Hello, I love you
A game to play
NEWS! On Monday 2nd June 7pm-8pm UK time, I’ll be speaking on Zoom with kindred spirit Sophie Howarth, author of Everyday Wonder. Join us for a celebration and exploration of our gorgeous new books as we share our love of beauty hidden in plain sight. Attendance is open to all via a donation to Medical Aid for Palestinians, as little or as much as you choose. We’d love to see you there.
“The names of things are like spells; saying them out loud when you know them makes the world go quiet in awe and gratitude.”
Letters From Wonderland
Hello, Red Campion. I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do.
I love the way you tower over the nettles on your long, fuzzy stalks, but why you’re called red campion I will never understand because you are pink pink pink.
You remind of me of tiny windmills. When I look at you, I imagine a fairy kingdom hidden in the messy undergrowth, tall stem masts raised above the shadows to catch the breeze and power hidden homes, your petals spinning, spinning, spinning in the wind. I imagine enormous butterflies coming to land on you, wearing little harnesses, and tiny folk mounting them to speed from tower to tower. Ah, but perhaps that is too fanciful for serious folk who would prefer me to dutifully recite your latin name, stick to the facts, and refrain from telling made-up stories.
What do they know. I’d forget the latin name, but I will never forget you now.
Hello, Yellow Corydalis. I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do.
I love the way you are ungovernable. You’re not really supposed to be here — you were stolen from far away to be planted in neat little rows in garden plots, but you decided to bust out and now you grow entirely where you choose. You chose my garden for starters, and the dirty back alley where the bins are kept. In fact, there you grow right out the crumbling wall. You seem to like bringing your sunshine to the scruffiest, shadiest places. You seek out things that are cracked and tired and decide “HERE. Here I will do my good work.” Why aren’t we giving you an OBE and building statues in your name? We should, you know.
Your flowers first made me think of long slender, trumpets, but now I look at them more closely, I see they look like bright yellow platform shoes! Look at that heel! Entirely unsensible, especially for a freedom-fighter. I can hear a million fuddy-duds tutting from here.
You’re perfect. I will never forget you now.
Hello, Pendulous Sedge. I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do.
And WHAT a name. What a thing! I love the way you match your description so brilliantly — look at you, entirely pendulous. I love your Eeyore energy. I love the way you turn from long, lethargic green caterpillars into unruly brown eyebrows. You make me want to hold one under my nose to pretend I have a false moustache, hayfever be damned. I’m told you’re rather unwelcome in many places but you are very welcome here.
You remind me of those fuzzy trick caterpillars we used to get when I was a kid — you know, the ones you’d pull along on invisible thread.
Oh, it’s no good, I’m going to have to turn you into one… hold on…
I will never forget you now.
Hello, Trailing Bellflower. I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do.
Every day this week, you’ve made me stop in my tracks. I love the way you have chosen our cracked and walled-in neighbourhood to set up your chapels. Every wall, no matter how high or low, has you cascading from it just now, opening your delicate star flowers. I listen for your bells chiming softly, calling us to attention, and I think, I think I can hear you, if I get really quiet.
You remind me of stained glass. When the sun hits, you are breathtaking. You make me want to say a prayer. You seem to survive on faith and courage. You encourage me to do the same.
Thank you, holy one. I will never forget you now.
Hello. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say that it’s a shame that ‘knowing the names of things’ has a way of getting a bit pompous. All too quickly it can start feeling like a competition; too much like a contest of who’s cleverer than who. It’s a field ripe for superiority and inferiority, depending on which side you fall on, on any one day. What’s more, knowing names of things too easily runs the risk of being seen as the territory of experts or know-it-alls, not an everyday thing. Not play.
This makes me sad. Despite its uptight overtones, I believe learning the names of things is one of the most magical, important things you can do as a human being alive in the world.
The way around its creeping seriousness to make it into a game. We need to do everything we can to blow the pompous right out of it. It simply starts with looking at something or listening to something and asking, “hang on, do I know your name?” and then, if the answer is no, doing something about that, just like you would for any other person you hung out with.
No competition. No one-upmanship. No shame for what you don’t know and no smugness over what you do. With every new day or week that comes, another go. Another round of handshakes. That’s all.
Hello… [name]… I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do…
I love these things about you…
You remind me of…
I chant the names of things like spells, like nursery rhymes, like prayers. I love to write silly stories about them. Something very special happens when I do.
I choose to weave them into me. More and more and more names, until I’m made of names, made of everything.
When I die, cut me open, and they will all come tumbling out. Wren, pine, hawthorn, ragwort, swift. Red campion, corydalis, pendulous sedge, trailing bellflower…
Play the game with me?
Hello… [name]… I love you. I didn’t know your name before, but now I do…
I love these things about you…
You remind me of…
Good resources for learning the names of things on the go:
Keep a log on the Encounter app
Ooh, and here’s a little bonus thing:
I’m forever making little pocket guides just for fun. This week, I’ve been making one about conifers (because I can never tell them apart). I thought I’d upload it so you can enjoy it too!
Download my mini guide to conifers here
My lovely new book is almost here!
“Follow the trail laid out for you in this sumptuously illustrated book of letters that will lead you on a journey of discovery into the magical world all around you.
If where you live feels grey and boring, if you've ever felt different or alone, doubted yourself or wondered if you really matter, if you've found yourself feeling sad that magic isn't 'real' or longed to feel like someone special in a real story, this book is for you.”
Read all about it
Limited edition signed copies available from Big Green Books!
Or order with 10% discount from bookshop.org all through the month of May using code WONDERLAND 10
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Ha ha! I am always saying "hello" outloud to various flowers, trees, birds, fungi, etc when I am out walking or just in the garden. I don't really care what others who hear me think. I'm old enough not to care!
Absolute delight. Thank you.