Curious Minds

Tauheedul Students use nature as inspiration at Wycoller

Students from Tauheedul Islam Girls’ High School in Blackburn have been using their knowledge of Wycoller Country Park as a stimulus for fantastic creative writing. Led by environmental artist Gordon McLellan, known as Creeping Toad, their visits to the park have involved the students engaging in close observation and offering sensitive responses to the natural environment.

Exploring the park, observing the birds, flowers, trees and farm animals, the students used personal maps, `storysticks’ and papermaking to capture their experiences. They then turned these into a storypoem which reinforced their learning and expressed their experiences as a wonderful piece of collaborative creative writing.

TIGHS at Wycoller Country Park, 14, 15^th June 2011

the story of the eight bridges

The first bridge is in the village, the only one we drive across,

But the post van drives through the river.

Packhorse bridge, our favourite bridge,

With ancient, mossy stones and wobbly lines

 

Which way to go?

Climb, climb, climbing too many steps,

Up the long hill to the Atom,

The famous Oval Shape?

We take the unknown road, the new path

Up the road, over the fields

 

A flat stone bridge,

The rain makes puddles on it

Two slabs of stone cross the river

 

A tall conker tree

Beside Wycoller Hall,

Wycoller ruins,

The fallen house with a giant fireplace for sitting in and

Secret steps to climb

 

A bridge to walk on, with stone walls

Over clear, clean, bubbling water

 

In the fields, sheep were talking

And the lambs are running around.

Rabbits scurry away when we walk past.

Horses on the road but no dogs on this hot summers day

Rest by this old tree

Too many flles are buzzing about.

 

The wind blows the leaves of the tree,

They rustle,

They sound like a monster breathing.

Birds are singing all around

Peaceful

 

Up the path through the field,

We’ve never been so near to sheep before.

Hoofprints in mud,

Horses, people, sheep, birds.

A squirrel dashes across the field,

Running back  to the trees as fast as wind.

 

Up the path to the edge of the wood.

Along the path to the ruined houses.

Across the valley,

There is the Oval Shape!

Excitement!

We have been up there

Now we are here

This valley is hidden

 

(Keep walking, don’t stop)

 

Squeeze over a thin bridge.

One at a time.

A narrow bridge.

It wobbles.

Cool and shady under the trees

We are back at the river.

 

A leaning bridge,

One stone leans across the river,

Ready to fall.

But the water is cool,

Smooth and lovely on our hands

 

Homewards!

Lunch is waiting!

The road runs over a bridge

You don’t even notice

 

Purple flowers, blue flowers, pink flowers and white,

Clover, forget-me-not, campion, stitchwort.

Giant butterbur grows like rhubarb

For wrapping butter

To keep it cool,

Huge green umbrellas

 

Ducks make us laugh,

Ducklings come to say “Hallo”

 

Past the ruins again

Past the Packhorse bridge,

The last hill

Brings us back,

Pepperhill Barn.

We’re not tired,

We’re still talking,

We’re still laughing,

We’re still smiling,

We’re still enjoying Wycoller

 

And the eighth bridge?

That is a secret.

Written by Rosie Crook