Good morning. It’s foggy and quiet in the UK this week. The mosses “are out”, puffed up, plump, bright green and excited about the soggy weather. Nature is resting, and so am I. I am in a peaceful state of wintering, slowing down softly while finishing various bits and bobs of work before the holidays.
Good afternoon. I hope your Monday is as soft as mine. This weekend, I am visiting family in the Veneto region of Italy to reconnect with them after a long period of studies, to rest up and restore. Travelling helps me nurture a different perspective on life. So, as I prepare for my return, I reflect on the need for critical awareness (so very crucial for effective digital well-being).
Good evening! I hope this finds you safe and well. I took a week off posting because – as a wise poetry publisher once told me, “we only happen to be writers”. Sometimes, we have nothing to say, and that’s okay.
Who owns the rainbow? Who owns the clouds, the lakes, the trees, the autumnal leaves on a grapevine falling gently off an estate wall? You see, an animal won’t understand the concept of land ownership, for instance. A frog will come back to the same wintering pond but won’t ask us for permission to hibernate on our allotment plot. It will simply choose a safe spot to do so. If we “own” the rights to the plot, we claim the right to all Nature inhabiting it, but the frog – quite frankly – doesn’t care.
Yesterday evening, my nine-year-old dog, Poppy, required a small surgery to stitch up a deep surface wound. It turns out our park hawthorn bushes are sharper than anticipated – she caught her back while running after her precious tennis ball.
I hope this autumnal weekend is soft for you. I spent it with fellow Nature practitioners and with my family – exploring the fourth currency of our times: trust (there’s also time, money and energy). Even now, in mid-October, Nature trusts us with its bounty, opening new flowers and bearing fruit in our gardens. I walk between our garden and allotment, admiring new lavender buds, opening roses and cherry tomatoes still shaping up on our plot. This must mean a soft, warm autumn ahead of us, but I also wonder: do we deserve this trust?
Good morning! When I was a little girl, my dad would send me out on photographic assignments around the house with a brief: look at things differently. And so I would climb trees, lay flat moss-spotting and imagine the world seen by bugs, snails and frogs.
Good morning; I hope this finds you safe and well.
I like this message opening because it contains the word “hope”. Last week my post was long, and I was feeling focused and ripe with new ideas.
Good morning! This post is longer somehow because I have more time to write and more things to share. Autumn came early this year, and as we approach the end of September, we are also entering the seasonal advertising period. I don’t know how you feel about PR and advertising – I listen to it now and again for patterns but promptly switch it off. These days it’s designed to trigger intense emotions, and I prefer to feel softly…
Autumn is my favourite season of the year. Mother Nature prepares for winter sleep as the days grow shorter, which can feel sad for many. Entering this transition can be heavy in itself…however here, in the UK, the last two weeks felt even more solemn, somewhat darkened by the news of people dying and people being killed.