Some thoughts here on Knowle, by young and old, from the Art and Writing project organised by Mike Temple and Frances Deegan. A selection from the 221 entries has been published in the Sidmouth Herald (Extolling Knowle). Here’s a small sample in case you missed them:
As soon as you step in (by Elliot Wright, aged 10)
As soon as you step in,
birds tweet,
squirrels scuttle,
rabbits twitch
and trees sway.
As soon as you step in,
foxes scram,
badgers burrow.
Children laugh
and the king of the Knowle stands firm and strong
and for generations it’s watched life grow and go….
The words of my Special Tree (by Hanna Benny Areeckal, aged 7)
I am a special Ginkgo tree and I am very old. You can call me ‘Ginki’.
I am very friendly to everybody and I love everyone. I have got yellowish and greenish leaves. My granddad and my grandma are about millions and millions of years old.
I have sheltered lots of birds and and animals. Lots of birds sat on me. Lots of squirrels ran on my arms. I cuddled everyone who asked for shelter.
I like it when the sunlight shines on me. When it is windy, my leaves start dancing. I love listening to the music of the wind.
I am a beautiful tree when the rain-drops fall on me. I am very useful because you can get good medicine from me. Lots of butterflies and honeybees like to have honey from my flowers.
My seeds are very tasty and healthy food for all. The things I have I wish to share with everyone.
Even though I am very old I want to live thousands and thousands of years more.
Please don’t chop me down, but save my life so I can be with you many years more.
(The mature Ginkgo is beside the historic building. Both will be destroyed if EDDC’s planned building is permitted by EDDC).
Knoll (by Brian Swallow, aged 85)
I sit on the grassy Knoll.. Leaves rustle in the trees.
A squirrel chews an acorn.
A council man comes by.
“Are you going to cut these tress?” “No, they are too beautiful,” he answers.
I sit on a grassy Knoll.
A man with a chainsaw comes by.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. “Cut down some trees,” he says.
I sit on a grassy Knoll.
The council man comes by.
“Why are you cutting down trees?” I ask.
“We have houses to build,” he says.
I sit on a concrete Knoll.
No trees to rustle their leaves. No squirrel eats an acorn.
The council man comes by.
“What have we gained?” I ask. “Funds for our project,” is what he replies.
“But what of the trees?” I ask. “That’s life,” he says.