Diving Into Life

There are certain times in my life when I’ve had to dive right in … can’t hold back  …  and with no idea of what will eventuate.

That feeling of trepidation reminds me of the Grimm’s tale, Mother Holle, a significant story told to children as part of their Steiner (Waldorf) education.

A woman had two daughters, a beautiful step-daughter who was helpful and hard working, while her own daughter was ugly and lazy.

I imagined I was the good step-daughter diving in to retrieve the spindle I had dropped down the well. Here I go head first.


The good daughter wakes up in a beautiful meadow. And it is here in the story,  that a strong part of me, says “Enough! This isn’t my story. I’m nobody’s household drudge” Just like the ugly daughter! (See Grimm for the remainder of their tale). In truth, at this point of my life, I am feeling lazy; part of me has always loved to be lazy!

I want to stay in the simple pleasures of the meadow. I need to daydream.


I have loved meadows and wild fields,  since I was a small child. Wading through swishing, long grass pied with flowers, to the sound of bird song, was like being in a dream .

IMG_2476 Spring was my favourite season: buttercups and apple blossom.


I’ve wandered through clover and dandelions in different countries accompanied by an Exaltation of Skylarks.

whale bridge 020

I have sighed over fields in each season of the year.


I have delighted in wandering again along familiar paths made by other feet.


I remember being thrilled to get really close to the ground.

IMG_2536Being close to Nature, makes me feel I’m home. I think part of me will always be a Happy Wanderer, no matter where I am.


Where is it that you feel most at home?



GRIMMS’ tales for young and old. Translated by Ralph Manheim. New York, Doubleday, 1977.

All photos, art and text by Meg

 Story Twigs …! by Meg Philp is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.




Making Peace : Addendum

I mentioned in my last post that my father had good timing at odd times. Here’s one more instance for the road!

It was May, 1992. The family were on holiday together in Minorca, a small island in the Mediterranean. We were just leaving a restaurant after a late dinner and we were surprised at how dark it was outside – not a light for miles and no moon. The seven of us stood in the light of the doorway, trying to get our bearings, when Dad called out for us all to be quiet.

“Listen!” he urged as he pointed out into the dark.

A soft breeze wafted up from the fields, and I could make out the dark density of trees, a field away. Then I heard it. A solitary bird singing effortlessly; a song I’d never heard before, in a pattern I couldn’t discern. It was mesmerising – we all stood stock still, till the birdsong ended and slowly turned to look back at Dad.

“THAT…” he said, beaming proudly, ” is a nightingale.”



Listening to bird calls

Here’s a sound clip from the British Library, so that you, too, can say you’ve heard a nightingale sing. (You might have to refresh the link.)

Luscinia megarhynchos : Nightingale – Turdidae.


The British Library http://sounds.bl.uk/JISC ASR IPR STATUS LIST.xls Luscinia megarhynchos : Nightingale – Turdidae W1CDR0001378 BD8

All text by Meg

Story Twigs …! by Meg Philp is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License