Tag: harvest moon

Community Walking Projects

Women walking the city at night

Women Walking the City at Night – a collective drift under the Full Moon.

6 October 2025

Stroud, Gloucestershire, England: Meeting at the front of Stroud Railway Station Monday 6 October at 8pm. Book here With Lucy Guenot and Tamsin Grainger. A dark walk.

Edinburgh, Scotland: Join us on this collective walk exploring our relationship with the city at night. Women walking the city at night. On Monday, 6th October at 2100hrs. With Clunie: +44 7840 971039 and Dawn: +44 7912 357198. Meeting Tollcross.

This annual, world-wide walk is the creation of Eleonore Ozanne and 2024 was the third year that she hosted it. Ours was the first such in Edinburgh and we walked together on Wednesday 18 September 2024 from Haymarket Station to the Meadows, Edinburgh with the moon in the lead.

Women walking the city at night, Edinburgh 2024

The 2025 walk will take place on 6 October in Utrecht, the Netherlands (Ienke Kastelein), Sydney, Australia (Molly Wagner), London, England (Clare Qualman), Camallera, Cataluña (Clare Garí), Edinburgh, Scotland (Clunie Phipps and Dawn Oei), and Stroud (Tamsin Grainger).

This is a performative action that takes the form of a collective walk among women*. It takes place simultaneously in various cities around the world under the light of the Harvest Moon — the brightest full moon of the year.

With the desire to go for a real walk, we meet at a designated spot and walk following the moon’s trajectory. Since 2021, we have held this walk each year. The total duration of all the walks combined spans approximately 24 hours, following the time zones from Australia to Mexico. It is an aesthetic, relational and political experience that allows us to walk together, at night, in the same direction — despite the distance.

After the Women walking the city at night Edinburgh walk 2024

For further detailed information, sign up to my newsletter at the bottom of this page (or follow me on instagram @tamsingraingerwalkingart or bluesky @walknodonkey.bsky.social)

* This project does not seek to reinforce a binary view of gender. We understand “woman” as anyone whose body, story or experience resonates with this proposal.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

The convent

October 2018 Picardy, France.

I sit and work in the garden and the hot sun heats my lower back beautifully. I tan.

A peacock feather.

I look up as something thuds. An apple lies beside me. As I watch, whisper of a leaf; an acorn drops. Fruits still red and ripening.

Giving one Shiatsu per day for the community.

Looking down onto the village..

St Joan of Arc – one of the luminous stained glass windows of the chapel.

The garden from inside.

J makes dumplings – there is always lots of kitchen activity: fuels the brain!

E collected ceps and more in the woods for sharing.

I took a walk to the Intermarché/ supermarket on a sunny Sunday.

School and graf / graffiti.

On first sight I always think this means ‘no singing in public’!

Harvest time.

Pumpkins (above) and the last tomatoes (they are sweet as sweet).

The local library where MT volunteers.

The garden is the best place for writing. The light is inspiring. I caught myself thinking, ‘With this beauty and peacefulness I don’t need to eat’!

The slightly weird grottoes showing above the trees, which catch the morning rays.

Triffids?

The ringing singing tree, surely.

Evening walks.

After my tour, I sat in the garden as the sky darkened and the moon brightened. The last of the sun illuminated the tops of the birches and their tiny leaves flickered in the wind. The cyprus stood steady, turning a black silhouette before the rest. I watched a plane go past a star – that’s what it looked like.

An almost full harvest moon

Then an owl hooted: sometimes singly, followed by silence, then four in a row. Baby blue clouds appeared and a gauze of them passed in front of the orb which altered the light on the lawn.

The sound in the trees kidded my body into thinking it was colder than it was. Still, I pulled my hood over my hat, poked my thumbs through the holes in my sleeves and wormed one hand up the opposite arm. The chickens had been put to bed I realised, and there was no sign of the peacocks. A dog barked. The church bell tolled. I recognised a halloween sky but minus the bats! And I knew there was revellry going on indoors.

My desk

This was once a nun’s bed.

The Piano Concerto No. 21, 2nd Movement “Andante” by Mozart plays over and over in my head. I get down to the next chapter.