Handcrafted. The Man of the Woods mask

It’s been quite a while but we haven’t gone away, just like a villain in a two-bit movie or that really annoying person at a party who latches on to you…who am I kidding I don’t go to parties, but I’d probably be that person.

But that doesn’t get me anywhere closer to telling you about this fella who now graces the wall at the top of the stairs.

The Man of the Woods mask started life as your average shop bought plain paper mask but then Bee beat me to and and created him from handmade items and found objects.

I hope you enjoy him as much as we do.



Poem: The hare’s field.

My immortal eyes,

across pastures glide

Beyond the crow cloaked oak

and woodfire smoke.

To hear the small dryw cry

For the White Hart’s rise.

Swarms Me ©2016

In March of 2016 we went on a short trip to Llandygwydd, Cardiganshire, Wales where we met local artist, David Beattie. You can see his works on his Facebook page here. David kindly opened up his studio to let us have a look round. It was a veritable cornucopia for the eyes and mind, every available surface was covered in his work and works in progress. He was very welcoming and happy to talk about his work, processes and research, he has a true artist’s character.

He was, at that time working on a number of pieces for his university portfolio and hares feature very strongly in his work. So the combination of this, the surroundings and long walks and the natural inspiration of Wales led to this poem.


We had so much fun this afternoon/evening at the wassailing event. We met up with some old friends and laughed and talked, drank hot chocolate and mulled apple juice. There was singing of the wassailing song, it was the Christian version which was a bit of a shame purely due to the fact that this dates before Christianity (the event taken over by the religion). The Morris Dancers were lovely and the ‘play’ was a lot of fun and finally we all meandered down to the orchard. Adults and children alike sang and beat the trees with small sticks, stuck bread on branches and poured apple juice and cider on to the roots. We rattled tambourines and beat the bodhrán. We held our lanterns high to wake the trees and scare any evil spirits at the same time. We called out for a good harvest.

It was an earthy, unpretentious event with good friends and I loved every minute of it.