Before the Nightjars leave

Instructions for loving a summer you’ll lose

Wander Dartmoor during the gloaming, when rhododendrons blaze and the waters of Twyford Reservoir shiver. Climb to the Tor’s tip and look over the temperate rainforest. It conceals a pool named after the maid who drowned in its icy waters. This moor is thick with the ghosts of women silenced by wealthy lovers. Be sure to ask permission before plunging head first into their forest. 

***

Do not talk about how hard growing up is. Do not name loneliness or shameful things like how much you’d rather fall in love with a rich man and how afraid you are of your parents dying. Why talk at all when you can walk barefoot in the grass and curl up naked with friends under the harvest moon?

***

Crouch in the gathering gloom in a scrap of heathland and allow mosquitoes to feast on the fleshy folds of your fingers. When they arrive, it is as if they were planning on meeting you here all along – Nightjars, fluttering ragged as moths, weightless as embers.

These nocturnal birds travel from the Congo to the scrublands of Devon for just a few weeks each summer. Known as Fern Owls, Wheelers, Nightchurr and Dor-Hawks, Nightjars have the pointed wings of tiny dragons and flat heads that resemble reptiles. 

According to the RSPB: “Nightjars have an almost supernatural reputation thanks to their mythical ability to steal milk from goats. You know when one is near by its churring song, rising and falling through the crepuscular sky.”

Stay still enough and one might land on your shoulder to whisper stories of Africa and how the earth looks from above – a dull penny surrounded by starlit clouds and the changing face of the moon. 

***

In the humming dusk, an old lady wails. “I can’t help it,” she cries, clawing at her husband’s hand. The ox-eye daisies swim through the dark. Try to resist the urge to say… what exactly? I’m sorry this could be your last summer. I’m sorry you have spent your share of time. I’m sorry the end has brought so much suffering. 

How humbling and inevitable it all is – like petrichor and taxes and the fact your mother loves you. 

***

Ask yourself, is this summer longer than usual or does Devon make one more aware of the seasons? Call to the grasses, ‘I love you’ as you rest one and then another against your shoulder like swords. Tell the golden oak and dancing fly fairies you love them, too. When you crouch on the brown bank, smell your own body’s riverine tang. 

Do not dread aloneness. 

Better to trust in the salt air and hush, hush, hush of the oak leaves. When the sunken land’s rivers begin to rise, jump. 

***

Try not to fear as the Nightjars prepare to leave. The sun’s dazzle and coolness of yesterday’s rain remain. Feel your shoulder skin absorb the heat like parchment. Meditate on how it feels to be belly to belly with another, on microbes and tadpoles and the crunch of snails in bare feet.

Summer, we love you.

How wonderful and terrifying to have so much left to lose.

Thank you for reading. If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear how you’re staying soft this summer.

Imogen x

August brain fizz

Travel spotlight I’m still recovering from my mind-bending trips to Mexico and Nepal by having a quiet summer in Devon. However, I’m intrigued by Comrie Croft, a farm in Perthshire that's owned by a community of 50 people and home to 12 nature-based micro-businesses including a sauna, campsite, mountain biking trails and a 50-acre rewilding project.

Reading  A Training School for Elephants (Penguin Books) sees my favourite travel writer, Sophy Roberts, follow in the footsteps of four 19th century elephants marched from Zanzibar towards Congo. Roberts’ meticulous research skills and luminous descriptions give this tale of colonial cruelty a shimmering quality that continues to haunt me. 

Learning I’ve been dipping my toe into the world of somatic experiencing – a form of therapy that aims to release the lingering stress stored within the body. Cassandra Bradshaw over at Rise Rooted offers four week online courses to help women regulate their nervous systems and connect with their bodies. I’m half-way through one and LOVING the daily meditations.

Listening I enjoyed this episode of the Rooted Healing podcast with Merlin Hanbury-Tenison, which was recorded at Cabilla, his dreamy rewilding project and retreat space on the edge of Bodmin Moor, and is all about healing Britain’s temperate rainforests.

Londoning You can take the girl out of London but you can’t stop her obsessively keeping tabs on what’s hot in the big smoke. Bolland & Crust is a cool little cocktail and barbecue spot in Tottenham with outdoor seating, while Bistro Freddie in Shoreditch has to be the ultimate bougie date spot. 

Wearing It’s all about summer stripes, naturally. I FINALLY found the sold-out Bella Freud X M&S pinstripe mini skirt over on Depop and have been living in a French naval sweater from the 80s like this one.

My stories elsewhere

From magazine articles to social media

“It really is possible to be zero waste”. The restaurant with no bin – Guardian

Meet the woman regenerating the soil and a community – SUITCASE

10 of the best places to visit in Mexico (and how to see them) – The Times

Right to Rome – Lodestar’s Anthology

Of course, you can always buy my book

 The Ethical Traveller: 100 Ways To Roam The World Without Ruining It