The Heartwood Institute

@heartwood9.bsky.social

Home of The Heartwood Institute and associated projects.

Autumn comes to the cottages with carpets of apple rot that sour the air with vinegar tang. Comes in a dressing of the year not in green gowns, but wounded rags of brown. It comes as a fear of early darkness. A terror of hungry spirits that rush the path. – #DAKilory, 1982

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Atop a legendary hollow hill you may see a historic patchwork of fields, a green and pleasant. You would not be wrong seeing this. However, you could look out an enchanted landscape of ghost soil, a place rich with the promise of strange adventures. – The Phoenix Guide to Strange England

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Old corpse roads, old wraith ways – where bodies were carried from distant communities to churches and cemeteries – are now rarely used for their earlier purpose. This doesn't stop hikers following lych paths, dead lines. This doesn't stop them being spectral highways. – Dr. M. Benn, 1982

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We went into this place, its a high place, has all sorts of things there & up stairs there is an inside Tea Room very big, & the floor on the very Top is a Tea Room & gardens, its the only one in the world as high up as this; a roof garden, its so pretty, its hard to believe that its a roof garden.

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The Pylon People – AKA the Children of The Hum – were labelled as everything from 'a very English apocalypse cult' to 'filthy hippies unable to keep still'. Few understood their continuous pilgrimage, their strange navigations directed by the humming lines above. – Dr. M. Benn

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I never visited #Hookland at the same time the Children of the Hum were walking the lines - I was too busy being born in the year of the last free festival - but it's nice to follow their footsteps from the common down to the coast in the hope of catching an echo of the magic they heard.

Electricity pylons stretching off into the distance in a perfect lin above a thorny hedge.

The white bone horse of summer is starting to become mere memory of its Midsummer dancing. Some villages will welcome it again as Mummer steed, plague play cameo. One last dance and clip-clopping of the ways before the brutal heat ends, before we stoop and walk towards winter.

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Today is full of magics. You don’t need to read about others experiences, you don’t need to capture your own to share. Today, just bathe in it all. Harvest your own omens, revel in whatever blessings the day offers. Refuse to be part of the mediated spectacle. Find your own primal wonder. #Solstice