Slow down. Release anxiety. Pay attention to what is happening around you. Give thanks for whatever abundance you’ve found. Don’t take things or moments for granted. Be wise with your time.

The universe whispered these messages to me over and over and over again until I was ready to listen (read: until I had ignored them long enough to find a practical solution to my problems). If I’m being honest, the prospect of tiny living was a means to an end (hello, just paid off my student loans and I don’t love being in debt), but our foray into a simpler lifestyle has brought so much more than financial freedom.

Long before I ever met him, my now-husband, Matt, learned about the tiny house movement and planned on living out his bachelor days in a custom tiny home on wheels- it would provide him simplicity, freedom, and enable his tendencies to be outside at every moment possible. But then we met and started dating and a couple of years later we were married and the idea of tiny houses were a dream from the past. Around the time of our first anniversary, I started contemplating going back to school, but wary of the mountain of debt that was sure to accrue, brought up tiny homes again. Smaller space plus cheaper rent equals more money to do xyz. At first, my Matt didn’t take me seriously. In fact, it wasn’t until I made him drive to a city three hours away to attend a festival where we could tour multiple tiny homes (for design inspiration, of course) that he realized this wasn’t just a whim.

We spent the next year dreaming, designing, and building our home with the help of my father and grandfather, both of whom have decades of construction experience. I so enjoyed designing the aesthetic of the home and getting to collaborate on creating solutions to make our house as functional as possible. We worked in the evenings and almost every weekend building our dream home, and just after our second anniversary, we pulled out of the driveway with our home in tow.
 

We’re approaching six months of tiny living, in our new, beautiful home in a new, beautiful place nestled up to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, and this is what I’ve learned:

It is so incredibly important to slow down. Those messages from the universe are resonant with our new lifestyle, but I still have to actively chase after peaceful and conscious moments, choose to be intentional with the ways I spend my time, and create space in my daily agenda for gratitude. Slow living doesn’t come natural to many of us, but once you dip a toe, the pool of calm and presence and ritual is one that draws you in.
 

For those of you aching for a respite, tired of the daily busy-ness, I wish you slow moments. You don’t need a tiny house to be more present. Steep a kettle of tea, spend an evening by the fireplace with a book, or cast on a new knitting project to keep your hands busy. Send a note to a pen-pal or call your mom just to say hello. Set aside five minutes to meditate before you go to bed. Get outside and take a walk. Take in the beauty of your surroundings. Just a few minutes of mindful slowness a day makes a world of difference.

Sarah Beth

https://www.slowlyandtrue.com/

‘Weather cannot be divorced from the outdoors experience and nor should it be.’ Tristan Gooley

If you’re someone who spends time outside in the UK then you’ll be acutely aware of the weather. We have to be because it can determine if a day goes to plan or not and more than once I’ve wished I could enjoy the outdoors without the elements but as Gooley says, we shouldn’t. With a little understanding and patience, the elements can yield clues for navigating. Yes, we have maps, GPS, and even our phones so we’re not reliant on natural navigation anymore but there’s still value in observing how the natural world is behaving around us.

It’s essential to observe the weather from the outset of your journey because often clues are in the changes. If you don’t know which way the wind was blowing an hour ago, you won’t know it’s turned.

In fact, wind direction is a great place to start. The ancient Greek name for different winds was interchangeable with the direction they came from; for example, Boreas, the name for the cold wind from the north (and the God of winter) could be used to mean the direction north. In the ancient world the characteristics of a wind would be analysed to detect from where it blew but in modern times we’ve flipped this so we look at the direction to try and predict what’s coming. Where a wind comes from gives us clues about what it might bring with it. A westerly wind coming off the sea will bring damp, maybe rain. As we saw last year, a southerly wind can turn the sky orange with Saharan dust while also bringing heat and dry air.

Historically the clarity of air has been used to predict weather too. The sky appears a darker shade of blue when the air is extremely dry or at high altitude because the short waves of blue light aren’t being scattered by clouds or pollutants in the atmosphere. The Polynesians used the twinkling of the stars to judge weather conditions, as twinkling is caused by wispy cirrus clouds high in the atmosphere.

While this all sounds more like weather forecasting than navigation, they are incredibly closely linked. If you can tell where the wind comes from and what it might have encountered on its way, i.e. mountains or sea, from the weather it brings, then you can learn about a landscape even if you can’t see it.

If you know the prevailing wind direction of a place then natural features become points on a vast compass. Trees bent like cartoon hags go with the direction of the prevailing wind and are easy to spot. More subtle is the weathering of a hill or mountainside. The slope facing into the wind (windward) might have less vegetation, smoother rock, and curves while the sheltered side (leeward) will gather dust, leaves and shingle and will usually be dryer than the windward side.   

While this is only a small introduction to a huge topic, winter is a fantastic time to tune into nature. Start small, notice changes in the wind while out walking and slowly you’ll become more perceptive.

Happy navigating!

One month of no meat, dairy, eggs or honey...are you giving it a go this year? Here at Creative Countryside we’ve put together the basics to help you understand why so many people are opting into Veganuary this year, plus a beautiful winter recipe for inspiration.

Why vegan?

There are lots of reasons to go vegan: some people make the change for health reasons, others are against animal suffering or concerned about the future of the planet. Whatever your motives, the journey to veganism is getting easier with every person who opts in. Supermarkets are stocking more alternatives, restaurants are jumping on board and misunderstandings are being dispelled.

At its heart veganism is the opposition to all unnecessary violence. Vegans chose not to eat or use any product that comes from animal origin in order to live their life without causing harm to other creatures. While vegetarians don’t eat meat, vegans take this a step further and reject dairy, eggs, honey, leather too.

Scientific studies are telling us that production and consumption of meat is unsustainable, the impact on the planet is just too high. Veganism acknowledges that production of plant based foods has a lower environmental impact; we can feed more people nutritionally richer food with lower carbon emissions, less water and no deforestation. The idea is that enough individuals adopting veganism will eventually slow the demand and eventually the production of animal products.

Whether you’ve got veganuary well under way or you just want to know more, we’ve shared one reader’s recipe to show you just how good a vegan dinner can be.

Sticky Tofu & Pickled Veg

Sweet and fresh, ideal for a mid-week pick up or a cosy night in.

Ingredients

1/2 pack of tofu, drained and pressed for 20 minutes, cut into cubes approximately 3cm wide   

2 garlic cloves, crushed

2 tbsp tomato sauce

2 tbsp Hoisin sauce

1 tbsp dark soy sauce

1 tbsp golden caster sugar

1 tbsp rice vinegar

1 tbsp vegetable oil

Ingredients for the Pickled Vegetables

1 tbsp caster sugar

2 tbsp boiling water

1 ½ tbsp rice vinegar

2 tsp toasted sesame seeds

1 tbsp fresh coriander, chopped

½ tsbp fresh mint, chopped

2 carrots, cut into thin ribbons

1/3 cucumber, cut into thin ribbons

1 shallot, sliced thinly

Black and white steamed rice to serve

Method

• Preheat the oven to 200C/400F/Gas Mark 6.

• To prepare the pickled vegetables, dissolve the sugar in the hot water, allow to cool slightly then add the vinegar. Pour over the vegetables and sesame seeds. Cover and refrigerate.

• Mix the garlic, tomato sauce, hoisin and soy sauces, sugar, rice vinegar and vegetable oil in a bowl. Add the Cauldron Tofu cubes and coat well. Place on a lightly greased baking sheet and cook for 15-20 minutes until sticky and glazed. Coat with a little more glaze during cooking if required.

• Serve the sweet baked tofu with the crunchy pickled vegetables and steamed rice.

Want to know more?

Becoming vegan doesn’t mean throwing all your leather shoes away. Most people keep the products they already have and replace them with a vegan alternative as they wear out. Consider it a transition.

Animal Aid have a great website if you want to know more about choosing veganism and their Agony Aunt has your questions covered:

http://www.govegan.org.uk

For more recipes visit Veganuary official website:

https://veganuary.com/recipes/

Pinterest and Instagram are brilliant resources for recipes or advice on how other vegans are finding alternatives to animal products. Remember, to check out Deliciously Ella's Chilli and Ginger Pho on the journal.

*This will be my last microadventure style post to celebrate my completion of walking 1000 miles in 2017.

It seemed such a perfect few days to have snow up in the welsh hills. Timely in fact for December although, it was our second covering of the year, only this time much thicker. 

It reminded me of when I was a small child, my cousins and I would use bin bags as sledges
and use the banks of the woodlands to whoosh down, only to be taken out by a root, or a tree! 

On the first morning, I woke early, there's was an intense glow above my curtains. There had been no tractor sounds or from passing cars.   Something was different.  The anticipation of peaking behind the curtains was a little too much for me, and instead, I dragged them back to expose a shocking white mass of the ol' white stuff.

 "It's snowing!" The household was awake then... 

My pup was out of the door before me.  Over the next 4 days, we enjoyed sledging,  hill walks, and snowman building.   Oh, and there was a case of a lost and never to be found glove of mine, from a late-night,  escapaedeinto the village to collect supplies (mince pies).

The roads were constantly blanketed, and although the tractors and gritters did their
best to clear it away each night more fell from the sky.

There's something quietly deafening about snow.  You can hear a pin drop. There are no echoes in the valley,  and each crunchy footstep I took got louder and louder and I found myself tiptoeing, hoping not to disturb the jittery Robbins or resting sheep!

Oh how the local communities came together.  And despite what you hear nowadays about the world becoming a frightening place, I know that it's not true.  Offers of food pickups and dropoffs from the 4x4 owners for the elderly don't seem to sell many newspapers... 

 The roads in the small villages were filled with people rather than cars, all snowball fighting, chatting, laughing, and enjoying what nature had to offer us in abundance.One morning, we woke to the most azure blue sky one, could ever ask for - my home looked exactly like it does on those winter travel brochures!   

Now in January, the hills are back to their earthy green palette except in the parts where the sun doesn't reach, remains fragments of that ol' white stuff I love so much.  The rivers are up high threatening to flood like they do each year, and the sludge was thick and not at all pleasing to the eyes. The trees no longer carry their icicle decorations and the snowflakes have turned into rain.  And the winds, how she howls....  

I feel utterly blessed  I got to finish off my 1000 mile challenge at home in the snow. My walking adventures have taken me to some amazing locations but there really is no place like home. 

Image above (c) Tegan Jane Photography

Nicola: I’d love for you to start by telling us about yourself, where you live and how The Shady Baker came to be?

Jane:  I am a baker, vegetable grower, blogger and farmer who loves to take photos and write about food. I live on a sheep and cattle property with my husband Terry, and our two children Annabelle and George in outback New South Wales, Australia.

In 2011 I contributed some recipes to a friend’s website. From there I realised I could start blogging independently.  I began with a very basic blog called The Shady Baker.  Gradually I started connecting with like-minded bakers, mothers, vegetable growers and interesting women.  Living in a slightly isolated situation, my blog gave me an opportunity to be creative and share my life with a generous online community at any time of day or night. 

The Shady Baker has recently had a complete overhaul and nowadays is more a journal about life with the occasional recipe.   

Nicola:  Your blog is full of delicious, simple recipes.  Why is cooking fresh and wholesome food important to you, and what message do you want to share with others through your recipes?

Jane:  Cooking fresh, wholesome and seasonal food makes sense and fits into the natural rhythm of life.  Cooking is about providing food for my family, which not only keeps bellies satisfied but gives comfort and creates lasting memories.  Living some distance from the nearest supermarket requires resourcefulness with regards to food.  Cooking thriftily with what is on hand and minimising waste is necessary, rather than just a feel-good notion.  

I have a large vegetable garden so cooking with the seasons is something that happens naturally. Our children have an amazing knowledge of growing food, without me having to teach them. 

My message is that preparing food from scratch is always healthier, cheaper and more rewarding than processed, packaged food.  With some basic skills, seasonal ingredients and a little prior planning, it really isn’t difficult.

Nicola:  Can you tell us about the farm you live on and what a normal day is like living in the outback of Australia?

Jane:  Our family owned property is located east of Broken Hill in western NSW.  Our main business is Merino sheep and Hereford cattle. 

I am up at 6am and the day always starts with ABC radio, a pot of tea and breakfast before the children get up.  I find this quiet time in the kitchen important to plan and organise my thoughts for the day ahead.

In the early hours, I might prepare meals for the workers that help us, check my vegetable garden or feed pets.  This is always accompanied by the soothing sounds of my coffee machine warming up.

By 8.30am my youngest child and I get down to the business of distance education schooling through School of the Air.  This involves me delivering George’s lessons, which have been sent out in advance from his teacher based in Broken Hill. 

In between schooling, I deliver food to the paddock for my husband and his work crew.  I might drive around our water tanks and troughs checking for problems.  You could also find me helping out with a mob of sheep being brought into the yards.  Or attending to school administration, my garden, the fruit trees, or our sheepdogs and horses.  My days are varied and largely depend on the season and what part of the farming cycle we are in.

My spare time is devoted to photography, writing and baking projects.  And of course family time!

Nicola: your photography is beautiful and your Instagram account is one of my favourites.  Has photography always been an interest of yours, and from where do you draw your inspiration?

Jane: My interest in photography was ignited around the time I started blogging.  Blogging has inspired me to continually improve my photos.  My husband has been very supportive and enthusiastically bought me my first DSLR camera.

I resisted joining Instagram for years because I knew it would become addictive. However I eventually weakened, and now, of course, I’m addicted!  The power of Instagram still amazes me.  It has helped me make friends, reinforce existing friendships and it has brought many work opportunities my way.  It is such a wonderful place to showcase skills, talents, and interests, in a way that is easily accessible to the wider community. 

My inspiration comes from everything I see around me, and the beautiful light we are lucky to experience. It might be the last rays of sun falling on my vegetable garden; it might be everyday work with our livestock, or my children with their pet animals.

Nicola: I know you write for Graziher magazine.  Can you tell us a little more about how this came about?

JaneL Claire Dunne, the editor of Graziher, initially found me through Instagram.  At the same time, I was following the launch of Graziher closely through social media.  I was thrilled to be featured in a profile story for their second issue, and Claire also asked me to contribute a recipe with photos. 

From there I have been fortunate to obtain a regular spot contributing recipes and photos for each quarterly issue.  This is a dream job as it is something I can do from our property, although I have been known to travel chasing perfect autumn leaves or spring blossom!  Working for Graziher challenges me to write achievable, reliable recipes and take engaging food photos, all while keeping within a seasonal and rural style. 

Graziher is an independently published magazine presenting stories about women who love the land.

Nicola: And lastly, we’d love for you to share why you love living off the land, and what the most fun part is?

Jane:  I love being constantly surrounded by the natural beauty of our property.  We have endless horizons, red dirt, blue skies and freedom that many people can only dream of.  Even during the driest and hottest times, when the landscape is harsh and unforgiving, I can still see the beauty in the sunrises and sunsets, and in the hardy plants and animals. Living off the land keeps us closely connected to the cycle of life, both the triumphant times as well as the heartbreaking ones.

The most fun part for me is having the independence to live our lives and raise our children in the wide open spaces with no traffic, shopping malls or noisy neighbours. The moments spent catching yabbies, riding horses and hosting lunches in our paddocks make up for the long hours and unpredictable nature of farming.  As a family, we are part of a hardworking, resilient community who we can rely on.  I can’t imagine ever swapping our lifestyle for suburbia.

Jane Smith

Blog:                    The Shady Baker

Instagram:          @theshadybaker

Writing for:        Graziher magazine

On wintry nights when the sky is clear and the air still, Jack Frost creeps across the countryside.  His cold breath and icy finger-tips spread frozen tidings through the atmosphere and across the ground.  Feathery patterns trespass over window panes, forming fern-like arabesques on their cold, smooth surfaces.

While it is easy to imagine these as the unfurling of some winter’s magic by a mischievous figure of fun, the florid patterns that form on our car windows and glass-topped patio tables are caused by a chain reaction of slowly gelling water.  As the spreading frost crystals meet imperfections in the surface such as specks of dirt or scratches, they branch off in new directions forming intricate, wintery patterns that are a joy to discover.

In deepest winter, when the weather is at its most solemn and still, comes the thick, spiny coating of the hoar frost.  Trees are silvered; leaves and grasses powdered.  The countryside takes on a wintery whiteness that is crisper, more defined than the blanketing softness that comes with a fall of snow.

The name “hoar” derives from the old English word “hor” or “har” for white or grey, and describes the appearance given by the mass of tiny ice crystals which scatter light in all directions so that everything coated with them appears white.

For the crystals to form the conditions have to be just right.  If both the air temperature and the dew point (the temperature at which water vapour in air condenses into liquid water) are both below freezing, a process known as sublimation takes place.  The moisture in the atmosphere turns from vapour to a solid (ice) without first passing through a liquid stage.

This is all takes place as we sleep, warmly tucked up under our blankets and with our hot water bottles.  And when we wake on a wintery morning to the chill of the first frost – to find the windows etched with the tracery of window frost or to gaze at the frozen wonderland created by a hoar frost – we experience one of the season’s most defining moments.

Here, on the estuary’s forgotten shore,
away from the road’s tarmac gravity,
the dark begins to pool early against
high boulder banks and the dune’s downslope.

Another swarm of dreams is scattering south.
With a luthier’s ear for resonance
and absences, the river channels out
its own meandering echo chambers.

Snow stillness; snow silence. And yet no snow:
“Too cold for it”. Deep cold, more than enough
to snuff the stars into a charred blackness
and scorch this great dark bore hole to the moon.

Everything is drawn of its ghosts

and now the frost begins to populate
this void, creeping from every crack and crevice,
extrapolating brittle feathered forms
so exact
humerus to radius
so intricate
radius to ulna;

each shiny new angle geared for flight yet still grounded come first light of morning.

Nicola:  The Seasonal Table is an online journal of slow food and slow living from your smallholding in rural England. Can you tell us some more about it?

Tom & Kathy:  The Seasonal Table is a collection of seasonal recipes and stories. Each is linked to what happens on our smallholding throughout the year. The recipes are inspired by the food we grow ourselves, sourced locally or wild-harvest on our foraging adventures. The stories are intrinsically linked with the provenance of the food.  We started the online journal as a resource for others. We thought it could be helpful to those interested in seasonal and sustainable food. As well as people considering embarking on a similar smallholding journey themselves.  

Nicola:  Can you explain to us what a smallholding is?

Tom & Kathy:  A smallholding is a house with an area of land that can be used for small-scale fruit and vegetable growing, or rearing animals.  This leads to a degree of (or complete) self-sufficiency for the people that live there. We decided to turn our cottage and 1.5 acres of land into a smallholding when we moved here from the city suburbs. We created a vegetable garden. We raised a flock of chickens to provide us with meat and eggs. We also reared a gaggle of geese, which help mow the grass and provide us with enormous eggs. The birds live in the established mixed fruit orchard that came with the cottage. We also built log stores to dry felled wood from the land, which we use in our wood-burning stoves. And we set up a little apiary with the beehives we brought with us from London, to provide us with honey and beeswax.  We're planning to continue developing the smallholding over the next few years. There's still so much we would like to do. Next on the list is keeping pigs, sheep or goats (we haven't decided which yet)...  

Nicola:  What inspired you to make the change from city living?

Tom & Kathy:  When we first moved into our flat in the city suburbs, the landlady kindly let us build a couple of raised garden beds.  It was here we first began growing our own fruit and vegetables. We also went on a beekeeping course, and we set up beehives on the patio by our kitchen window. It was on this small-scale we realised the joy of being able to produce our own food. During this time our evenings were spent watching television programs on rural living and growing food. These programs included River Cottage, It's Not Easy Being Green, Jamie at Home and The Edible Garden. We spent our lunch breaks in libraries and bookshops. We'd spend hours flicking through books on country living, farming, and smallholding.  As our interest grew we increasingly found ourselves drawn to the idea of moving to the country. We wanted to be able to have space to grow our own fruit and vegetables, plus keep animals too. After much deliberation, we decided to relocate to the hills of rural Somerset. It was one of the best decisions we've ever made.

Nicola:  You say that you’re living your version of The Good Life. Can you tell us what your lives look like on a daily basis? And what is the most fun part for you both? 

Tom & Kathy:  Our day starts with letting the chickens and geese out to free-range in the orchard. Spending time with the geese is one of our favourite parts of the day. They are such characters and are very entertaining to watch.  We both still work full-time, but when we aren't at work our days are filled with a variety of activities. These activities change as the seasons change. For example, in spring we sow seeds in the raised beds and hatch chicken eggs. Spring is also the time for the first beehive inspections. Summer is weeding, vegetable planting, berry harvesting, swarm control and honey extraction. Autumn is for apple pressing, bonfires and mushroom foraging. Winter is for pruning, tidying and planning for the year ahead.

 Throughout the year the kitchen remains busy. We cook and enjoy our produce when it’s at its best, as well as preserve and squirrel things away to last throughout the year. Nothing goes to waste.  Our close connection to seasonal change means we appreciate everything while it's here. We also look forward to what's to come and never tire of the experience. It's hard work, but very rewarding. We love every bit of it.

Nicola:  You share some amazing recipes on your blog. Is slow food something you've always been interested in? And what does slow food mean to you?

 Tom & Kathy:  Slow food is something we've become increasingly interested in over time. This interest has come hand in hand with our understanding of where our food comes from, and how it's produced. To us, slow food means taking responsibility for sourcing our own food in a sustainable way. It means having as little impact on the environment as possible. It is also about knowing the provenance of the ingredients we use.  

We grow, forage or produce as much of our own food as we can and take an organic approach, in doing so. The majority of the food we buy is also organic and, as much as possible, sourced locally. We find this keeps us grounded in the seasons throughout the year. It also ensures we are enjoying and appreciating food when it's at its best.  Our slow food approach is reflected in the recipes on The Seasonal Table.For example, during spring we posted a recipe for rhubarb crumble infused with wild watermint sugar.Spring is when the first sticks of rhubarb appear in our vegetable patch, and wild watermint leaves pop up along the stream.Then in summer, when courgettes were in plentiful supply and the chickens were laying eggs faster than we could keep up with, we posted a recipe for a brunch omelette with griddled courgette, nasturtiums and garden herbs.

Nicola:  We'd also love to know what slow living means to you? And how you incorporate this into your everyday life?

Tom & Kathy: the Slow living is very much connected to slow food for us. It's about enjoying the whole process of producing the food we eat, along with the tasks that come with doing so one of the best examples of how we combine slow food and slow living apple growing. Apple growing can be linked to almost everything we do on the smallholding. In spring the apple blossom appears.We watch our bees pollinate the trees and gather nectar to make honey.We then collect this honey in the summer.  

Once the apples arrive the geese and chickens happily munch the windfall fruit. This helps them produce the eggs we eat and, in the case of the cockerels, the meat. We eat the fresh apples ourselves too of course. We press them into juice (and subsequently cider and vinegar) and dry them into rings. We also turn them into a compote to store away and last us through the year.  In late autumn we rake up the fallen leaves and compost them into mulch for the vegetable beds. In winter we prune the trees, store and dry the cuttings.We then use can use these cuttings in our wood burners the following year. The ash from the fire, which is rich in potassium and minerals, is put under the apple trees to improve the soil. It also acts as a dust bath for the chickens.  

This never-ending cycle of production sums up slow food and slow living for us. The irony is that fitted around full-time jobs, this slow way of living is usually incredibly busy! We never have the time to do everything we would like to. But, for the most part, it is a rewarding and joyful experience.

 Nicola:  If any of our readers would love to follow in your footsteps of slow food and slow living, but the idea seems daunting, what advice would you give them?

Tom & Kathy:  Go for it! We would like to think that a lifestyle of slow food and slow living can be achieved anywhere. When we lived in London we grew our own fruit and vegetables, kept bees and sourced the rest of our food carefully. We visited farmers markets and scrimped wild plums from canal-side trees. We brewed our own beer and picked blackberries from park hedgerows. What we do now is a very similar thing, just on a bigger scale and in a different setting.

You can find more about Tom & Kathy below:

Website

Facebook

Instagram

Pinterest

Twitter

In a world that is in love with days that glow with the warmth of sunlight, the humble grey sky gets a pretty bad rep. What is there to love about the cool and the quiet of a cloudy, rainy day when the sun is hidden away and hibernating? There seems to be a universal consensus that the arrival of grey skies and rainy days ruin the best-laid adventure plans. Who wants to hike in the rain? Who wants to visit the coast when the sun isn’t shining? Well, to that I say, “never underestimate the power of an overcast day.” Some of the best adventures, some of the most memorable and inspiring days in the great outdoors start with a muddy puddle and drizzle dripping from the sky.

When a day is bright and the sky is blue, everything is presented exactly as it is: there is no mystery. On a rainy day, when the oppressive clouds come down from their kingdoms in the sky and perch on the tops of hills, the edges of the world begin to blur and the imagination is encouraged to run free. Instead of the crystal blue clarity of sunshine, a grey-skied day evokes a magical sense of wonder, in which anything and everything could be possible. Just look at the classic fairy-tale tropes: no story full of magic and mystery, myth and adventure begins on a day that is without the tell-tale rumble of thunder or the swirling mists that dance through the forests. A grey day is not simply preferable for a story to begin: it is necessary.

A blue sky presents the landscape as it is, but a grey sky presents a landscape with hidden factors, with layers of interpretation and meaning and reality. The landscape becomes our own and our imagination shapes it. Clouded mountains become sleeping dragons, rainy forests are suddenly home to all manner of mythical creatures, ghostly cloud-shapes haunt landscapes that otherwise would have been unremarkable. “Wuthering Heights” just would not have been the same if Cathy had wandered the moors, getting lost under a bright, shining sun. The grey, rainy weather was essential to creating the evocative, haunting moods captured in the novels by authors like the Brontë sisters and it still remains essential, all these years later.

Grey skies allow us to connect with our inner child. All we have to do is lose our heavy cloak of adulthood and look at the world with wonder, with curiosity, and with an unceasing optimism. Wander through a landscape that is damp with mist and mizzle and don't hide under the brim of umbrellas or hoods. Look ahead and find shapes in the shadows, dance with folklorish creatures, remember that this landscape is charged and energised by the dark, dreariness of the weather. Learn to associate grey with beauty, mystery, imagination, charm and unlearn the disappointed fear we all possess when a grey day rolls around. Grey-skied-days are a magical, in-between space between reality and fantasy. Embrace them.

Words & Images by Katy Who

- Wilson "Snowflake" Bentley

Homespun wisdom ready
to weave back into the edge
of some blossoming storm,
You waited on,
anticipating such spirit-harvests
springing from their own short seasons.
In imagination
or deep in long-held memory,
each tiny flake was already a window.
I see you, or maybe just think I do,
still looking through onto some dream meadow,
a trillion faceted blooms,
flickering in
a building breeze.

There’s a winter promise in the air. Taking the dog out for a final stroll late at night, all the signs are there - the sky is clear, the moon bright, and the temperature has dropped rather drastically. He’s on his way. And sure enough, in the morning, whilst still sleepy and warm under thick woolen blankets, I somehow can feel his presence. I’ll admit, it still takes me awhile to get out of bed, but I know that his intricate handiwork awaits admiration. 

Jack is quite the lad. 

As if by magic, the first hard frost of winter has changed the landscape as we know it. It’s an unfamiliar familiar. The lines of the hills look transformed. Overnight, he’s preserved the last glimpse of late summer in crystallised flashes of purple heather and turned spiders webs into new artworks. At this time of year, when nature seems to be coming to a close, Jack Frost forces us to see life from a different perspective. 

He’s an overture to the fourth movement - the finale before a new symphony begins in Spring.

Taking time to look at the little things can be breathtaking. Growing up as an inquisitive child in the countryside, I am grateful that it’s now second nature for me to seek out the small details that each season gifts us. And on that morning as dawn broke and the sunrise cast a warm glow across the valley, I was able to capture the fleeting beauty of Jack’s miniature creations as they disappeared before my eyes. 

As the first rays of the morning light broke through the trees and landed on Jack’s crystal carpet, it felt almost magic like. A glistening, shimmering wonderland. And while the droplets of water were frozen in place, I worked quickly to capture them in time.

I hope you will agree, it was something to get out of bed for. 

Words & Images by Country Meets Creative
 

A big thank you to Deliciously Ella for contributing one of her tasty recipes to get you ready for the colder months ahead! 

Recipe extracted from Deliciously Ella with Friends by Ella Mills, published on 26 Janury by Yellow Kite, £25 © Ella Mills 2017
 

CHILLI & GINGER PHO

This is a simplified version of the classic pho recipe, which means you can have dinner on the table in twenty minutes rather than leaving it to simmer for hours! The broth base is flavoured with sesame, ginger, spring onions, chilli and lime and then filled with lots of veggies and buckwheat noodles before being topped with fresh coriander. A perfect cosy, comforting supper that will warm and rejuvenate you.

Serves 4

NUT-FREE

2 portions of buckwheat noodles, or even courgette
25g dried shiitake mushrooms
2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil
generous thumb of root ginger, finely grated
2 garlic cloves, finely grated
2 red chillies, finely sliced
2 spring onions, each chopped into 4
2 tablespoons brown miso paste
2 tablespoons tamari
100g baby corn
250g bok choi, thinly sliced
120g beansprouts
2 carrots, peeled and julienned
handful of fresh coriander, roughly chopped
juice of 1 lime, plus lime wedges to serve

Prepare the noodles, if using, according to the packet instructions, then place in a sieve and rinse with cold water. Put the dried shiitake in a bowl, pour over 500ml of boiling water and set aside for 20 minutes.

Heat the sesame oil in a wok, or large sauté pan, then add the ginger, garlic, chillies and spring onions, and cook for a minute or so, stirring to make sure the garlic doesn’t burn.

Splash in a little water and let it bubble for a couple of minutes, then add the miso and tamari and 500ml more boiling water. Let this broth bubble away until the mushrooms are ready, then add them too, with their soaking water (except the dregs, as they may contain grit). Return to a nice simmer for 5 minutes.

Add the corn and bok choi, and simmer for 5 minutes. Stir in the beansprouts and carrots.

Divide the noodles between 4 bowls, then spoon the broth on top. Sprinkle with chopped coriander and a squeeze of lime juice, then serve with lime wedges.