It’s twilight, and I can only just make out the eaves of the house silhouetted against the sky.  A colony of bats flit in the tree tops, darting in and out of my field of vision, and it feels like I’m watching a game of tennis trying to keep up with them. The fire crackles and chuckles to my left, and I grasp every last bit of heat as the warmth of the sun has long disappeared. Tiny scurried movements alert me to the presence of a wood mouse, and I watch his blurry outline as he hurries back into the long grasses, pausing only once to sniff the air.

Remnants of a summer salad and glasses of kombucha are discarded on the grass; flies hum above in small clouds, eager for a feast of their own. The tea-light in our old lantern is about to burn out, and it’s almost time to embrace the darkness.

There’s something evocative and elusively magical about summer evenings. Hours stretch slowly, and even when the light fades, nature lures us outdoors. If you’d like to make the most of the season, why not adventure after your 9-5 and celebrate the twilight hours?

If, on the other hand, you’re more interested in embracing the sunlight, try waking early, travelling slowly, and make time for small celebrations, Keep an eye out for butterflies colouring the landscape and listen out for the garden warbler and the blackbird.

This piece is an extract from the editor's note of issue 4. Head over here to order a copy of the magazine.
 

Of course, every day when I walk to school or the shop or even just look out of the window, I’m struck by how lucky I am to live somewhere as beautiful as Skye. This is more often the case when we don’t have horizontal rain and howling winds, but still. It’s stunning. Everywhere.

I don’t use the car as often as I used to despite us living over 20 miles from town. But when I do drive, alone and not in any real hurry to get from A to B (or from B back to A at least), there are opportunities for exploration and small excursions. I put the radio on and drive on roads running alongside the sea or across open moorland with pine forests and rushing streams and mountains beyond. Sometimes the landscape is gentler, greener with deciduous trees and lush hollows and verges. Neat little crofts with solid whitewashed houses and lines of washing.

I’m aware that, if somewhere looks inviting and intriguing - an almost-hidden footpath leading down to the shore, a shady hollow filled with foxgloves - I can park the car somewhere sensible (the way people interpret the rules of the road up here has many islanders in a state of constant exasperation) before hopping out with my camera and going to explore. At the moment that often involves tramping through a dense and undulating ocean of bracken or stooping under leafy boughs and around tangles of cow parsley.

You discover so many delights during these spontaneous little adventures. Fuchsias growing deep in the trees by a brook, their delicate crimson lanterns trembling in the breeze. New vistas across the water to tiny islands and secret coves. Strange flowers and shrubs (the latest I identified only last night as ‘Salmon berries’ with their glowing amber-coloured fruits, native to North America yet growing quite happily here).

You see, if you have the chance to get out alone then you don’t need to ask for permission to pull over. There’s no explaining or justifying why this place, just here, is calling out to you to come and explore. It could take a minute or it could take an hour. A quick snap of those foxgloves or the decision to acknowledge that urge to wander a little further. Yes, it’s easily done up here. Everywhere is a photo opportunity. But allowing yourself a while longer sometimes, alone, to get a tiny bit lost and take the road less travelled is such a gift. Punctuate that journey home from the shops or the bank, the trip to see relatives, with a small detour up that pretty lane you usually pass. Stop in the part of town with those sweet houses and dreamy front gardens. Pause and lean across the gate and take in that field full of wheat or oilseed rape, dazzlingly yellow to the horizon. Give yourself a bit of breathing space, time to reset. By wandering up that footpath – even if you’ll be turning back around again after ten minutes – you’re doing something very important. You’re switching off. From the requests of others, from conversation. Instead you’re tuning in to the seasons and the details around you: nature. The sound of birds and buzzing insects and the wind in the trees. The smell of the earth and sun-warmed grass, the feel of leaves as you brush past. Indulge your curiosity. Reset. The obligations and their accompanying emotions: stress, resentfulness, mild anxiety: they can be let go for a little while as you take some time for yourself and savour your surroundings.

So the next time you’re alone and busily running errands, try and allow for some stopping and smelling of the proverbial roses. Schedule it in. Set out a bit earlier and return via the scenic route. It’s just as important as all those other tasks and deserves a place on the to-do list (and preferably not at the bottom!)

Nicola:  We’d love for you to start by telling us about what you do and how your business has recently evolved?  

Josephine:  Until the beginning of 2018 I was growing my own handmade business, creating country home décor using British-made textiles. However, since then, I’ve been going through a transitional period, creating my mentoring business. My mission is to help other handmade business owners get organised and create a plan to grow their business, so they can create the lifestyle they dream of.

For the past few years, I’ve been exploring how I can live a more authentic lifestyle. I’ve worked as a project manager in marketing for the last eight years, and I love a timeline and spreadsheet, but I was starting to feel a pull towards doing something more hands-on. As a result, I set up my handmade business.

This year, as I turned 30, I really started to think about what I wanted to do with my life. I dug deeper into what it was I loved about my handmade business. The making side was a creative escape I loved, but I was no master. What I really enjoyed, and where I flourished, was in the organisation and planning.  Which was interesting to me as it tied back to my project management day-job. 

While growing my handmade business I had developed a super simple way to review, organise and plan my business so I could focus on delivering my own creative work. I’m now using this method to help other makers get organised and plan better in their business. Sometimes it’s the things that come easily to you that you don’t realise are useful to others. So far I’m really enjoying helping other handmade business owners plan to grow their business in a focused and intentional way. 

Nicola:  What do you love most about what you do, and what inspires you? 

Josephine:  The thing I love most about what I do is helping makers grow their handmade business so they can create a lifestyle they love. All the work I do with makers ties back to their personal goals and aspirations. I firmly believe everybody has the power to build a business that gives them a happy and fulfilled life, doing what they love.  But to make that happen it’s essential to have a focused plan & clear direction.

Through my work, I get to meet makers who are incredibly inspiring.  There is so much talent out there and many small, creative businesses deserve more exposure. These makers get me excited about what I do, and I love helping them build a sustainable handmade business. 

I also love the light bulb moment when makers realise that keeping on top of their business and planning for growth, doesn’t need to be painful or time-consuming.  That it is actually fun and rewarding. I also see makers realise just how much they’ve achieved when they stop for a moment and look back. By taking them through my process I’ve seen makers fall in love with their businesses all over again 

The countryside around me is also a source of endless inspiration, and time spent outdoors always lifts my spirits. When I’m struggling to write, or I’m stuck on a project, I’ll head out for a walk with my dogs. Without fail, after about half an hour, my mind relaxes and that’s when the magic happens. Ideas start to flow, and the brick walls I had come up against whilst staring at a screen start to fall down. 

If I’ve had a bad day or am feeling sluggish I sometimes go out for a run (only when I’m feeling really enthusiastic). I often have to keep stopping to record voice notes of ideas I’ve had, or solutions to some of my client’s sticking points. I always come back from my outdoor adventures feeling happier and more relaxed.  

Nicola:  How did your creative process as a maker inform your planning process?

Josephine:  When I was running my handmade business I found it hard to juggle the making as well as everything that comes with a creative business. For a lot of makers, their business developed from a love of their craft.  I meet so many makers who live for the making but struggle to find the time or motivation to work on the other areas of their business. However, in my experience of growing a handmade business, it’s essential to have a plan and to be intentional about the areas of the business you’re giving your time.  

Take launching a new product for example. I found that the making is just part of what needs to be done. First I’d have the inspiration, sketch it out a few times and make a prototype. Then I’d have to source UK-made materials that fitted with my brand values and aesthetic. Using these I’d make a prototype and tweak it until I was happy. Then would come the actual production. I would make a template and some stock.  This would then need photographing and those images would need editing. Product listings would also need to be written and uploaded to my website and other sales channels. I’d then need to promote my products on social media and in my email newsletter. Once the product started to sell I’d need to handwrite a thank you note for each customer, package them up and post them followed by managing my finances and paying my suppliers. So just in that one example, there are a lot of tasks that come with the making that are essential in order to grow a sustainable business. I quickly found that writing ‘launch new product’ on my to-do list made me feel so disheartened when I hadn’t done all of the above within a week.  

I am a structured person by nature, and I’m a project manager by trade, so after a while breaking down all the tasks I needed to do to complete a project started to come easily to me. After about a year in business, I had developed a simple and quick 3-step approach to reviewing, organising and planning my business.

Firstly I would look at my stats and performance, how business was going, and more importantly how I was feeling and how my business was supporting my dream of working for myself and living the lifestyle I was craving. 

Secondly, I’d get myself organised. It’s too easy to let finance and the materials you’re holding run away with you, so I’d get everything back under control.

Finally, I would look at what I’d reflected on, how my business was supporting my goals, what was doing well and which areas needed more focus. From this, I’d pick a maximum of three areas where I’d focus my efforts for the following three months. This half-day per month spent reviewing, organising and planning would help me feel in control and stay confident in my business. Which for me was essential to growing a business is an emotional rollercoaster! 

Around this time I was also meeting more and more makers who were feeling overwhelmed by all of the things they felt they needed to be doing in their business. I realised that a lot of makers I was talking to didn’t know what their most profitable product was, or weren’t selling their beautiful and unique products online because they didn’t know where to start. I knew that the simple 3-step approach I had devised for my own business could help other handmade sellers too.

Nicola:  Can you tell us about where you live, the space you work from and what a day in your life looks like at the moment?

Josephine:  I live in the Test Valley in Hampshire, UK. It is a gorgeous area surrounded by streams and rivers, and with lots of willow trees and wildlife. 

There are plenty of cosy country pubs in the area for a warming Sunday lunch in winter. In summer the nearby town of Stockbridge is the perfect place to meet friends for coffee, and have a mooch down the high street which is full of independent shops.  

However, as an introvert, I’m most happy when I’m at home, emerging from the house to go for a walk or hang out in the garden. Our house is situated up a farm track where it’s very quiet, apart from the odd tractor. 

My workspace is the box-room in our house.  In here I just about have space for a desk to work from and storage for all of my fabric, photography props and sewing machine. At the moment my boyfriend and I are renting so I can’t wait to have a place of our own where I can create my dream workspace.

My favourite thing about where I live is the birdsong.  It makes the ultimate alarm clock. 

At the moment I work part-time as a project manager for a conservation charity. I love working with a brand whose ethics I believe in, however ultimately my goal is to go full time with my business.

The rest of the time I’m working on growing my business. Often my days will be spent writing for my blog, planning workshops, creating course materials and taking photographs for my website. Getting better at photography is something I love at the moment and fulfills another way of getting creative in my new business. 

Working on my business has become a complete obsession. I love it! I’m getting better at making myself slow down but I’ve got a long way to go. I’d like to make Sundays a day off, but at the moment I’m always photographing or writing on the weekends. 

Nicola:  When you aren’t working and creating what is your favourite way to spend your time?

Josephine:  You’ll usually find me in a pair of wellies with a cup of tea in hand. I love getting outdoors. The garden is my favourite place in summer and there is a section of the river nearby where you can swim (only on very hot summer days for me)! I love going there. The water is crystal clear and the dogs enjoy splashing around in it.

Walking the dogs is my favourite way to switch off and it’s when I feel most connected with nature. My boyfriend and I have three dogs; a Springer Spaniel who’s now 12 and enjoying a slower paced life and lots of cuddles, a Sprocker Spaniel who’s got way too much energy, and a very loveable Labrador puppy who’s eight months old. Having the dogs around makes it a bit of a mad (and muddy) house at times but we couldn’t live without them. We’d have nothing to talk about! 

Since my handmade business has taken a backseat I’ve had a real hankering to make all sorts of things again. I love to cook and sew.  I’m not a master at either but it gives me great pleasure to make something with my hands.

The seasons always inspire me to create.  Whether it’s a summer dress, a winter wreath, blackberry jam or sloe gin it will always be triggered by the changing seasons. I also love to forage for seasonal food and foliage. I think it’s magical that you can make the most beautiful things with what’s in nature. 

Nicola:  And lastly, if someone reading your story were inspired to follow their own creative dream, what advice would you give them?

Josephine:  If you haven’t started your creative venture yet, the best advice is to just start. I know this sounds clichéd, but as soon as you take action you’ll start learning more about yourself, where your strengths are and what you want more of in your life. 

If you’re already deep in the throes of working on your creative venture, and you’re feeling a little lost or overwhelmed, here’s a brief run through of my 3-step process to review, organise and create an action plan to take your creative business or project forward. 

1)    Look back and review

Have a look back over the last three to six months. Ask yourself why you started pursuing your creative dream and what your personal aspirations and goals are. Is the work you’re doing still on track with that? Check in with your gut instinct.  How are you feeling about your business/ creative venture? It could be you need to adjust what you’re doing to fit more of what you love into your work.  Or is there something you’ve been meaning to have a go at for ages you think you’ll be great at? 

Look back at your stats, website traffic, sales, income, outgoings, most successful blog post, favourite product you’ve made. Are there any learning’s you’ve made over the last few months you can build from? 

Jot it all down in a notebook and see if there are any recurring themes, and any words or phrases you’ve repeated. Have a think about where your opportunities lie. You might have noticed you get your best sales at markets and that you love chatting to customers one to one, so you want to fit more markets in. Or it could be that you’ve seen a gap in your product range and you want to create that new product line you’ve had on your mind for ages. 

Pick out a maximum of three areas you want to focus on over the next three months.

2)    Get organised

Start recording your progress each month. This doesn’t need to take more than 20 minutes and it will give you something to look back over, so you can see just how much you’re achieving over time. Keep a note of your website traffic, most popular product, income, outgoings, most successful blog post, social follower numbers etc. This can also help you spot trends or areas where you’re doing really well, as well as areas that might need a bit more love.

3)    Make an action plan

 Take your three focus areas and turn them into goals for the next three months. It might be that you want to create a new product line or start learning a new skill. Break each goal down into actionable chunks. If one of your goals is too big to achieve in a three-month period, break it down into something smaller. 

Plot each individual action you need to take over the next three months into a diary, wall planner or calendar, and you’re ready to get going. And remember to reward yourself at the end of those three months!

You can find out more about Josephine on her website or you can follow her on Instagram and Pinterest.

Bumblebees are synonymous with summer. Their gentle buzzing accompanies our wanders through the meadows beyond the house, where buttercups, red clover and ox eye daisies dot the landscape and provide a bountiful banquet for hungry bees. But habitats such as this have become ever rarer. The loss of around 97% of our flower rich meadows since the middle of the twentieth century is a major contributing factor to the decline in UK bee numbers, affecting bumblebees, honeybees, and solitary bees alike.

While it’s tempting to rush out and buy packets of wildflower seeds to sow meadows of our own, maintaining a successful wildflower area requires a degree of careful management. But there are other, simpler ways, to create pollinator-friendly patches in our gardens and allotments. Avoiding showy bedding plants and opting instead for flowering perennials, herbs, bulbs, and shrubs; planting tussocky grasses (for shelter and hibernation); and providing a source of water with safe places for the bees to land (such as a small water-filled dish with some pebbles) are all relatively easy ways to support our bee populations.

In the garden here, June is in full bloom, with plenty of plants to attract a variety of bumble (and other) bees. The plants proving popular are the Yellow flag irises (Iris pseudacorus), Geranium phaeum “Black Widow”, Geranium macrorrhrizum Spessart, Allium christophii, Geums, Welsh poppies (Meconopsis cambrica), Comfrey, and Knautia macedonica. But the busiest banquet of all takes place at back of the garden where the Deutzia’s powdery blooms are covered in a flurry of bees. At any one time there are Tree bumblebees, Early bumblebees, Southern cuckoo bumblebees, Common Carder bees, Buff-tailed bumblebees and White-tailed bumblebees. They bustle and bump into one another in their feeding frenzy, buzzing and clambering over the pollen-dusted blooms. Already the task of identifying the different species has become more challenging as male bumbles now join the throng. And as summer wears on bumblebee ID becomes all the more difficult. The bees’ hairy bodies become sun-bleached, making the usual colours and patterns of stripes harder to distinguish. Many bumbles even develop bald patches on their thoraxes; the hairs eventually rubbing away as the bees fly repeatedly in and out of their nest entrances.

As evening falls the frenetic buzz of busy bumbles lessens as the females return to their nests for the night. A stillness descends over the garden. But here and there, tucked into a closed flower head or under the starry blooms of the alliums, sleepy, tousled male bumblebees have taken themselves off to rest. They will spend the night outdoors, awakening next morning a little bleary-eyed, until the early sun gradually warms them and their energy levels rise, ready for another day of foraging.

Bladder campion (Silene vulgaris), one of several new plants I’m experimenting with this year.  Their rounded shape and vivid whiteness offsets strikingly against the different greens of leaves and ferns in the background.

A thousand visual soliloquies that combine to weave a powerful narrative: gardening is a silent act of creativity.  And it’s also a pastime that is experiencing somewhat of a renaissance. And this resurgence is truly multi-faceted.  From the hashtags and hipsters of Instagram that are fuelling a thriving trade in exotic houseplants, to the swathes of gentle souls recognising that gardening offers true freedom from frenetic living, gardening is very much in vogue.

A real success story from my local market last summer.  Its common name of Lamb’s tail (Chiastophyllum oppositifolium) needs no explanation.  Its hanging fronds form clumps of fascination: the red and silver of the huechera (silver scrolls) in the background give it an even crisper vividness.

Cultivating curiosity in the garden (or a balcony, where my early exploits took place) is increasingly offering people a raft of reasons to re-connect with nature.  And for me, that can only be a good thing.  Slower living, reconnection with food, the need for patience in a throwaway world: gardening is a teacher we would all do well to heed.

But this article seeks to celebrate the creativity that gardening can offer: a call to arms to embrace the aesthetically pleasing and commit to a life of creative experimentation.  I guarantee that your soul – and your soil – will be all the richer for it.

Huechera (siver scrolls).  Purchased last summer for its evergreen nature, although that label is somewhat of a misnomer.  Silver, green and a warm maroon underneath, this plant surprised me this year when it issued forth great stems of budding flowers.  A shared favourite of both myself, and the many bees that visit it contentedly throughout these warm days.

Finding your own eye is key.  After a decade of gardening (from crops in pots, an allotment, to my humble garden), I’m only just starting to scrape the surface in terms of what I truly like.  And what you like will be different.  So much of garden ‘design’ and ‘landscape gardening’ can feel elitist and isolating; dictatorial: I urge you to pursue what you like with joyful abandon; creativity, not conformity.

Secondly, anyone who knows me will know that I like to wax lyrical about the joy of pots.  Tiny canvases, they offer a mobility that affords a freedom and playfulness to proceedings.  As seasons progress, plants bloom at different times (bolt at different times), flower at different times: pots offer the ability to re-create displays and move things to create new micro landscapes.

Embrace beautiful failure.  I’m in my eighth summer in the Peak District and I’m still watching glorious disasters unfurl and unfold in the garden!  Experimentation is part – perhaps the – joy of creativity in any discipline.  So many of the plants, structures and arrangements that I’ve developed lifelong love for, have been serendipitous, accidental, stumbled upon by chance.  Sticking to ‘guaranteed results’ results in precisely that: a formulaic act with all mystery surgically removed.

Get started.  I germinated my passion for horticulture on a balcony in Hackney, growing vegetables and flowers in a space that was smaller than a standard-sized double bed.  It can be oh-so-easy to feel that you don’t have a big enough space, so if further validation is needed, seek out the small gardens feature on this series of Gardeners’ World.

And lastly, I’d urge everyone to focus on the details, rather than the overall picture.  Embrace the small details.  One of the many pleasures I derive from my own tiny garden, is the micro, rather than the macro.  Of course, my aim is to nurture a vista of totality, but my joy is in the tiny details.  The bladder wort that is finally in bloom; the lamb’s tail that attracts an endless cycle of tireless bees; the meadow buttercups that bask in the stored heat of the drystone wall: a microcosm of magnificence.

Plants offer a canvas of creativity that is fluid, continual and indulgent: if you possess a creative bent, and even the smallest inkling of love for nature, I urge you to experiment with the colours, shapes, textures and structures that gardening affords.  Your outlook will be both physically and mentally all the better for it.

Nicola:  Tell us about your journey to starting Jessica Cooper Ceramics and the work you do?

Jessica:  Working with clay has been a long and non-linear journey! When I was a small child I made mud pies at the bottom of the garden, shaping them carefully and then cooking them in the greenhouse.  I didn’t know that making things was a career option, so I went out into the world and became a mental health worker.

I started working with clay as an adult when my partner bought me evening classes for Christmas. He could see I needed somewhere to focus my creative energy (I was making a lot of ugly sewing projects at the time!). I was lucky to be shown the ropes by George Ormerod, a very encouraging teacher. I bought my own kiln and set up a little studio at home. I met and apprenticed with a Cumbrian potter, Walter Storey, who taught me to throw and showed me the ropes of glaze chemistry.

I have been selling my work for five years and it has changed radically in that time from small, slab built pieces to larger, wheel thrown domestic ware.

Nicola: You say you hope to make imperfect and lively pots that slot into someone’s hand with the pleasing comfort of coming home.  Can you explain to us what this means to you?

Jessica:  For me, pottery is about a feeling more than about the object you produce. I try to create conditions where I can focus intuition, attention, and heart as I work, in the hope these feelings come through in the pieces I make.  My hope is that in using my pots, people connect to some feeling within themself.  I suppose it is a bit to do with mindfulness, being present in the moment and trying to stay true to myself and make my own pots. I naturally throw quickly and like to glaze with energy rather than precision. I enjoy sloshing things about and getting really messy in every process!

I make pots to be used in homes, kitchens and gardens, and I suppose my quiet hope is that tea will be drunk on back steps, a cake will be spooned from bowls and that my pots will get to play a small role in the beautiful humanity of daily life.

Nicola: I’d love to know more about the process of how your work develops from initial idea to the final piece.

Jessica:  I work in a very intuitive way. I find that the more I try to plan my work the more it goes wrong and doesn’t feel like mine. I show up in the studio on a regular basis and make things. Showing up and making is the only important part! I make a lot of rubbish and recycle a lot of pots.

I also keep sketchbooks, mostly written rather than illustrative. I use a kind of personal lexicon to express my feelings through my work. Every form, texture, colour, and decision has a meaning for me. So in this way, if I have something I want to express in a pot, a story or a moment, I use the lexicon to guide my choices. I also try to remain playful and light about my work, I remind myself that it is just pottery, something to find joy in, not to take too seriously.

Nicola: You live and work in a remote part of the North Pennines.  Can you tell us more about your home, your workspace, and what a typical day for you looks like?

Jessica: I live at one of the highest points in the North Pennines. Our home looks out over Cross Fell, and into the Eden Valley. Our views are really exceptional. I have a shed-come-studio in the garden with kiln, wheel and clay. It’s a simple workspace and I love working with my door open or taking my wheel to throw outside on a sunny day. I also work in the shared studio at the Alston Pottery, where I apprenticed, to make some of the bigger pieces.

At the moment a typical day is spent with my one-year-old son. I work in a flexible way around his needs. Each week we plan out our family schedule to ensure I have child-free time in which to work, usually two days or 16 hours over the week. I find it critical for our domestic life to have designated time for work, otherwise family, business and domestic life can become a messy tangle of unmet needs. Generally, I try to be doing one thing at a time, but this is a juggle!

Nicola: I know your work is inspired by nature.  Can you tell us why nature is so important to you, and how it influences the work you do?

Jessica: Often I feel moved by intangible parts of the natural world, the sunlight fading matt blue over a fell, the quiet stillness of early winter mornings before the sun comes up. I try to celebrate these feelings and tell the stories of life lived in a wild landscape through my pots.

Nicola: And lastly, if someone reading your story was inspired to follow their own creative dream, what advice would you give them?

Jessica: I would say that it is ok if you feel like the odd one out or a bit of a black sheep. I come from a family where my way of living and working is pretty alternative, compared to the traditional corporate jobs and lifestyles my parents and siblings have.

Creative dreaming and living are often about working out what your own measures of success and wealth are, and what you need to feel rich in a whole sense. It is a perfectly admirable dream to find a way of living and working that works for you

You can find out more about Jessica below:

Website 

Facebook

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Sarah Spencer believes that all living things share natural principles that allow them to grow, stay healthy, be adaptable, develop resilience, become connected and pass on what they’ve learned. She maintains that if we can learn to access the wisdom of the forest we can live happier, healthier and more productive lives ourselves. Today, she tells us a bit more about her work and outlook on life...

The Think like a Tree programme was created as a practical and accessible way for anyone to harness the wisdom of the natural world, and apply it in their own life.

Whilst designing landscapes, gardens and woodlands, I realised that the same principles that make natural ecosystems so successful and enduring could be applied to our own lives. There are a set of natural principles that all living things share, and by looking at these principles, through the lense of trees, we get back to the basics of what is really important in life, like growth, resilience, health and positive relationships.

We share a common ancestor with trees (about 2 billion years ago!), so these are the fundamentals of life.  But trees have had a 280 million year head start in solving the problems that life throws at us, so we would be foolish to ignore all that evolutionary wisdom. 

Think like a tree came into being following my own struggles with ill-health and coping with it forced me to re-evaluate my life and how I can live a fulfilling life, but within my own limits.  And I took a long hard look at how my environment was affecting me, both in terms of my immediate surroundings and the wider world.   I decided I needed to start living more consciously, both in terms of my own wellbeing but also that of the people and other living things around me.  This way of living radically improved my life, allowing me develop my own unique solutions to my problems, and regain my health from a low point of spending over a year in bed.

The principles are taken from permaculture, a nature-inspired design system, and biomimicry, which uses nature to design products and find technical solutions.  And some of them are simply observed whilst I was walking in the woods. 

Once I embarked on this process people kept asking me about it and so I developed the courses where I live in woodlands in South Derbyshire to share my learning.  I am now also working on an online course and a Think like a Tree book, to be published next year.

I'm guided by the natural principles every day - they are really easy to follow, you can observe them in your immediate surroundings and you interpret them in the way that’s relevant to you.   Anyone can do it!   If you see a dandelion pushing through the cracks in the pavement it has something to teach you about resilience and determination. A tree that harbours an ecosystem of insects and birds can teach us a lot about developing co-operative relationships.  Some of those that I use every day are “slow and small solutions” that help me achieve my goals in a more effective way; “use your energy where it can have the most effect" guides me to focus my attention on the important things, and not waste time on the pointless ones (like overthinking things);  “value diversity” helps me to see the good in everyone I meet, when so often it’s easy to gravitate away from those who are different; and my personal favourite is “use your edge” which reminds me step out of my comfort zone and take risks, because that’s what allows exciting new things to happen.   That’s exactly what a birch tree does when it colonizes new ground.

When I teach shorter workshops I can see that even after an hour’s session lightbulbs start going on and I get reactions like “I’ve never thought about it like that!” or “I’d no idea I had so much in common with trees!”  “I didn’t realize what I was feeling is perfectly natural!”.  I think people like the fact that this is about learning from the natural world, and goes beyond simply enjoying the benefits of being in the outdoors (of which of course there are many).During the six week course we go into the principles in depth and the more people engage the more benefits they get.   It’s called Think like a Tree for a reason – you really do have to think!  The feedback has been overwhelming.

The full course follows a 12 step design cycle that allows participants to design for their own unique circumstances, incorporating the principles each week.  So far people have used it for designing a career move, their retirement, their health, their confidence and wellbeing, and to design ways to support others.   But essentially it can be used for every circumstance, from corporate culture, to bring up children. I like the unique approach – every tree is unique so why should we think that a one size fits all method should work for our own problems?

Many people have busy and stressful lives these days so it’s understandable that getting out in nature is not always a priority.  But mindsets are shifting as to the benefits to health and wellbeing, and that is a great motivator.  Usually it’s the thought of getting outside that is the hurdle and when we do we love it.  If you ask people about their most exhilarating moment, when they felt the most alive, it’s usually in the outdoors – like seeing an amazing sunset, or even sitting round a campfire enjoying the company of others.  I wish we could bottle that feeling and sell it!

With all that in mind it’s important to find a way to incorporate contact with nature in your routine, by simple switches, like substituting going to the gym for a going for a walk, or walking to the shops via the park rather than driving.  I love gardening, and seeing new life emerge from tiny seeds at the same time as my own energy levels rise in the spring is exciting (and I get to eat the results!), but each person can find their own sweet spot of wellbeing or their “flow”.  I can guarantee it doesn’t happen sitting at home in front of a screen.

Young people are growing up in a world where they don’t have the freedom or the exposure to the outdoors in the same way as in the past, and they have many more pressures.  I trained as a Forest School leader and initiatives like this are making fantastic strides, but if you grow up divorced from the outdoors you risk becoming scared by it.  There are many children and adults who fear the outdoors, and don’t like getting dirty, and that makes me very sad.

It’s a societal problem – billions of pounds are being spent encouraging people to spend their weekends in shopping centres, and very little encouragement is given to being outside (which is free), essentially because big corporates are losing money every time we do so.

Parents, schools and the government all have a role to play in giving young people a reason to get outside, and from that they can learn to gain enjoyment and find purpose from it.  Children are also very capable of learning from the natural principles and a good one to start with is “feed your roots” asking them what that might mean in making sure they are growing up healthy and strong.

There are some great ways to start thinking more like a tree:

• Get out in nature every day.

• Observe the patterns in nature and in your own life – sleep, food, exercise, energy.

• Think about your core values. Trees have a strong purpose and people are happier when they have purpose too.

• Improve your surroundings – small and slow solutions every day.

• Nurture your relationships.

• Embrace change and challenge – develop resilience.

• Think for the future - every tree that has ever lived has contributed to the creation of the soil and the abundance of our planet, so never think your own actions can’t change the world. Just make sure it’s in a positive way.

 

Further Details

Six week courses take place in south Derbyshire, at Sarah's smallholding and at Whistlewood Common, a new community woodland social enterprise that runs practical courses on a wide range of sustainable subjects.  The woodlands are in the National Forest in a beautiful location in the heart of England.  Sarah can also tailor workshops to corporate or other groups and schools. She will also be running a free workshop at Timber Festival, 6-8 July.

For more information and to sign up to the email list see www.thinklikeatree.co.uk or follow on Facebook or Instagram @thinklikeatree where Sarah regularly posts interesting things about trees.

Ancient landscape:
your stoic features
whisper renewed wisdom
with every tidal
turn.
 
Your craggy coastline
Immovable stone
and dancing flower
a living monument
to contradiction.
 
Expansive, far-reaching
and without
perceptible limit;
you simultaneously manage
to serve
as the very symbol
of boundary:
 
An end,
a finish,
a full stop:
a literal
punctuation mark
on a pock-marked
landscape.
 
Perhaps
(perhaps)
It is because
of this
 
strange
 
binary
 
magnetism
 
that we
are so drawn
to the ends of the earth
to feel so small
in your presence.
 
There are many types of landscape
In which to lose oneself
but it is coastal terrain
that delivers
the most evocative
of escapism.
 
You guide me;
yellow gorse flower
on either side
of a stony track
guides my soul
as I approach
your extremities;
my feet feel as if
they have walked this path
in different times,
through different bodies.
 
I stand before you
suddenly very human
 
frail
 
insignificant
 
and feeling
that contradiction
deep inside of me
as saltwater dances on the breeze
with an alchemy
conjured up
by eternity Herself.
 
I am free.

Food provides the human race with a common ground. It's a basic human need that is essential for our survival.  How we source, produce and cook our food is different for us all but it's becoming a global interest in how we can do it better, with less impact and more consideration. 

I've been Vegetarian for 20 years and over the last year, I have been making a switch to becoming a Vegan. This is how I've been doing my bit for the world.  Food is my second most favourite thing  (after adventuring) and I'm always ecstatic to meet people who cook in different ways.  I carry around a mental notebook of these culinary influences and add them to my own pallet.  My favourite type of food includes spoonfuls of ethics, pinches of seasonality, plenty of slow and packed full of flavour and colour!

I had a joyful foodie experience recently during a glamping retreat, where I met Barney from Infamous Catering.  He cooked a 3 course Southern Indian Vegan curry, with freshly foraged goods for a group of ladies, who'd spent the day climbing up waterfalls and exploring dark caves. Our appetites were incredible!

Barney's pots and pans were giving off some seriously good aromas as he leisurely stirred his concoctions.  Next, the freshly foraged wild garlic was crushed and chopped and added to our appetizers. My mouth is watering now thinking back to his generous portions, as he piled them high on our eager palates.  He looked relaxed and at home in the camp's kitchen, telling us what fueled his passion for cooking and his love for seasonal foods.  I like to think there are more and more people in the world who care about where their food comes from, how it's produced and showcasing this with easy to cook, and lots of love enthused meat-free dishes. 

There's something incredibly special when there's a moment of silence during meal time as we take time to appreciate what's in front of us. Our visuals took in the rich colours of the mild curry and dahl, our nose inhaled those slowly cooked spices and our taste buds indulged in a feast.  I dipped my fingers into the freshly made chutneys-enjoying their sweet taste combined with the savory popodoms.  We broke out into chatter about the day's events and how delicious our food was.  We proposed a toast with locally brewed beer and apple juice made in the Wye Valley, before tucking into a peanut butter and dark chocolate cake. The last piece saved, for Barney's partner as an apology for using up the last of the peanut butter! 

When our food comes from an honest and ethical place, I think there's no better taste.  The concept of slow food, like slow living, is a movement which is educating the world for the better.  Knowledge is power as they say.  I am really thankful to those who want to invite the world to try another way. It's not easy breaking away from traditions and cultural habits but for the sake of our future, change is welcomed on my plate. 

Note: this is a sponsored post. I received this delicious meal whilst glamping at Hidden Valley Yurts. All 'mmms' were my own. 

You can find more at:

www.hiddenvalleyyurts.co.uk

www.infamouscateing.co.uk

Nicola:  You are a new Mum, artist and seasonal explorer who went from burnt out city girl to a slow living advocate in the countryside.  Can you tell me more about this journey?

Becky:  I’ve always craved connection, but it was only when I moved to the farm a few years ago I truly found it. Before then I struggled by in the city feeling a bit lost and very disconnected from my surroundings, my creativity and my health.

When I made the move to Broughgammon Farm to live with my then boyfriend (now husband) it was a huge leap of faith, but it paid off.

Through working and living on the farm I began to get interested in gardening, the seasons, slow food and living naturally. I began to meal plan, swap all my skincare and makeup to natural options, minimise my wardrobe, as well as paint again and I shared these breakthroughs on my blog.

As well as giving me a sense of connection and peace, this more anchored, slower and natural life has been beneficial in healing my autoimmune condition. I’m now aware of how little we need to be happy, how the small things can bring so much joy and how powerful nature is!

I’ve also just become a mum and I’m excited to share this beautiful country life with my son and learn the art of slow motherhood!

Nicola: You approach life from a holistic angle, from what’s on your plate to the products you use on your skin, and even what’s going on in your mind. Can you tell me more about how you incorporate this into everyday life? 

Becky:  The concept of slow living sums up how I aim to live. It’s about taking time to reconnect with nature and our surroundings every day, and about bringing a sense of ritual to the little things.

Even on chaotic days I like to do something small to bring me back to the moment and to nature.  It could just be picking fresh flowers from the garden to put beside my bed, or using lavender essential oil to help aid sleep at night. I’m always thinking of how I can be more present and natural, and remembering to take the time to breath in the beauty of the day.

Nicola:  I’d love for you to tell us about the courses you run?  Who they are for and what it is you teach?

Becky:  I run an online course called Natural Living that teaches people how to rekindle their connection with nature and live a more natural life. It has lots of lovely projects, from blending herbal teas to making your own natural skincare. It shares everything I have learnt over the past few years that’s had a powerful and transformational effect on the quality of my life and health. 

I also organise artisan slow-food classes here on our farm (Broughgammon Farm). We teach everything from foraging to cheese making. 

Nicola:  Can you tell me about your podcast and the message you share?

Becky:  I have a podcast called Nature & Nourish, which chats about how we can live a more connected and slower life in tune with nature. I celebrate each month with a podcast episode dedicated to it. This helps me remember which food is seasonal, what events are happening and what I can look out for in nature.

Other topics covered include living mindfully, the environment and everything natural!

Nicola:  You live in a little seaside town called Ballycastle on the North Coast of Ireland.  Can you tell me more about where you live and what a typical day in your life is like?

Ballycastle is such a gorgeous place to live; it’s a cheery seaside town that has retained its sense of community. Everyone knows everyone and I love that! I

depend hugely on my local town for running shopping errands, going to the library, baby classes and also showcasing my paintings in the local gallery. We live just outside of the town on our ethical farm surrounded by fields. I love having this space as it fuels my creativity.

A typical day in my life is varied especially since becoming a Mum, although it usually contains plenty of tea, gardening, writing and brainstorming future plans with my farmer husband. 

We’re aiming to become more permacultural over the next few years and possibly build an eco house!

Nicola:  And lastly, if someone reading your story were inspired to follow their own creative dream, what advice would you give them?

Becky: Don't wait for the perfect time. I’m a big believer that we should live in the moment and live for today. When I made the break from the city to the countryside it certainly wasn't ideal timing, but on reflection I wish I’d done it sooner! Perfectionism can really hold us back, but if you have a dream you should make steps towards that right now!

You can find Becky on Instagram.

A Gur (Yurt) has been a distinctive part of nomadic living, especially to Central Asia for at least three thousand years.  Perhaps one of the most famous men in history, Genghis Khan, was known for describing a number of significant events related to Yurts.

These large round spaces were designed to be easily moved. They were simple in design yet sophisticated in the build.  A yurt is made out of wooden and felt structures and would have provided spaces for cooking, cleaning and a communal area for an entire family away from the harsh elements outside.  Tradition meant that the western side was considered the male dwelling whilst on the eastern side, women would work and live. Despite this cultural divide, they would have all shared the heat from a wood burning stove, with a long-reaching chimney.

Recently, I was lucky enough to stay at Hidden Valley Yurts, based in a quiet valley consisting of 80 acres of land in South Wales.     There were 5 original Mongolian yurts, each hand painted by just one person! The attention to detail was fascinating. I adored the original features such as a Mongolian bed (dubbed the princess bed by younger guests) and my oh so comfortable dwelling for the week. 

Each morning, the light-flooded in by a skylight, a natural prompt to explore the new day. The opening also allowed the burner's smoke to escape. It was probably one of my most favourite features. There’s something calming about being woken up by the sun and guided off to sleep by the moon. My body felt in sync with the natural rhythms of Mother Nature.

The gentle curves of our yurt’s space encouraged us to all sit together and talk until the small hours of the morning, whilst sharing the warm glow from the fire. With no TV, limited phone signal and any other modern-day distractions. It was a chance to just switch off, be in the moment and get back to basics with our natural surroundings and fellow humans.

Something we all need a bit more of and often.

I feel that our modern homes with man-made materials, dividing walls and doors seem to cut us off entirely from the natural world, and can disconnect us with those only next door.  I'm thankful that Yurts like these are still around to enjoy and help to give us a fresh perspective on just how important communities have been and always will be.

Disclaimer: this is a sponsored post. Whilst I haven't been paid to write this post, I was asked to stay at Hidden Valley yurts in return for my honest views. 

For glamping in the Wye Valley visit: www.hiddenvalleyyurts.co.uk

Making artwork is how I see and feel the world that surrounds me. Pressing the tip of a brush to paper, feeling the subtleties of my materials, putting down just the right colour… this is what helps me to understand. The act of creating helps me to reflect upon and learn from my experiences. It is a quiet and thoughtful process of working with my hands, mixing colours, and painting or printing. These actions are what allow me to move through the difficult and joyful things in my life.

A little over a year ago, my mum was diagnosed with cancer. Between that day and this one, countless complex and multi-layered experiences have taken place. When I look back on that time, the feeling of watching the seasons pass by along the road stays with me. I spent countless hours, feeling everything so intensely, and travelling back and forth between our cities of Ottawa and Montreal, Canada.

Since then, my feet have carried me steadily back to the studio and to making. As I navigate this time of grief and loss, I find myself creating a series based on the photos, sketches, notes, and memories of the drive between our two cities.

“Roadside Fog”, Between Cities series. Hand-made screenprint on paper.
 

When I think back to her diagnosis, I see the subdued browns, greys, and muted purples of the November landscape. I had never fully realized their beauty before. There is a phrase here, in Quebec, that is used to describe this season, “sous la grisaille” which means “under the greyness”. Somehow this makes it a beautiful season in itself. Overcast days cast a soft light and bring out muted palettes of mauves, browns, rust reds...

This is the colour palette that marked the beginning of many trips back and forth between the city where I live now and the city in which I grew up. I remember groupings of hazy trees in a wealth of muted earth tones. Forests without leaves. I close my eyes and see corkscrew shrubbery, roadside grasses in yellow ochre, and the surprise sprinkle of a bright red berry.

This project has been for me a healing journey of reflection and of working with my hands. As I create each landscape, I feel a little more strength. It is almost as though each piece forms a gentle stitch, repairing a wound.

“Winter Grasses”, Between Cities series. Hand-made screenprint on paper.
 

When I think of hospice visits, I think, too, of blue shadows on dazzling sunlit snow-covered farm fields. I remember icy boughs bending beneath their weight. Sparkling fields, crisp, clean lines. Evergreens topped with mounds of snow. A hushed silence and a sense of uncertainty. Would it be days? Weeks?

I have wondered at the marvel that is memory. At how clear certain snippets can be, and how hazy others. The specifics can become mixed or unclear. What we are left with is a sense of place, of colour, of light, and a few highly-rendered details.

I have thought much about the forward movement of life. The forward movement is, and was, almost visible in its relentless march – at times slow, and at times slipping too fast.

“Flooded Gardens”, Between Cities series. Hand-made screenprint on paper.
 

It seemed unstoppable as we moved into the summer of last birthdays. The verdant grasses and trees after summer rains. Bands of highways criss-crossing a sea of green. I think of rainy hydro corridors and of trees in the wind – their leaves turning up to reveal pale undersides. The stormy rain-saturated clouds of late summer. A red canoe. Overflowing gardens.

“Green Highways”, Between Cities series. Hand-made screenprint on paper.
 

And, finally, we come to the quiet afterward. With this, came fall leaves crunching underfoot and blowing onto roadways. The garden tidied and tucked in for the season. Empty nests in treetops, chimneys dotting rooflines, the blur of passing highway barriers. I think of hard-specked rain drops blown in gusts of wind, and of softer rainy-day fog. I feel the cooler winds on my face and hands. Warm sweaters. Yellowed grasses, and a lone tree standing amid harvested and flattened fields. The landscape readying itself for winter.

I was left with a sadness, uncertainties… and the memory of a year of back-and-forths between two cities.

“Dusk farm”, Between Cities series. Hand-made screenprint on paper.
 

Since then, there have been many days passed quietly in the studio – mixing the colour palettes of my memories. I have come to realize the many delicate nuances contained in the colour gradations of the natural landscape which require great care to capture.

This series, as with much of my work, is not about landmarks or glamourous subjects. Instead, it ponders small scenes that caught my eye and stayed in my memory. Small moments like these seem to be the very essence of living, for me, and they are deeply meaningful. When I think back to a place or an experience, I most often find that what I’ve been left with is a series of snippets: the dazzling light of summer, the smell of the earth right before it rains, the feel of textured concrete beneath my palms.... These are the things that bring back a particular moment in time for me and, in turn, the larger experiences and stories that took place around it.

As wet, bare branches reach into grey spring skies, I can feel a breath of air. The beginnings of coming through the other side of something. As I look toward the future, there is a quiet sense of possibility, and of hope for what lies ahead.

Visit Michelle's website, or follow her on Instagram. All artwork by Michelle Darwin - prints available here.