trees

The Little Christmas Tree – my first book. I love these editions, back in stock. Hurray!

/ andreaskevington / Leave a comment

I was so thrilled with these new editions of my first ever published story that came out last year.  Both have Lorna Hussey’s charming illustrations, and the board book is slightly abridged for very little ones. I particularly like the way the sparkles have a texture to them. I can imagine little fingers following the trails of stars across the pictures.

The story is still very close to my heart, and I am so delighted it’s becoming a Christmas regular.  It speaks of offering shelter and welcome, which is such a moving part of our Christmas traditions and Nativity plays.  That message seems particularly apt at the moment. It’s worth reminding ourselves of the value of kindness, generosity and humility. 

I’ve written about the book elsewhere on this blog. If you’d like to find out a little more, here’s some suggestions….
The Little Christmas Tree – a few pictures!
The Little Christmas Tree – some ideas for 2020
The Little Christmas Tree and Mary’s Song
The Little Christmas Tree – a beautiful BSL video telling of the story.

If you are lucky enough to have a local bookshop, they should be able to get them for you for the next day if not in stock. It can be ordered from all the usual places. If you feel inclined to write a review on one of the book websites, I’d be so grateful. It really helps bump them up the lists.

Here are some links:
you can order from the publisher SPCK
and from Bookshop – this link is for the hardback, and this for the board book to preorder on the site.
Also, wherever you usually order books.

Thank you for your support and encouragement over the years, I really appreciate it.

Poem: Wych elm

/ andreaskevington / Leave a comment

At the end of my last post, the poem Heat, I mentioned that I was working on some pieces that grew out of our recent walking holiday in Northumberland – on the way to Lindisfarne. I’m still working on the poems – one of the later ones by the logic of the walk has come first, and I’m wondering how best to order them….. However, a month or so back I wrote this piece – a quick garden poem – which I thought I’d share with you while I’m working on that sequence.

British readers may have heard about, or remember, the terrible loss of elm trees in our landscape in the 1970’s. Here and there, some elms are returning as low growing hedge-trees, or elm variants such as the wych elm. When I saw this little beauty growing in a wild spot in my garden, I thought at first it was a hazel – but it’s an elm, I believe a wych elm. I’m so delighted that this quite rare tree has found refuge with me. Nature has a deep capacity to find a way, and that continues at least for now. Life wants to live. Sometimes, it needs our help, as with the red kite, and at others, it needs space to seed itself – although I don’t know what love and care may have gone into tending this tree’s ancestors. We keep working, keep making space, keep seeking to give life room. For some, it is too late, but each part of the web of life we cherish matters more than we can imagine.

wych elm


Wych Elm

I remember the great trees dying,
as a child, I remember watching the
leaves wither and crisp.
I remember the whine of the chainsaws,
watching them felled and falling

Limb by limb. Felled and fallen
and carried away to be burned
in great smoking bonfires.
I remember the consternation,
the grief that prickled across the land –
my own, too.  I did love those trees,
the feel of the bark under my
soft climbing hands and feet.

And now, leaving – as I do –
things to grow much as they will,
I have found a wych elm
flourishing low in my garden –
surrounded by other, more
exotic and fragrant shrubs.
There, it has remained hidden.
It is wondrous.  It is a miracle.

Once more, I have felt an elm leaf’s
sandpaper roughness
in my hand,
have marvelled at its points,
like a precious diadem,
a green man’s crown,
priceless.

I imagine future vastness, looking up
into its great sheltering boughs.
But I will keep it low, away from
the beetle that flies by night.
And there, it will grow,
and I will offer it shelter,
this place a refuge for us both.