Kerry Derbyshire was our poet in residence in August, researching and writing and running workshops for poets. Here’s one of her works inspired by the spirit of Wordsworth and this house. We will publish more in due course.
The Dried Hydrangeas
In the forest-green room on threadbare chairs they sit still as nervous guests petals clustered dry as old lace pale as mist swirling Nab Scar beyond the leaded window. An August soirée of neighbours gather around the polished dining table set with Staffordshire ware. Dusk draws on. Candles flicker over lamb and fresh-pulled peas the echo of Harebell summers white foxglove seeds harvested beneath a saffron sky how it can make a heart linger to be out of doors on evenings like this the contre ton with Coleridge over an early draft of The Prelude and weren’t Mr Simpson’s gooseberries the best this year the steady echo of death along the coffin route hydrangeas keeping their seats safe. Kerry Darbishire
Poet Kerry Darbishire was Resident here during August. Here she reflects on what she calls “a rare and wonderful experience”.
To sit in the house or garden with such deep history, surrounded by the lives of William, Mary and Dorothy, was a great privilege.
I enjoyed looking up how Dorothy’s days compared with mine during the same month of August: hers 1800, mine 2023. My note from first day: Arrived to a quiet misty morning, garden fresh with last night’s rain. Although D’s journal entries were hand-written, they would be very similar as I don’t think much has changed here in regard to: the views, perhaps more obscured by the growing trees, the many visitors wandering the garden; as they used to, the ever-changing skies; borders and plants tended by Helen and Chris, keeping them as Wm planned all those years ago.
Company in the garden
I met and chatted to many of the visitors, so keen, who came from all over the world to see where the great poet lived his final years(1813-1850). How sunlight filled the living room full of books, collections of paintings, personal items and furniture belonging to the Wordsworth family. All fascinating and beautifully cared for. Everyone and their dogs are welcomed here, and can enjoy a lovely cuppa and cake in the café as I did, where I met Pauline, Caitlin and Jo. I’ve made many notes and have begun to write poems inspired by this special place. Here is a first stanza of four altogether, from a poem I’m working on:
Last night a veil of mist stole fells, stars and all of Windermere. This distant view Wordsworth loved and as a boy at dusk would stand on the reedy shore to mimic owls, hands cupped, his loud halloos upon the air.
I also wanted to share this experience with other poets, so I held two afternoon workshops.There were 12 attended in all, and fortunately the days were sunny and Leo very kindly set up a table and chairs under a canopy in the garden. What bliss it was! Poets returning from the house and garden and writing down their responses. (It would be wonderful to celebrate with some of these poems and produce a chapbook.)
My final dayas poet-in-residence came and I’ll be sad to leave the team running everything – the house, garden, the kestrel circling. But I take with me an experience I will treasure always and enough material to eventually write into poems.
I would like to thank Christopher Wordsworth for this opportunity to spend time writing in the family house and gardens of Rydal Mount. Leo for his help with writing spaces and setting up everything I needed for the workshops. Also thank you to Pauline and everyone in the café for delicious coffee and soup, and to Helen and Chris for their huge knowledge of the garden and lovely chats throughout these August days.
Our Poet in Residence, Kerry Darbishire, is running a series of workshops here this month. Here Rebecca Robinson reflects on an afternoon spent creatively here at Rydal Mount.
CARS rumble along the A591 from Ambleside to Keswick, visitors buzz in and around Rydal mount like honeybees. A jet plane cuts the still summer air of late afternoon, roaring low overhead.
‘The world is too much with us
Late and soon.’(*)
But there’s an invitation to escape into an enchanted world. Follow the narrow road past the church, take the path into a quintessential English garden. Fill your cup of tea in the cafe garden, where a tiny field-mouse darts in and out for crumbs and a visitor brings the first ripe apple to the table. Join us, under the canopy for an afternoon immersion in poetry.
Rydal Mount is a hidden oasis between the towns of Ambleside and Grasmere. Open to the public, the country cottage belies a landmark status long before – look closely and the 9th century Norse mound on the grass in front of the house attests. The house was made famous as home to poet William Wordsworth, his wife Mary and his sister Dorothy in the 1800s (of Dorothy, some may say, his equally creative sister author of her own Journals). It’s now a living shrine to the poet and the Romantic movement, a destination for well-read tourists but also for literary scholars of the modern age.
And in the corner of this English garden, something is quietly being created.
Kerry Derbyshire, Poet in Residence at Rydal Mount for the month of August, entreats us to stop and stay a while. Kerry is an award winning poet and author (her works include Jardiniere (2023) and A lift of wings (2014) and like Wordsworth she was born and raised a Cumbrian.
Kerry’s August residency at Rydal Mount involves living in the footsteps of the former Laureate, taking inspiration from his home, works and garden, and drawing inspiration for her next work. To the delight of the small group of writers gathered in the garden today, she’s also sharing her experience with writers – and those of us who might only aspire to writing – in an open invitation to spend a spellbinding afternoon focused on poetry: reading, reflecting and writing in the charmed setting.
We take our inspiration from Wordsworth, Kerry’s own works and our experience of the natural world around us, travelling in our minds to the Cumbria of Wordsworth’s childhood and re-discovering the everyday magic in Nature all around us. Every field mouse, glow-worm and sleeping flower on the fell has our Poet host tutoring and encouraging us to put pen to paper inspired by the deep history of this place.
The afternoon session lasted three relaxed hours and was completely free for the lucky attendees. It will be repeated on Wednesday August 16th.
Please email kerrydarbishire@gmail.com for more details.
*The World Is Too Much With Us : William Wordsworth
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;— Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
Rydal Mount 