Dense stands of Britain’s most common fern, Pteridium aquilinum, bracken, carpet the floor of the woodlands near where I live, marking the progress of the year. Their tightly curled fronds appear in spring, slowly but inexorably unfurling into three large, triangular fronds which wave and susurrate in the summer breeze before dying back in the autumn to leave a rusty brown matting.
Sculptural,…
"Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide.
And we fairies that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic."
Escaping for an evening to the island we sang, drank, and made merry on the rocks and waves. It is a custom to carry home a coal of the Midsummer bonfire for luck. All of this week I have held close the warmth and friendship from the fire we tended, and I feel lucky indeed.