December 2025: Zero Waste, Redbridge
To the Rain
Mother rain, manifold, measureless,
falling on fallow, on field and forest,
on house-roof, low hovel, high tower,
downwelling waters all-washing, wider
than cities, softer than sisterhood, vaster
than countrysides, calming, recalling:
return to us, teaching our troubled
souls in your ceaseless descent
to fall, to be fellow, to feel to the root,
to sink in, to heal, to sweeten the sea.
I’m living off perfectly good food that’s about to be binned by local supermarkets and bakers, which is then distributed to the queue by volunteers at Grange Hill Methodist Church, Hainault. It’s often better quality than the putrid fruit and vegetables they sell at Lidl, and my grandma would love the fact that food isn’t being scrapped. It’s doing me good getting out and seeing people - especially volunteer Ruth (and her gorgeous shivery Jack Russell Terrier, Eddie). There’s a warm cafe there, where people can get to know each other over free tea and toast.
In listening to the Thelma Houston and The Communards’ versions of Don’t Leave Me This Way, I discovered the wonderful work of singer, Sarah Jane Morris. Check her out! I love in particular her and Tony Remy’s sadly socially relevant song, No Beyonce. I also revelled in the world of Mr Mercedes; an adaptation of Stephen King’s Bill Hodges trilogy of novels for American television, developed by David E. Kelley.
I composed some tunes (free electron’, ‘ain’t that deep’ and ‘no rush’), even though my heart wasn’t in it, and noodled on guitar during meditation. I attempted also, to rescue healthy pups from the rotting remains of my The Gherkin building - like cactus, by first drying them out, dipping them in cinnamon, then planting them in well-drained compost.
Australian soap opera, Neighbours finished after 40 years, and I feel bereft: I said to actor Lucinda Cowden (who played Melanie Pearson), “You should all be proud. In my mind Neighbours stands for hope, sunshine, morality, laughs, brilliantly written and acted storylines, depth, passion… It’s seen me through a challenging but eventful, joy-filled life. I dread what’s coming to be honest, but Neighbours memories will remind me of what’s worth going on for. Thank you.” I’ve even started a petition to urge networks to bring Neighbours back - again! Here’s the link: https://c.org/knxxDzJcPN
Repton Oak sit-spot - December 2025
Please see my December 2025 oak tree videos here: Repton Oak sit-spot Playlist by Gemma Boyd - YouTube
Some of my December 2025 writings and photographs from this project are on my Instagram page, @geminthemud
2nd December 2025. 9.52 am. Mild. Sunny. Specs of busy bugs at face height. Itchy right knee. A child branch of the big fallen branch snaps open with the weight of my booted feet. Oak bark is made darker and softer where rain rivulets run down it. Dead leaves suspended by spider webs on the trunk. People shouting for a dog... Alfie. An Alfie went missing here in the summer. A small bird; black, cream, stripes I don't recognise. I don't recognise its call either. I love looking up into the gnarly branches, counting all of the animal holes I can on this side of the tree which is entirely sunlit. I do a wee at the foot of the trunk. Trees appreciate that kind of thing apparently. Scared, anxious, but believing in myself for some reason. Blonde wood inside the shell of dark bark soon to be sawdust. Bored, in need of a hug... even a wrong one will do.
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28th December 2025. 9.23 am. Surprisingly mild given the weather forecast was 0 degrees. So tired, wound-up. My heart wasn't in coming. This tree isn't a reminder of good times today... just working out how to fit my pain around other people. Bleak, breezy, beautiful. Still. Someone has left more orange peel in a cavity at the base of the tree. Zero Waste Redbridge is another refuge; good food rescued; good people. I'm glad to be a part of this circle of the Repton Oak. I'm good at sticking to yearly resolutions, so maybe 2026 will be the year I get out... stop feeling responsibility for someone who takes none. Woodpecker pecking tree sounds. Cold. Looking forward to lemony greens pasta and toast hopefully with the bees now.
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Amanda resonates with what I say and do and has very much enjoyed my visits to the Repton Oak and what it has given back to me. I’m pleased that someone has connected with this work. She reflected, “Thank goodness for our animals, nature and creative sides. Also a whole bucket of life experiences that make us strong, determined and inspired.”
Fancy Fish by Gemma Boyd
“The greenest building is the one that already exists.”