Resurrection Fern
As I lie in bed listening to sprinkling rain falling outside, it occurs to me that there’s perhaps no other sound that makes me feel quite so happy. And yet there’s countless gloomy songs about sad rainy days. Not here in the desert. The pattering sound calms me. The fresh smell invigorates me, opens my pores, makes me want to breathe it all in.
In this wonderful mix of invigorated calm, I remember a day walk about a year ago with my then 4 year old. After a night of unexpected heavy rain, we had ventured out to the Olive Pink Botanic Gardens, making the most of a cooler morning after a run of scorching summer days. While we ascended the rocky hill that leads us to a vantage point looking back out over our small town, light rain started to fall once again. Something about the rain falling seemed to bring my scope of attention closer in, a vignette effect of the outer margins being blurred, giving more attention to what was right before me. Suddenly I noticed hundreds of resurrection ferns creeping out through the rock crevices, moss-like green covering rocky surfaces, so much green everywhere - springing up through the hard ground. And this was after just one night’s worth of rain. My son couldn’t help but grab handfuls of damp, spongy dirt covered in the soft mossy green.
I had just started working as an Arts Therapist and a few of my first clients were women referred from a local DV service. Sometimes in these therapeutic sessions I work with visual conversation cards, asking the person to select any cards that speak to how they feel about the situation they’re in. On one of these occasions, one of these women, who has experienced horrible acts of violence, chose an image of a woman holding onto a kite that was lifting her up into the sky. She talked about holding on to something that she didn’t necessarily have the words for, but something that buoyed her - even in the darkest of days.
Not long after my walk in the rain noticing the many resurrection ferns, I started writing a song that was about holding on – hold on to that kite. And before I’d even made the connection in my mind about the resurrection fern being an apt metaphor for resilience, I started to sing about them. There are ferns in the desert, after the rain, they come out again, in rocky terrain.
Resurrection Fern is the first track of the reWILD EP that I recorded with Dave Crowe, in his Sing Hum studio. Not only did he capture the mood and textured layers I had hoped for the song, he elevated it with viola and violin, surging with the kite at the end of the track. Initially I had in mind that it would be the final track of the EP, a stripped back acoustic song to leave the listener with. In this digital age most people listen to tracks in a randomized order, often figured out by an algorithm, and I know this but… But when I went to upload the five tracks of the EP, I kept thinking about how I wanted to tell a story through the five tracks. And that story, I’ve come to realise, starts from a place of heartbreak.
reWILD as an EP is a way for me to consider how we are navigating a changing climate and all the many layered things that come with that. The story, for me, starts with recognizing my fear, sadness, disappointment, and even rage that we have reached a point of such devastating inaction. Listening to podcasts like Outrage & Optimism, I’ve come to realise that feeling the outrage is an important step to taking action.
“Like you, we are outraged that it’s taken so long to act on climate change at the scale necessary – despite ongoing warnings from scientists, economists and many other experts.”
My now 5 year old loves reading a book series titled “Do Not Open This Book” and it’s such a clever title because what better way to get a 5 year old to do something than tell them not to do it. Not entirely in the same vein, but I realise that the songs of this EP are about reconnecting with nature, about reclaiming the wild. There’s a part of me that wants to tell you not to listen to the EP, but to instead turn the computer off, leave the phone and social media behind, and let yourself close your eyes and fully immerse yourself in the sound of the rain. Go out in the morning and jump in the puddles. Whatever you do, don’t listen to a song that is about reconnecting with the wild – go directly to the source. The irony is not lost on me.
Resurrection Fern by Emma Trenorden
You say that you’re sorry
You won’t let it happen again
But I know
You’ve said that before
And I should be running out
I should be walking out
That front door
But I’m stuck to the floor and the
Starwheel keeps turning
So bright
The days are so blurry
And I just might….
Disappear to the forest
The green cushioned chorus
Of lichen and moss
And all things soft
There are ferns in the desert
After the rain
They come out again
In rocky terrain and the
Starwheel keeps turning
So bright
The days are so blurry
And I just might….
Hold on
To this kite
