Dogs and caves

and hibernation

(written on Boxing Day) Missing the hound I went up to the cave to be in stillness today. The Hermit’s cave at Dale Abbey is dark and almost womb-like within. That’s exactly how I have felt lately. In the womb. Hibernation mode. Hermit energy. I've just slept and been silent.

This cave lies perched upon a sligh rocky outcrop in ancient woodland on the edge of Derbyshire. In spring these woods are carpeted with wild flowers, the promise of coming bluebells and the scent of wild garlic hangs thick in the air.

I’ve been coming here with my Nanna since I was small. My sister and I were close to our grandparents and were always at their house during the school holidays. I honestly don't recall much of those trips here, whether we came to these woods for the garlic or if we even went to the cave at all. We must have come to walk my grandpa's dog. I do have faint recollections of picking elderflowers for champagne.

The important thing is keeping the line going. Heeding the call of one's ancestors and carrying on these rituals, these trips, days out and yearly traditions. Something for our descendants yet to come. We may not understand WHY we went, but the main thing is that we did.

Every year since about 2019 (I think…?) I've led walks at Yuletide to the caves where we have sung folk carols as well as the more well known ones. I never know who will turn up but usually we get a fair few folkies who bring their special carols too, complete with song sheets (which is always appreciated).

I also bring groups here in the spring for plant ID, mainly to collect the wild garlic but to just be in this scared space too, especially when we sing at full moon.

This year, apart from the fact that I’m full of cold (a sure shock symptom from the events of 3 weeks ago, exactly 3 weeks since my beloved hound left us) I also didn't feel very festive nor like organising anything.

Still reeling after losing precious Lucius, my shining hound (I wrote “singing hound” by mistake at first, which was actually true at times) I went up today with just Luna. She is amazing and is just as well behaved/trained as LuLu. (He did most of the training I am sure.)

She always boggers off (as we say round here) after a pheasant (or any slight noise in the bushes) but will always return when I call her. I let her have a run in the adjacent field before going up to the cave. It was really foggy today. Felt like I was completely alone there. And I LOVED it!!

So, so still. Not a soul in sight. No noise. Not even the motorway or roads a little way off. Just so silent and gloomy. A bit how I felt really.

We trudged up the stairs to the cave and it was magical as usual. Tried singing a couple of songs but did not turn out well with this cold.

Then the birds suddenly started to all sing - signalling dusk. The sun must have just gone down. You would never know that the sun even exists today, what with the thick fog, but there is always hope knowing that behind the gloom and darkness lies the brightest light.

Photo by Karl Magnuson on Unsplash

Rather than go back down to the village I lingered a while longer in the cave and left at the last minute possible before it got too dark to see. I have said before that I am “crepuscular”, like a ferret. This time of day really is the absolute best. Better put Luna on the lead now, I thought, as we passed by a few horses in the field next to the church. She is desperately nosy.

It was lovely being out with her but also so strange. It was always the both of the dogs together, with us all. I know she’ll take over the mantel as protector. She’s honestly not much of a guard dog but she always keeps watch and is at my side. She’s half collie so enjoys herding too.

Back down to the van at the pub so I went in for a coffee and mince pie before driving up the tops and through the thick fog to wend my way home.

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I'm a folk singer based in Nottingham, England and also known as The Bread Witch for my Community Bread Baking project 🍞🥖

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