Where will your dragon live?

Dragon Days

Tuesday 9th August

Green Man Gallery

model cave for a dragon's lair

This dragon,
That dragon,
My dragon,
Your dragon.
From treasure caves in mountain hearts,
To ruined castles with crumbling keeps.
From towering cliffs where the seabirds scream,
To dark woods where wolves still howl.
From hot, sand-blown, shifting dune deserts,
To the frozen wastes of the Polar Bear King.

Where will our dragons live?

a dragon in a palace?

Join me on a storytelling journey to discover the last dragons of Derbyshire with stories and puppet-making.
Make your own little dragon with its own nest or cave and collection of treasure.
Time: 11am-1pm

Ages: 8-12 (Ages 6-7 welcome with an adult).

Please book a place: 01298 937375

Fee: £6.00

Venue: Green Man Gallery

Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/events/1736956936577926/
 

Part of the Buxton Family Festival, download a programme for the whole festival here
Family Festival prog
 

 

there was a dragon whol lived by a waterfall...

 

The dragons are coming!, 1

dragon skin as rough as rocks?

Dragon Days 

Tuesday 9th August

The Green Man Gallery 

dragon hearts as green as leaves?

This dragon,

That dragon,

My dragon,

Your dragon.

From sunrise golden to

Midnight black,

From submarine shimmer to

Pondslime green,

What will your dragon look like?

 

dragon scales as gold as autumn leaves?

Join me on a storytelling journey to discover the last dragons of Derbyshire with stories and puppet-making. 

Make your own little dragon with its own nest or cave and collection of treasure.

Time: 11am-1pm

Ages: 8-12 (Ages 6-7 welcome with an adult).

Price: £6

Please book a place: 01298 937375

Fee: £6.00

Venue: Green Man Gallery

Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/events/1736956936577926/

Part of the Buxton Family Festival, download a programme for the whole festival here

http://www.paviliongardens.co.uk/fairs/buxton-family-festival

The Green Man Gallery

Rainy days and dragon mornings

Rainy day stories and 

dragon mornings

we began in the wet

wet

Festival season in Buxton and both the main Festival and the Fringe are in full swing and I was telling stories in the Magical Storytelling Yurt for High Peak Community Arts. I’ve been doing this day for several years now: unpredictable days – always enthusiastic audiences but our numbers are very subject to the whims of the weather. Not much has ever rivalled the year we just started at about 11 and told stories almost non-stop for 5 hours as audiences came and went in waves like an over-eager tidal surge….

Yesterday it rained. Not torrential downpours but persistent Buxton drizzle that soaked the grass and squelched it, that slipped down necks and up sleeves and into socks. But we still have visitors, we still have people cheerfully soggying in and laughing, creaking like doors, roaring as tigers, watching for sun, rain and rainbows. We had a cheerful day in the Magical Rather Damp Yurt

sunshine on a peacock tree

So this morning’s dawn was greeted with a degree of trepidation. Stone and Water have been doing Tiny! Days in the Festival Fringe for years. There have been Tiny! Lantern processions, Tiny! Pirates (several times), Tiny! Faeries, Goblins and Trolls; Tiny! Monsters, and today Tiny! Dragons, Wyrms and Serpents (to which we added butterflies, bumblesbees, a tree, a flower, an eagle, several other birds and a peacock)

The Tiny! Days ask people to work within the theme and to make nothing bigger (give or take!) than their hand. They are cheerful, slightly frivolous family events: free, no booking, no charge, easy to find, open to everyone sessions within the Fringe: just turn up, pass-by and drop-in, whizz across the grass on your scooter. 

When asked “why?” (especially when there is no money, no tickets, no background grants, just us being cheerful) our answer has always been that “we live here, this is our home, this is one of the things that we do just ‘cause it’s fun to do and is a summer gift to the people we live among”. And on busy summer days with people playing in the river, picnicking on the lawns, being harassed by the ducks, playing in the playgrounds, watching model boats on the upper pool, falling over, spilling ice cream down their T-shirts,  crying ‘cause the miniature railway is broken down and not running, we offer a still space. Our creativity is contained, personal and quiet. Our laughter is soft, the delight gentle, the satisfaction great.

 

fire from a dragon cave

Thank you, dragon-makers, peacock artists, bumblebee girls and dinosaur boys.

And the next Creeping Toad summer events can be found here

The very next event is another Dragon Day: a more structured workshop:

Tuesday 9^th: Dragon Days

More dragons! Join me  on a journey to discover the last dragons of Derbyshire with stories and puppet-making. Make your own dragon as big as your hand with its own nest or cave and collection of treasure.

When: 11am – 1pm (if we fill up the morning slot, we might be able to run a scaly overspill in the afternoon)

Please book a place: 01298 937375

Fee: £6.00

Where: Green Man Gallery, Hardwick Hall,  Hardwick Square S, Buxton SK17 6PY

Part of the Buxton Family Festival, download a programme for the whole festival here:

http://www.paviliongardens.co.uk/fairs/buxton-family-festival

dragon mountain, approaching sunshine

 

Becoming indigenous

Indigenous
From pond to stream, to wood, to hill, to city street, to urban garden, this blog came out of time spent just being and an awareness of belonging that runs so far below the surface of my self, it is beyond debate and discussion and shapes my very being….

When our sense of belonging goes deeper than enjoying a view or appreciating a flower, when it lies so deep that we can no longer separate joy, sorrow and the land, then, maybe, we belong.

The twisted heather stalks of my nerves,

a heart reach from small...

Are threaded with veins,
Pickled by generations of whisky.

Clouded skies reflect in clouded eyes,
And I am bound to these hills,
So closely, i can no longer
Separate bone from stone.

My joy burned out with the heather,
Delight drifting on the smoke
Withering with scorched fur and scales,
But I am still here,
As skin sifts into sand,
And sand into skin,
And flesh slips into earth.

But soul,
Soul and spirit dissolve
Into mist and a sunset
Burning long and bright behind northern hills.

G MacLellan, June 2016

to wide horizons