. . relish the rain and sun in equal measure

     In a shady valley not far from here, where the river slides over cool rocks beneath muscular Oaks, the Last Queen visited once. A small courtage followed and everyone barefoot (by decree) till the edge of Paisey Pool. There she stepped lightly into the cool waters and even the birds were hush as she dipped beneath the water, her train billowing in the flow. But when she emerged but a heart beat later age had been purged from her limbs and her body was lithe and supple.

     She turned to the company and addressed the barefoot lords who waited.

'These are the new rules of my reign' and the scribe began to take notes.

'Firstly . . .

     We shall walk barefoot always, mirrors will be banished - our lovers, children and friends will reflect our beauty in all our transformations. 

We will dine on nothing but the finest, freshest fruits and berries. 

Celebrate each season, relish the rain and sun in equal measure. 

Have no need for clocks or time pieces other than the sun and the moon.

     We shall . .

Fragment from story book box at Webbers Post

Continuation of the story above.

Yesterday I ventured out to the Jubilee Hut at Webbers Post with a little intrepidation, the last time I visited I removed a book which was full and replaced it with this one. It was only about two weeks ago, but the journal in question had become a visitor book, not a story book.

The concept of the story box is simple, find the box read the tale so far, add a drawing or paragraph but no more then leave for the next walker. So when it devolves into a guest book I feel a little saddened and hoped this one would not fall foul the same. I wrestled with putting a note inside saying 'This is not a visitor book, story only please' but I rile at that, my mind set is one of enablement, not of impediments. But once someone breaks the thread of a tale it drifts naturally into the visitor book mode. So with all that said, just before I set out I did print some thin book marks to tuck in the active pages to negate the drift.

Also last week I received an email from Katie Bourne who stumbled across this story box with her two year old and loved the project, she also mentioned 'the visitor book syndrome' and I knew she was looking at the newly installed journal which added to my anxiety. She went on to link to a Braunton project which she had managed a while back, similar to my storywalks work with GPS location triggered content, but Katie admits herself that some of the tech is already a little dated, but still worth checking out.

So yesterday I walked through the sun dappled trees at Webbers Post on the way to the Jubilee Hut which is where this box is installed. It is a stunning location, the crunch of pine needles, glimpses of deer (got close enough to pet two!) give me any excuse to go breath in the Exmoor tonic.

Illustration of Dunkery Beacon from this story box location

So I nervously approached the box, pleased it had not disappeared totally, (I am expecting to lose one or two over the summer). But the box looked perfect, with a good scuff on the lid (good, box in use), I opened it and found it well used in a relatively short period, but more to the point it was well used in the intended manner. Yes there are a few additions which wander off into the guest book cul-de-sac, but the meat is of tale, and more than I could have hoped.

Story Box on the bench next to the QR poetry project
at the Jubilee Hut, Webbers Post.

I added a little tale to the tale to gather some of the threads, took lots of pictures of the pages and then left the box once again to the wilds and whims of strangers. But when I checked my photo's at home last night, they were dreadful, so later that evening I drove out again with Davina (Walking Book Club), and not only did we see more deer, but a stunning sunset, and in that short time another visitor had added to the tale.

Brilliant.

So thanks to all those who have contributed, for me it recharges my faith in the creativity of strangers, the willingness to engage with the wilds of Exmoor, and add a little cumulative magic to the whole, just for the fun of it. 

I know that in years to come I will meet people who will remember stumbling across the story boxes, anonymously adding their mark or just enjoy seeing the of story grow there in.