Some days begin with an open heart and an open mind. . .

And some days push these limits past understanding and comprehension, I believe stories do this when you embrace them properly, but they are always stories, never more than, even if we wish they were.

So Monday was spent tramping field edges and Quantock brambles in search for beacon trees and confluences of energy only my guide could discern.

It was with Gordon Field I travelled, an artist, friend, and in the last few years a tree dowser.

Firstly I am to be working with Cannington College at a Holy Well (St Agnes) which nestles in the southern edge of the Quantock hills in Somerset. Only recently did I find out about the well which itself is a simple medieval building with crystal clear water flowing freely from a medieval building to a gully made by the same students in relatively recent years.

Chatting with Gordon about the well he was keen to visit and dowse around the locality so a date was set, but before our appointment he remotely dowsed an Ordinance Survey map to trace lines which flow through this location (pictured). Now I must make a confession here as I am a pretty pessimistic (and a little condescending I admit) especially to Glastonbury healers and self asserting aura boasters, so it was great to be with Gordon, a man who has journeyed from a place I understand well - design and has his feet strongly placed on the earth. But although I am familiar with the place Gordon has come from, I am not so sure I understand the place he has found himself - which is talking to trees.

According to Gordon there are six lines passing through the well, the first of which is 2 miles wide. These lines also travel over the hill and cross at specific beacon points and it was our task after visiting the well to search out these beacon trees.

So - OK time to follow this one down the rabbit hole, I think it's time to explain how Gordon dowses with his Walnut wood rod to ask a question of a tree.

First he asks if the tree is well, and secondly if it would like to talk. A yes sees the rod moving, a no is no movement at all, and it is through this process of elimination which answers are sought. So if he were to ask a tree if it were more than 100 years old, and it was then the rod would move i.e. he would get a yes. He might then ask if it were more than 200 years old, if there was no movement on the rod then it was not more than 200 years old. By breaking this down into smaller and smaller parts he eventually arrives at a date for when the tree was planted.

A month or two back I worked on The Gather-ing project (see previous blog) and in the Priory building adjacent to the Tithe Barn Gordon found a timber which he dowsed to ascertain the date it was installed. The timber informed him it was placed there some 634 years ago, and even more incredibly it was 500 years old when cut for that purpose. I remember Gordon informing me of this at the time and not really sure how to respond, but I noted and nodded and my curiosity was piqued.

So here you have not only a tree giving its age but a dead one to boot, I would not be alone in thinking

'Ladies and Gentlemen I believe we have now given leave to our sensibilities.'

But then, with storytelling I am constantly bending the world order to steel the truth inside a tale, was this any different? Here Gordon was reporting what the trees were telling him, and he is a level and sensible individual whom I have known for many years. He is not swayed by fad or fantastical whim, in fact he is both grounded and creative, and seemingly no more, which makes it all the more curious.

So I've broken it down into these steps

1 - Communing with trees

2 - Asking them questions in a way to get specific quantifiable data

3 - Communing with long dead trees with similar questions

4 - Communing with the Holy well itself

Whether you believe this or not I would just like to give you some of Gordon's answers and dispel with how they were divined. So on Monday, Gordon asked the well its age and incredibly he came upon not one but two dates, the first was the date water started to flow and the second was the date when humans began to visit. These dates were 11,120 and 5452 years ago, surpassingly precise and defined. It is interesting to note that the ice sheet retreated from Somerset and Northern Europe about 12,000 years ago which chimes surprisingly well with Gordon's dates.

Are they real, are they correct, I wonder.

So the next job was to find the tree on the hill, which itself had apparently been there for around 5400 years too, although Gordon was quick to say that it's not the same tree. We climbed in the mist up Cothlestone hill to a tumuli and view point - although the view was slow to materialise Gordon found what he was looking for which turned out to be quite a young Oak. This beacon tree told Gordon it was 193 years old and was planted by a Jay.

Apparently anyone can dowse which just starts with approaching a tree, saying hello and spending a little time with it. It requires you return again and again but then that's no hardship, we all have special places we love and personally I have a strong bond with woods. They pervade my stories and dreams, I like the way they sway in storms and throw dashing colours in autumn. I like the way they catch the rain and beg to be climbed, and my favourite early memory of a wood when walking as a child was not being able to crack twigs under my boots as my tread was too light. Today, I wish I were that light and cold walk through the forest without crashing and bashing like some city oaf.

I often say Storywalks are special as they are both in this world and the story world, but on Monday I went on a walk through the forest with a gentleman who does the same but in a manner I find both baffling and intriguing in equal measures.

But in the mean time here is a little poem I wrote

From wasp ripe fruits to frost kissed blossom,

From sinuous roots to mossy damp cushions

I am timber of heart and bark of head

And it's through the forest my soul will thread.

And here are Gordon's instructions for contacting a tree, in a time when the word acorn has been removed from the Oxford Children's Dictionary I think we should reacquaint ourselves with the forest just by spending some time there.