Jinny’s Tonic No. 7

Rachael Matthews

James Henry Pullen, ‘Study After the State Barge’, 1867.

Director of the Restoration Trust, Laura Drysdale, told us about her charity – connecting people with mental problems with heritage and creativity so that their mental health improves. She spoke about walking with intent, and the Trust’s programme of cultural and archaeological walks for mental health, Human Henge.

With walks scheduled on the Spring Equinox and harvest moon, and quiet ceremonies held inside Stonehenge and Avebury, the Human Henge project brought to mind the new publication Weird Walk. An instant cult hit, Weird Walk champions wanderings and wonderings from the British Isles, featuring folklore, poetry, standing stones, rambling and medieval graffiti.

Rosemary Lee - Passage for Par, 2018

Choreographer and film maker Rosemary Lee’s work is characterised by an interest in creating moving portraiture of the performing communities she brings together, whilst also exploring and highlighting our relationship with the environment, be it urban or rural.

Rosemary’s aim is to increase performers’ and observers’ attentiveness to their senses. Being aware of themselves both in time and space. A belief that the more aware you are of your body,
the more aware you are of your environment.

Passage for Par, 2018

“At the turn of the tide 30 women rhythmically snake their way across the tidal landscape, tracing meandering pathways through the wet sand, their outlines etched against the sea and sky.”

Rosemary visited many of Cornwall’s most beautiful beachesbefore deciding to work on Par Sands. She chose Par because of its dramatic contrasts – between the industry of Par Docks andthe green slopes of Gribbin Head – and because of the exceptional beauty of the tidal expanse, with its glittering deposits of quartz and mica. It is typically frequented by locals and dog-walkers
rather than tourists.

James Henry Pullen, ‘Study After the State Barge’, 1867.

Mary Oliver


In the deep fall

don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,

warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.