Monday morning walk bright and breezy. A return to normal-ish February temperatures after last week's peak peeked into the twenties, we are now back to wearing a coat and a hat. Evidence of heavy overnight rain; inescapable path-wide puddles, meant I could experience the funny spectacle of Polly, the pointer-lab gun dog, who, whilst loving a swim, isn't particularly enamoured by puddle wading, and thus adopts a weird little leg swing in an attempt to avoid getting ankle deep in water. I never tire of seeing her do this, it's just peculiar. Funny little thing.
The rain also meant an epic worm-rescuing mission, washed to the top of their earthly burrows and out onto the tarmac. Too many to rescue , I apologise to those for whom my rescuing fingers arrived too late, their little pink heads and tails floating in the puddles. Of the twenty-six species of British earthworms, I couldn't really identify more than one or two, but they were all pink. A morning feast for the birds. Today, I actually saw a robin sing Framed against the blue sky, it tilted its tiny head upwards, opened its beak, and threw skyward the most glorious song. So that's what a robin song sounds like. Of course, I know this. Now I have this beautiful image in my head, every time I hear a robin sing, I will have a permanent visual accompaniment of loveliness.
Today was a lucky treasure day. I collected two items, one because of the other. Two items about as far removed from one another in form and origin as it is physically possible to be. Across the reclaimed landfill site, as is part of my daily walk, I spied a tiny fluttering. Surely not a butterfly yet? Who knew, all sorts of other crazy things are happening. I left the path and walked some twenty metres towards the spot where I'd noticed the movement. Nothing, it was still. As I glanced around, I spotted a perfectly formed leaf skeleton. You! You fluttered and danced into my line of vision. It had enticed me across the mud. I bent and picked it up. You're coming home with me! A small tear down the centre vein sealed the true imperfection of perfection. The intricate lace networked across my palm, a tiny corner of leaf membrane remained, ash-like in colour and texture. As my mind wandered to screen printing, stencils, cutting, colour, printing, more printing, curtains? Possibly? Inks, paint. More paint. I pocketed the tiny treasure. Laying it carefully, smoothing it flat against the soft, equally delicate fabric of my right pocket and gently fastening the popper shut. Making my way back to the yellow hardcore path, I noticed the unmistakably vibrant glint of copper carbonate.
Verdigris: /ˈvəːdɪɡriː,ˈvəːdɪɡriːs/ noun: a bright bluish-green encrustation or patina formed on copper or brass by atmospheric oxidation, consisting of basic copper carbonate.
Beautiful muted colour, copper against green, Greece, vibrant, sea green, sky, water, some rust. I love rust. I would actually paint my whole house this colour. A small piece of circuit board. Man's attempt to create a brain. Names for collages invaded my brain. Man-made Treasure Board. Treasure Board? Circuit creations..... It has to come home with me, obviously. After a thorough examination, its toothed edges, its white geometrical city street map circuitry, its flat, angular form and cutting edges of technology and copper, in sharp, pointed contrast to my first find, I contemplated pocketing the piece, realising as I do so, that this, contrary to the leaf, would potentially tear the delicate fabric of my coat and/or my skin. Mankind isn't as kind as nature, although that could be debated. I could always just carry it home, but then my hands would get cold. It's only just March and golly that wind blows a chill. Into my left pocket goes the circuit board fragment. Placed equally as carefully as the leaf, but to protect not it, but me and my garment. Popper shut. Now with pockets full of treasure, I still have cold hands. I tighten them into fists and wrap them in the cuffs of my coat. Adequate. Not so bad. I have treasure!!!!
I am an avid self-confessed womble and collector of treasure and, well, rubbish. I have all sorts of 'stuff'. One of my prize pieces is a cog, possibly from a broken gearbox, which ended up on the roadside. How did it get there? Did it fall off a wagon, or off the back of a wagon? Anyway, it's mine now. I am also the proud owner of a Roman marble. At least that's what I call it. A small, round carved stone, perfect in its orbital shape, a pinkish grey colour, as true marble. Maybe. Another treasured item of mine, is a fossilised prehistoric bison tooth. Again, possibly? I did the 'burn test' and it didn't smell of dentition, so hopefully it's not just the remnants of some poor cow. Actually I have two of those. Both found on the same beach in South Shields. I really hope it is a fossil and not just some careless picnicking bovine lost its nashers.
More of my geological finds include uncountable fragments of rock. Raw haematite (actually that was a gift from a Lakeland miner), fossilised coral, a lump of fool's gold, geodes, some Teesdale slate amonites, small pieces of Greece, fossilised shells, all evidence of my Geotourism. I never fail to arrive back home with a suitcase full of rocks. I have to be careful not to go over my baggage allowance. Should one declare rocks at Customs? Maybe after Brexit. What do you have in luggage madam? Oh, just half of Greece....... Bits of furniture, hooks, handles, knobs and knockers, wheels, keys without a lock, locks without a key, beads, wire, deeply textured fibre glass boat bits, driftwood... (there is a whole new tale), boxes and boxes of treasure. Boxes! Boxes are both the treasure and the holders of treasure. I am a Collector of Boxes and a Collector of the Contents. Things of the sea, hooks, glass, sea glass, sea weed, old rope, net, tumbled brick, ceramics, telling the tale of a hundred thousand tides.
My treasure is worth nothing to anyone but me, but to me it is worth everything. It is treasure to me because it tells me tales of bygone lives, years, eras. Within, or outwith living memory, yesterday or light years ago. What it is not, is tomorrow. Captured in boxes, words and images. Small pieces of history contained in an infinite number of thoughts and ideas, tiny pieces of Universal energy. Evidence!!! Evidence that I exist, right here, right now. Could they pinpoint my exact time of existence in my current lifetime, through an examination of my treasure? My circuit board brain is overloaded with the mere idea of that! Yes! Could I catalogue it all chronologically? Off I go again..............