us all so welcome, we look forward to returning, and just to let you all know we did get a little sunshine during our stay at Northmoor!

  • 21st Birthday Celebrations!

    Saturday 7th October 2023 A joyful, wonderful, smile filled, busy, busy day... Such a memorable day, thank you to the 'Fable Folk' who were able to join us to celebrate in the October sunshine, and those who sent well wishes from near and far. The bunting looked fabulous and certainly set the scene, one of colour, exuberance and creativity. It was lovely to see our customers connect with one another, sharing their appreciation of Seven Fables - we couldn't wish for a more vibrant community of customers whose on-going support is cause for celebration - thank you. Our thanks, and love to Jackie Morris who was kept busy in the kitchen, gilding labyrinth stones, signing books and creating a little magic with her own inimitable style. Our visitors certainly departed inspired, many with the unexpected gift of a gilded stone clasped tightly... 'An acorn fell to the ground, a seed full of hope and possibilities, it put out roots, then a shoot and leaves slowly unfurled. Twenty one years later it is a magnificent oak that is known as Seven Fables. Thank you for creating such a haven of joy, magic and inspiration with a hint of mischief. Congratulations.' FJ 'So beautiful, so magical, a wonderful day filled with love and creativity…thank you with the whole of my heart Seven Fables and Jackie Morris…' LLB 'To everyone at Seven Fables, I just wanted to say a big thank you for the warm welcome I received yesterday when I attended your 21st celebration, it meant a lot. I wish I could bottle the atmosphere that you have on these occasions because it is truly special, I am still feeling the warm afterglow. Wishing you all many more happy birthdays and thank you again.' LK We look forward to celebrating our 25th birthday with you in 2027! XXXXXXX

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