Recently the State of Nature Report was published, and it turns out that nature is in a desperate state, and we are nose diving towards mass extinction.

There are of course some glimmers of hope. These require huge effort, both politically and financially, but more importantly a willingness from everyone to turn things around. Sometimes this seems a momentous task when confronted by the daily bombardment of poverty, homelessness, social and economic inequality, and a government seemingly entrenched in pursuing economic gain above environmental stability.

So how do we maintain and cultivate joy for the natural world in order to better protect and nurture it? A joy which is something innate in all of us. Nature has the power to inspire awe, elevating and grounding us and art is a medium to articulate and express it.

Dacher Keltner says that invoking awe only takes a moment. His experiments with students reported less narcissistic and entitlement behaviour patterns after gazing intently for only one to two minutes at stands of mature trees. He also found this promoted shared identity with those similarly gazing. Interestingly he goes on to criticize the mindfulness movement.

In his book ‘Awe’, Keltner explores stories from 26 cultures around the world and determines that the moral beauty of others was the most universal source of awe, leading to elevated wellbeing, greater kindness, and more environmentally friendly behaviours. The importance of working with communities to inspire a collective sense of awe for the natural world is something we are trying hard to achieve. The connection people have to each other is fundamental to the way we set about improving outcomes for nature. Understanding the communities we work within can potentially lead to creating or highlighting these awe-inspiring moments.

Turlin Moor is a tight knit community with families who stick together, and during times of stress, step in to help each other out. Grandparents help to take care of grandchildren and sick family members. Families are often involved in just maintaining their own lives and time is precious. Volunteering is a luxury. This is important when considering the commitments needed to carry environmental community projects forward. For these to be successful in communities like Turlin Moor, professional incomers, in some capacity, need to have long-term commitment strategies.

The Turlin Moor Community Map project started last September with Nextdoor Nature seeing an opportunity to work alongside an established textile craft group involving prominent elders and younger women within the community. An idea from Common Ground’s parish map projects carried out in the 1980’s was taken to the group. Parish maps were visual expressions of a community’s feelings about the place they live in. These textile maps gave understanding to the observer of what the community thought important, showing their local distinctiveness.

The project has become a catalyst for talking about nature, what is important to people who live on the Moor and whether it should be represented on the map. The remit given was to be brave and to show everything of meaning to you, there are no restrictions.

Standard maps using accurate measurements and survey techniques leave out what is important to a community. Turlin Moor has been marginalized for decades with stories of vandalism, drug use, knife and gun crime and theft. One road in and one road out.

But who would have thought that someone in the group living on the Moor for over 40 years remembers a deer charging down the main road, or that there is still living memory of the elder who was adopted and brought to live on the original “Turling Farm” owned by Rockley Estate before Turlin Moor existed.

People talk of seeing clouds of butterflies in the past. Some of the women remember pushing their big prams over the railway tracks and into Hamworthy, before the bridge was built in 1973.  They mention the Baccies the name given by fishermen to the backwaters on Lytchett Bay, part of our nature reserve. They like that the sea is close and there is space to walk on its shores.

John, the previous shopkeeper on the Moor is missed.

“He’d give us tick (credit). We’d say to our kids go down to John’s and get a pint of milk and they wouldn’t misbehave because someone would see them and tell their parents. Then they’d be for it. Everyone knows everyone else here.”

These stories and others are shared around a big table with some of the women crafters working on the map, others working on their own projects but keeping an eye on the map as it develops. The skill levels are varied, but it doesn’t matter. Nor does it matter if people talk about their pet ducks, white pigeons that flock into their garden for food, the foxes they feed, how daffodils in spring make them happy, because these conversations turn into stories about our wilder fauna and flora and how important it is to protect these. And sometimes I mention the State of Nature.

Conversations ebb and flow through the sharing of creativity and at the end of the morning the community map is rolled up and put into a cupboard at the back of St Gabriel’s Church Hall. Other groups on the Moor have heard about the map and want to contribute. Someone mentioned last week the Bishop of Salisbury might unveil it. All this is fine, but next Thursday the map will be rolled out once more, the women will take their seats and stories will be shared over a mug of tea.

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