Ken the Kentia Palm
Ken is a houseplant which was given to me for my 46th birthday. Or, as I am tempted to say, who was given to me, as Ken is so large and lush and healthy it is hard to imagine that he is not sentient. His name, as well as being short for Kentia Palm, his species, is a tribute to Wild Ken Hill, a farm in Norfolk which was the main location for last year’s Springwatch programmes on TV. In the first week of understanding quite how ill I was I wanted to watch some TV, but I understood that it needed to be very gentle. No news programmes or complicated storylines. The movie Frozen was apt in having an easy to follow storyline, but it was a little too emotional. I needed something even gentler. I thought about watching one of the big natural history series by Sir David Attenborough, but even they seemed daunting: I was not yet ready to travel the world even through my TV screen.
So scrolling through the natural history section of BBC iPlayer I landed on Springwatch, which I had never seen but remembered was popular. And so I binge watched – which in my context has meant half an episode a day. With Springwatch, and then Autumnwatch and Winterwatch this has given me around 24 hours worth of viewing, which will take me about 6 weeks – with a few breaks in order to watch the latest series of the Great British Sewing Bee. I will finish just in time to watch this year’s Spingwatch as its broadcast. It has been completely compelling, soothing, enlivening and encouraging. While the accounts of changes in natural life resulting from climate and environmental change are clearly laid out in the programmes, there is also a very positive story of how human action can improve the situation, and Wild Ken Hill is an inspirational example.
Ken reminds me of this, and of Palm Sunday, and of my first walk out of the house shortly before he arrived. This walk lasted all of 3 minutes, I turned right out of the house, right at the corner, crossed the next intersection, then crossed the road to come back to save feeling foolish at turning around on the spot. If anyone observed what I was doing they would have thought nothing of it – just someone walking extremely slowly. A cigarette break without the cigarette. For me it was enormous. It was not a walk to the corner. It was MY FIRST WALK. It would not have been unsuitable in my mind for people to have cheered and hailed and indeed if they had any to wave their palm branches to greet my way as Jerusalemites did on that occasion 2,000 years ago that we still mark on Palm Sunday. An ordinary every-day action, a walk into Jerusalem or on this Victorian street, whose significance can only be understood as part of a greater story.
(Written May 2022)
So scrolling through the natural history section of BBC iPlayer I landed on Springwatch, which I had never seen but remembered was popular. And so I binge watched – which in my context has meant half an episode a day. With Springwatch, and then Autumnwatch and Winterwatch this has given me around 24 hours worth of viewing, which will take me about 6 weeks – with a few breaks in order to watch the latest series of the Great British Sewing Bee. I will finish just in time to watch this year’s Spingwatch as its broadcast. It has been completely compelling, soothing, enlivening and encouraging. While the accounts of changes in natural life resulting from climate and environmental change are clearly laid out in the programmes, there is also a very positive story of how human action can improve the situation, and Wild Ken Hill is an inspirational example.
Ken reminds me of this, and of Palm Sunday, and of my first walk out of the house shortly before he arrived. This walk lasted all of 3 minutes, I turned right out of the house, right at the corner, crossed the next intersection, then crossed the road to come back to save feeling foolish at turning around on the spot. If anyone observed what I was doing they would have thought nothing of it – just someone walking extremely slowly. A cigarette break without the cigarette. For me it was enormous. It was not a walk to the corner. It was MY FIRST WALK. It would not have been unsuitable in my mind for people to have cheered and hailed and indeed if they had any to wave their palm branches to greet my way as Jerusalemites did on that occasion 2,000 years ago that we still mark on Palm Sunday. An ordinary every-day action, a walk into Jerusalem or on this Victorian street, whose significance can only be understood as part of a greater story.
(Written May 2022)
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