charles barrow's writing

I grew a terracotta pot full of ranunculus once, many years ago. It was a glorious sight and bought joy to my heart. The cultivated ranunculus, or ranunculus asiaticus, or Persian Buttercup, is indeed related to the common buttercup, but is a much larger plant, has a tight whorl of petals, and comes in a variety of colours - pink, orange, yellow, white, or red, as opposed to the primarily yellow, open face of the smaller, wild buttercup that sprouts every year on the lawns outside. My favourite colour of ranunculus is orange. It is the vibrant, vivid orange of the marigold, the California poppy, the Solero ice lolly. I've attached a photo of some orange California poppies that I grew last year, to give you an idea of the colour I'm talking about here. That first pot of ranunculus I grew was wildly successful. I think because I grew it back then in complete ignorance of just how fussy a plant a ranunculus is. The soil, the moisture and the temperature levels have all got to be ...

Not a good month for me, on a personal level. In fact, the last eight months have brought loss and grief and anxiety on a large scale. This month brought more terrible news, and still more lurks on the near horizon. January is always a long, dark month to be gotten through, but this one is the darkest in memory. So I have been particularly grateful when I have happened upon something that has brought a little light and positivity into my life, and has taken me out of my day-to-day. Books (IQ84 Murakami), films (Wonka), nature (planting Spring bulbs), and wildlife (taking part in the Big Garden Birdwatch) have all helped to get me through. And a big help, from an unexpected quarter was the night sky. The freezing, cloudless nights through early to mid-January, afforded me a wonderful view of the Wolf Moon as it transformed from a fingernail fragment to a full moon over the course of weeks, and what made it even more special was the dazzlingly bright planet Venus hanging in the sky behin...

'The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The next best time to plant a tree is today.' African proverb. I've adopted a tree. A Turkish Hazel. It was planted, earlier this year, in the grass verge opposite my house. It took me a couple of months to notice that there was a QR code attached to the metal cage surrounding the tree, protecting it from the wind and, more probably, drunken vandal damage. I scanned the code with my phone, something I've never done before without adult supervision. It took me to a dedicated website that told me the tree's story; age, seasonal appearance, prospective height/width etc and where I also found a plea for assistance. Would I help this tree by agreeing to water it? If so, it would need 20 litres of water a week throughout the growing season (March-Oct). This seemed like quite a responsibility, for one as distracted as me, who struggles sometimes to keep myself fed and watered, but after only a short period of reflection (less...

I go out walking daily, regardless of the weather. I walk by the sea, mostly, but do have a shorter more local walk, through the park, if the weather is especially inclement. I walk for exercise, for the fresh air, to clear my head, to give myself thinking time, creative energy, and to just 'be' in nature and monitor the seasonal changes that can easily be missed during a fast walk to the station, or a struggle back from the supermarket with an overladen bag. And while I walk I sing to myself, under my breath, sometimes more loudly if I've checked behind and know that no one else will hear me. Sometimes one song will lodge in my head for weeks and become the oft repeated soundtrack to my walks. Often that can be just a snatch of verse and the chorus of a song, stuck on repeat, which, after a while becomes annoying, as any song stuck on repeat would annoy, and I have to make a conscious effort to shift it. Mostly this can be achieved by simply replacing it with another song,...

More than a week of January has passed already. It's usually such a long (seeming) month that it's a blessing that a quarter of it has passed before I really noticed. The weather has been continually wet since the new year began, and I've been feeling rather under par since Christmas, so what outdoor exercise I've managed to get between showers has been welcome but short lived. I have, however, very much enjoyed catching many signs of an emerging spring - emerald spears of the early daffodil, crocus and snowdrop. Songbirds singing to ward off trespassers in their territory, and nest building. Buds on the hydrangea. All of these things help to lift my spirits. My mental health has not been good recently, so I've actively been thinking about what does bring me joy, and what brings the dark clouds into my life. I'm making lists. It's difficult to find any consistency when it comes to self care, it has to be worked at. And life has a tendency to poke a stick in ...

Okay so the last couple of weeks have been tough ones for me - mental health wise. I was motoring along quite well, beforehand, and then I hit a brick wall. It's really not uncommon that this is the way it happens, which I suppose makes it a pattern for me. There was no particular big event, or inciting incident if you will, that tipped me over into depression, just a drip, drip of small things that added to the pool of worries and anxieties (if they aren't the same thing), and suddenly I can't get off the sofa. I'm single, so it's easy not to have to get up, get dressed, leave the flat. There is no-one to chivvy me along. I don't work at the moment so I have nowhere to get to by 9am, and no one to call me for missing my shift. And I recently moved to a town where almost no one knows me, just a couple of folk I say hello to in the communal hallways of the building where I live. So it's really easy for me to just not participate in the day. I'm in a kind ...

Well, happy to report that the short story I wrote about in the February posting entitled Emergence, got chosen for publication in a Sussex Wildlife Trust anthology of writing to celebrate spring. The anthology is called Emergence. If you'd like to read it you can do just that via this link  Sussex Wildlife Trust It was a very quick turnaround. The submission deadline was February 28th and I received the email to say the anthology had been published on Friday 15th April. Very speedy then, as these things go. It's always good news to get something published. Except your own Obituary, maybe. I've been trying to work on building a portfolio of published writing, in a variety of places, and it's been slow going I'll admit. This is the fourth thing I've had accepted for publication, so I'm happy about it. It's done wonders for my confidence, and my state of mind, when I struggle sometimes to believe that I'm any good at writing at all. I intend to focus m...

A short story I had high hopes of getting published just got rejected. It was a kindly rejection, as these things go - I was let down far more lightly than I have been in the past by some people who professed to love me - but it was still 'No thanks. Nah.' Happy to say I'm not crushed this time, which is growth of sorts. I think this is because I have another story nearing completion, for an anthology of writings about Spring. This short story, at its heart, is full of optimism then, like the season itself, so maybe my mood is just aligned with that, and has somewhat bullet proofed me against disappointments. The submission rules dictate a 150 word limit for the story. With some judicious editing (read merciless) of the first couple of drafts I'm currently resting at 149 words. A joyous position to be in because when you have so few words to play with, so few bricks with which to build a three dimensional world, having one to spare is like finding a £20 note in your jac...

Lockdown has forced many of us to live more insular lives. We've been confined to our homes, and been unable to socialise with others, unless it's been remotely, online. We've been unable to venture out into the wider world, and so that world, at least for me, has shrunk to the size of a laptop screen. That screen is now the window through which I look to find my entertainment, my inspiration, and my news. But a lot of that news has been very troubling and downright disturbing. The virus is still lurking and waiting to spike again, despite government reassurances. Images of police brutality against another black man fill my screen, and despite an outpouring of righteous anger in cities across the globe, our leaders don't appear to be listening to the people, or perhaps they just don't care, and think they can ride it out because anger will always burn back down to a simmer. It's hard to be saturated with this news and not roil with frustration, resentment, and f...