‘Gatherers’ is a handmade photographic and recipe book which celebrates and shares the stories of the modern hunter-gatherer. Photographed in Cornwall, it captures different subjects throughout the diverse ecosystems the county has to offer, using a combination of film photography, typewritten and handwritten text.

As a result of the fast growth of our society around material growth, we can too easily become detached from our connection to the resources we consume in our day by day. Even while living in the big city and being distracted by the hectic pace of the metropolis, this book leads us back to those playful moments of outdoor exploration and connection with nature we lived throughout our childhood. 

In addition to re-connecting us with the natural world by engaging with the gatherers, it also emphasises the importance of sustainability and challenges what it means to be sustainable. For the gatherers in the book, to be sustainable is to be aware of how the natural resources we use have been extracted and where they come from. For most of us, this knowledge is limited by what we are told on a label, even in local produce. Instead, the gatherers in the book show how the concept of sustainability goes beyond a piece of paper, by making an effort to knowingly search and forage these resources for themselves. Always being conscious of how much and how to extract them without breaking the fragile balance of their local environment.

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Jaime Molina is a Colombian photographer based in the UK. Find out more about his book and how to get your copy here, where he is currently selling through a Kickstarter campaign that ends December 9th. You can also follow him on Instagram and Twitter.

As we dive into the final months of this year, many of your thoughts will be turning to a new year, resolutions, and a new beginning. The New Year is a well-known time for us to plan a fresh start, but is it the most logical? Perhaps not, when we think to the seasons.

With this in mind, spring is the season that becomes our obvious choice for this fresh start, being so full of new life and signifying the re-awakening of nature from its wintry slumber. In the past I have always used this time to make my fresh start, and intentions for the year.

However, this year has been different. The last ten months flew by in a whirlwind with the completion of my degree and my clothing line beginning to take shape. I feel that, quite without realising it, I’ve stumbled past spring, summer and autumn without truly taking a moment to think about whether the path I’m running along is the right one.

Now, winter is beckoning to me and I look to it with delight. It is not demanding the big changes and to-do lists that a conventional fresh start may require, it simply suggests I stop, and take note. This is the season in which nature pauses, so shouldn’t we too? It does not rush to be something new and exhilarating after the boldness of autumn’s colours. Our grey skies are peaceful, the sun hanging low, and commanding no hurry within your day.

It is with this in mind, and a constant reminder through my window, that I begin anew as winter draws near. Questions I’ve been asking myself will now be answered, however long it takes, and my intentions for the coming year refreshed.

This is the season to think, to read, to write, and to slowly implement those little changes that will bring about your goals. But there is no hurry, no deadline. So pause, and breathe, feel the crispness of the air on your skin, and make that your fresh start this season.

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Jessica Townsend creates slow and sustainable fashion at House of Flint. Follow her behind-the-scenes on Instagram here.

‘The stillness of the moon belies the wind-singing branches and clouds flashing by.  ‘Tis nearly 3am, but there’s little sleep to be had as the wind dances through trees still heavy with leaf while their branches rattle across rooftops and rain thunders down, lashing at the window.  The first of the autumn storms breaks the season into a rapid departure from summer.’

When Suzanna Crampton returned to the farm in Kilkenny which had been in her family for generations, she set about making her own mark on it whilst cherishing the farming ways of the past.  Determined to work with nature and not against it, she began by introducing a flock of Zwartbles sheep alongside alpacas, horses, ‘egg makers’ and dogs, until a rather special cat strolled into her life one day, 11 years ago.  Who would have thought when Suzanna took up a suggestion to go and look at a cat in an exotic novelty toilet-seat shop that she’d end up lending a paw to write a delightful and heartwarming memoir on its behalf?  However, this is just how it happened and how a fine looking feline in need of a home became Bodacious the Shepherd Cat.

From the very beginning, we hear how Bodacious established himself as the boss of the farm,  and how he has come to be Suzanne’s right hand ‘man’ on the farm.  As Suzanne began telling stories of her shepherding companion on her blog and Twitter account, Bodacious’ following grew.  However, I’m not sure that she ever imagined that Bodacious would end up with his own YouTube channel with over 500k views let alone his own book.  Such is his charm.  He’s even graced the cover of The Lady.

This is a story of seasons and the little moments capturing the highs and lows of farming life in rural Ireland.  The narrator is an avid observer, recounting his experiences and adventures of flocking his herd with a serious injection of humour as he chronicles a year in his life as a shepherd. 

You may think it rather odd to have a cat as narrator of country life but believe me, Bodacious is no ordinary cat.  His prose is lyrical and witty, anecdotal and charming – in fact, he steals the heart from the first page with his sheer pluckiness.  Tales of farming life are interspersed with beautiful descriptions of the landscape within which the farm sits and as one season flows into another, we journey with Bodacious and his Shepherd as they cope with inclement weather, trials and triumphs on the farm, the passage of time on the landscape and the patter of tiny feet at lambing time. 

‘All is quiet, only the rustle of straw as the lambing ewe circles and paws the ground in anticipation of her first lamb.  Both Overmitt and I purr in the comfort of companionable company.  The rest of the flock are all cosy in straw sleeping or methodically quietly chewing their cuds.  Time continues gently to weave its way through these calm moments of reflection.  It helps to strengthen a pattern woven into the fabric that is our life; it enables us to absorb frenetic events that occur throughout one’s lifetime.’

Although Bodacious is well and truly the storyteller of the book, never far behind are little asides about his dog squad friends Pepper, Bear and the Big Fellow as well as cat shepherd apprentice, Ovenmitt.  For those who love a light-hearted countryside yarn, Bodacious The Shepherd Cat makes the perfect read.  It’s the sort of cosy fireside reading that we all need in our lives this time of year.

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‘Bodacious The Shepherd Cat’ is published by Harper Collins.  To read more about Bodacious and his antics, visit his website or follow him on Twitter.

I fill the coffee pot each day, staring outside while it bubbles and steams on the stove. The garden is overgrown, life pushing its way through mesh and bark and turf. Moss holds the lawn together and prickly grasses, long and wispy stand tall leaning only in the rain. Upturned pots and an abandoned hanging basket are notes, a memory of time passing. Another year of plans put aside as life takes over. A sudden flurry reminds me that the garden is not only for me.

Today is harvest lunch, a host of winged visitors gleaming under autumn sun gathering to take their pick. Two rowan trees lean, naked now but for soft, overripe berries which drop with the faintest breath of wind. Tiny flashes of yellow dart through the long grass, blue tits searching for the ruby morsels. A tall, dark ivy strangles one of the rowans, reaching high above its branches, it’s thick foliage the perfect spot for a blackbird family to wait its turn. Here they nested in summer, losing little ones to predators but still they reap the benefits of the ivy’s grip. High up, two crows sit watch, holding court and flapping their wings once in a while to remind everyone of their presence. A flash of red against cornflower blue sky is a bullfinch, now two, dipping in and out swiftly to grab berries from under the nose of a plump thrush. Then a swoop of starlings, young, boisterous, sends everyone into the air. Branches sway and more berries drop. In a moment, only the crows remain, steadfast. Lunch is over for today.

Yesterday, under dull skies, the garden was bleak, a burden, another missed opportunity. Today, it is a garden of Eden, a safe place where all comers take their turn. There is plenty to go around. So I’ll leave the lawnmower in the outhouse, put away my gardening gloves. For a while at least. Until the feast is over and each feathered creature has had their fill.

On the journal today, we talk to Kate a ceramic artist. Watch our for her increbible conker masterpieces - a perfect seasonal orement.

CC: Tell us about Kate Luck Ceramics and the journey you took to starting your own business?

K: I studied Ceramic Design at Central St Martins and decided to specialise in mould making and slip casting. I graduated without a product I wanted to sell but certain that I was made to make. Graduating in 2009, I walked straight in to a recession. The arts had been severely cut back and there were no jobs.

I went on to do an amazing apprenticeship with a master mould maker. After my year as an apprentice and a further two years working as an assistant to a couple of ceramicists, I learned of an incubator ceramics studio in North London, near where I lived. With no plan I joined the studio in September 2011, within three years I became the studio manager for twenty five ceramicists.

I started up a Facebook page and blog advertising my mould making and batch production casting service and the commissions came rolling in. For six years I worked on a wide variety of amazing commissions from replicas for Hampton Court Palace to chandeliers and sculptures.

After getting married and moving to rural Bedfordshire, I knew that the time was right to leave production work behind and start making my own work. I have been working on my own collection of porcelain wall sculptures for the last year. My seasonal designs seek to capture childhood memories and family stories in nature, gently reminding us to celebrate the simple pleasures in life.

CC: I know your work is inspired by family stories, magic and nature. Can you tell us why nature is so important to you, and how it influences the way you live and work?

K:My maternal family comes from Anglesey, a small island off the north coast of Wales. Most of our school holidays would involve a trip to Anglesey. Our holidays there were centred on time outdoors no matter what the weather, whether that was beachcombing and skimming stones or climbing trees in woodland covered in lush wild garlic.

En route to Anglesey we would drive through Snowdonia National Park and I grew up in awe of those mountains. Even now every drive through the mountains replenishes my soul. There is something special about the magnitude of nature that heals, grounds and balances me. I turn to nature to remind me that I am just passing through and unlike the mountains I’m not permanent. Nature has a way of giving me perspective.

In 2012 I lost my paternal Grandmother and father to cancer in one week. When it was close to the end, the simple little pleasures we could find from each day became very important. I would bring my father blackberries picked from the garden and he would savour each one. One of my last memories is wheeling my father outside to breathe in the smell of summer rain on hot earth.

The power of these little simple pleasures has stayed with me ever since. When the world seems tough and problems seem to mount up around me, nature reminds me to take time to reflect and refocus on what it is that I truly need. There’s a quote that says it is impossible to walk in the woods and be in a bad mood at the same time, I find this to be true. Nature is my councilor.

CC:I’d love to know what has been the biggest challenge, and the best surprise in running your own business?

K:In the last year the biggest challenge has been switching from a service-based business to a product-based business. I’m still learning and navigating how to approach and gain new stockists and how to sell my work online.

I find that running a creative business is somewhat of an organic process; things do take time and evolve naturally. Despite the new challenges I am facing, it was certainly the right decision for my creativity and I am enjoying the transition.

I think the biggest surprise is probably how much resilience running your own business requires. You need to have so much inner strength to pursue your dreams, pushing onwards even when it seems impossible just because you know that is the route to your true happiness.

CC:Can you tell us about your home, your workspace, and what a typical day for you looks like?

K: I moved to Bedfordshire almost a year ago and it was one of the best decisions my husband and I have ever made. We love the country life and it’s been a real joy discovering our local area over the seasons. I’m very lucky that I have a studio in my garden, but that doesn’t mean I don’t walk to work!

A typical day starts with taking my fox red Labrador Rupert for a good walk over the fields and around the lakes near us. I find it’s a great way to set me up for the day, plan what I need to achieve as well as being a great source of inspiration. I usually always snap a picture of something that catches my eye. Once home it’s kettle on and time to head to the studio to start the working day.

In the studio it’s usually classical music on the radio that fuels my mornings as I get all my emails and social media done and then I flip to an audio book ready to crack on with making undisturbed for the rest of the day. Making days have their own natural rhythm and pattern that add up resulting in a finished piece, it’s a very fluid process of both planning and responding to what needs to be done.

The vast majority of success when working with clay, unlike many other organic materials, is timing. Certain things must be done at certain times, too wet and the shape could collapse, too dry and it can crack. It’s the most instinctual part of my job, working according to what feels right.

CC:When you aren’t working on your business, how do you enjoy spending your time?

K: Having adventures with my husband and our dog Rupert takes up a lot of my free time and takes us to some fantastic places. Some of the best times we share as a little family are weekend walks, no phones, just holding hands walking the dog, talking about everything and nothing, letting the surroundings wash over us. After a really muddy or crisply cold Autumn walk there’s nothing I like more than an afternoon snuggled up on the sofa watching films with a roaring fire going.  

Together, my husband and I are avid travellers and really enjoy exploring new and obscure places whenever we can. Instead of giving each other gifts we usually take each other away, as we feel memoires last longer than possessions. We usually choose somewhere near mountains where we can just hike and explore, the wonder of our beautiful planet never ceases to amaze me.

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

In a world connected by social media, the pursuit of perfection, branding and creating an image, comparison is a toxic inevitability.  So my advice would be to believe in the validity of your dreams. Your dream is valid because of you, and that validity is not based on or determined by how many likes or shares you get.

Something I do to combat the toxic effects of comparing myself to others is to write down goals I want to achieve in my business at the start of each year. It helps give a focus to your work and a sense of achievement when you have fulfilled them.

The other exercise that I think is especially important is to define what success looks like for you, success doesn’t always need a financial focus. So define your success and go for it, reach for it and believe in it.

You can find Kate over on Instagram and Facebook

Since 2016, I’ve been (as far as I know) the only specialist grower and producer of handmade medlar preserves in the UK. I’m reviving this ancient and forgotten fruit from our home in Eastgate, Norfolk. My husband David and I have planted a culinary and horticultural orchard of 110 Mespilus germanica trees on our six-acre plot. 

When we bought our Eastgate home in 2012, we became custodians of a beautiful six-acre plot with a mix of formal garden and several paddocks. We were excited. I was a little daunted, having previously been responsible for a garden measured out in feet and inches. We’d brought a medlar tree in a very large pot with us. It had been a wedding present in 2010, an eventual addition to the future garden we were going to make together.

This is also a story about Norfolk & Norwich University Hospital’s bowel cancer screening programme for 55 year olds. My diagnosis in early 2015 revealed a stage 1 cancer. It was quickly and successfully treated. The therapeutic power of our land and my kitchen - digging, planting, growing and becoming a small-scale maker - were essential to my emotional recovery. Norfolk had saved my life. I wanted to show my deep appreciation, and so the orchard and the business were born. By January 2017 we had completed the final phase of planting our  medlar orchard.  Only then did we discover that a hundred years ago this place was a fruit farm with apples and pears underplanted with blackcurrants. We have a dozen of the original Bramleys and we’ve had a bumper 2018 harvest.

We’ve planted a mix of very young bare root and slightly older container grown medlar trees. 101 of these are Nottinghams, the best variety for flavour and size. A six-foot bareroot seedling Mespilus germanica Nottingham on quince ‘A’ rootstock will fruit in its third year. Planted in a spacious hole, with bone meal, plenty of leaf mould, a stout stake and a bucket of water topped off with a mulch mat, all 110 trees will be productive this year. Medlars are relatively disease free, prefer a slightly acid soil with good drainage in a sunny spot. They love a really cold winter and cope well with long hot summers. Their yellow centred single white blossoms appear in late May and are magnets for honey bees. They are self-fertile and will fruit successfully as singletons.

There’s little evidence and a lot of uncertainty surrounding the origins of the medlar. The trees may have grown first on the western shores of the Caspian around 1000 C.E., spreading from Greece via the Roman Empire throughout Northern Europe. Stones were found in burial sites in France and Switzerland and ancient leaf impressions surfaced at Burgtonna in Germany. Carl Linnaeus’ book Species plantarum (1753) provides us with the modern binomial name for the medlar, Mespilus germanica, apparently in the belief that it was native to Germany. Maybe an apt name after all.    

It’s hard to say when medlars first arrived here. The Roman town at Silchester, Hampshire revealed medlar stones during an archaeological dig in 1903/4. These remain the only recorded finds of medlars from Roman Britain, and the fruit may have been an exotic import.  Not until the 13th Century are there clear documentary records of medlar cultivation in England: Westminster Abbey’s gardens were run by Monk Gardeners, responsible for supplying the Abbey with produce which included medlars, cherries, plums, pears and nuts.        

We know that Henry VIII helped make medlars fashionable among the nobility. Medlar, pear, damson, cherry and apple trees were planted at Hampton Court. In October 1532, Henry took Anne Boleyn to France, where he met King Francis I. Among the sumptuous gifts of swans, geese, capons, ducks and larks were large quantities of medlars.

Sir Robert Cecil, 1st Earl of Salisbury, created a garden at Hatfield House early in the 17th Century. He had already obtained medlar, quince, walnut and cherry trees from a Low Countries grower named Henrich Marchfeld. He sent his gardener, John Tradescant, back to buy more stock, including “two great medlar trees” for 4s 0d and “two great medlar trees of naples” for 5s 0d.

The medlar was widely grown and eaten in 19th century Britain. Its ubiquity and popularity declined steeply after WW1, a time of changing habits and tastes. It’s possible that preparing medlars to eat just took too long.

The fruit is usually ready to harvest in late October or early November after night time temperatures have dipped. They’re inedible as a fresh fruit or cooked until they’ve been bletted (ripened) on trays in controlled, cool conditions. Off the tree, while ripe to pick, they are hard and astringent.

Bletting liberates the fruit’s fragrance and flavour; the medlar becomes soft and juicy. It may take weeks - medlars won’t be rushed – but in time they’re ready to make into delicious preserves. I work with small batches of medlars, British sugar and whole lemon. I don’t use gelling agent or liquid pectin; all my preserves are suitable for vegans and vegetarians. They are gluten free.

At the time of writing, it’s harvest. I’m connected to a lovely network of medlar trees around North Norfolk. The fruit is offered on the basis that it otherwise goes to waste, many gardeners loving the ornamental blossom and the autumn colour of their own medlar tree. Eastgate Larder donates to their chosen charity, recognising the value to me of this overlooked and forgotten fruit. I blend my Eastgate fruit into every batch I make.

The clear amber medlar jelly is delicious with cheese, meat, game and charcuterie. Medlar fruit cheese, a set purée of the pulp, is simmered gently for several hours and pairs well with blue and hard cheeses. My newest product is a spicy medlar chutney, delicious with a curry or in a cheese sandwich. Bon appetit!

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Jane Steward is a specialist grower and producer of medlar preserves. Find her at Eastgate Larder, or on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Living slowly can be difficult when you’re also running a business, making time for family and trying to remember you do actually have friends and they’d like to see your face occasionally. I try to achieve this lifestyle, nonetheless, by seeking connections to what surrounds me in day-to-day life. To what I eat, what I wear, who I speak to. It is these connections that help us feel life isn’t just passing us by in a blur of rushed meals and soon-forgotten meetings.

I’ll admit it is easy to lose sight of these things when I’m lost under a sea a fabric with just over five minutes to turn it into something resembling the garment in my head. This is why I find connecting with others on this journey so grounding. Being part of a community with similar aspirations for a slow and seasonal life is a constant and beautiful reminder of what is real and important.

The world of online interaction can have plenty of downsides but the one resounding benefit it brings is the ease with which we can make these connections. Shared thoughts and ideas are just a click away and introductions can be forged with ease. Relationships begin with those you would never be so lucky to meet in other circumstances. If and when the opportunity arises to meet in person, foundations for a meaningful and valuable connection have already been set.

I’ve been so fortunate to attend all the Creative Countryside gatherings and community meet-ups, and each time I leave with fresh inspiration and vitality. This is a community excited by slow and seasonal living, passionate about creativity and eager to share ideas and unearth fresh, unique points of view in return.

I’ve discovered the sense of peace to be found in a mindfulness walk, created delicious herb butter from foraged ingredients, felt myself disappear completely into some other realm in a guided meditation, received some empowering business advice, and even enjoyed a little tree-hugging to boot. Each experience is unique, beautiful and infinitely more so thanks to the kind-hearted folk whom I’ve been so blessed to share them with.

This community is ever growing, not necessarily in size but in value. Every shared thought or moment contributes, and I’m all the more tranquil, creative and contented as a result. Thank you to those who made this happen – thank you to our community.

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Jessica Townsend creates slow and sustainable fashion at House of Flint. Follow her behind-the-scenes on Instagram here.

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The Creative Countryside Community is open for new members until November 15th. More information here.

Today we’re introducing you to Saskia Marjoram, who runs Saskia’s Flower Essences based in Somerset…

Eleanor: I’d love for you to start by telling us more about you and your business, who you are and what it is you do?

Saskia: Who I am feels like it changes on an almost daily basis so I find it hard to answer this one. The easy bit first: my name is Saskia Marjoram and I am one of the founders of a company called Saskia’s Flower Essences. We make flower essences in the same way as the Bach Flower Remedies which, if you’re unaware, are drops that you take under your tongue. They help to shift long held negative patterns and thought processes. These drops work on a vibrational level and contain the energy of the plant rather than its physical properties. Even now, 15 years later, I am completely amazed at how powerful and effective they are. It is as close to natural magic as I’ve gotten so far.

My background is in gardening and floristry. For a long time I was one of the florists for HRH Prince of Wales and I have been gardening professionally for over 30 years now. I find if I don’t have a chance to get my hands in the soil on a regular basis I lose the connection with the earth , which is absolutely vital for my health and well-being.

Eleanor: Can you tell me about where you find your inspiration?

Saskia: My inspiration comes from connecting with plants and the natural world. As a small child walking in the country I was always asking what the plants I saw were called. For me, being able to get deeper and deeper into knowing the plants growing around us and what they have to teach us is an absolute joy and privilege. Sitting with plants, observing them and how they grow and walking amongst them not only brings me inspiration but healing too.

Making flower essences isn’t a complex process but it does require an understanding and connection with plants, as well as a deep respect for them and their wisdom. Being able to collect their energy to bring healing to other people is what keeps me going. When I hear the stories of what our essences have done for people my heart sings and I know that’s what I’m here for.

Eleanor: I am also interested in knowing more about how you view creativity; is it something you can rely on every day, can you work at it, or do you have to wait for it to strike?

Saskia: For me the creative process is being able to open up to the universe and allow the messages to arrive freely. As a florist, especially when creating funeral tributes, I noticed that there was always a point of letting go, an opening up and trusting that divine wisdom flows through you. Although the work I do with essences, and more recently distilling plants to make hydrosols, isn’t considered by many to be a creative process I believe that, if we are open, we are constantly creating our own lives. When I am making up a specific combination for someone, as I do in consultations, I use a pendulum to help me decide which essences someone needs. Opening up to this energy feels very similar to open up to receive creativity.

There are certain flower essences that help with opening to our own creativity. Buttercup and Carrot spring to mind which are both in our Focus, Energise, Create combination which is great to take whenever you feel that your creativity isn’t flowing freely.

Eleanor: Can you tell me why nature and the seasons are important to you, and how they influence the work you do?

Saskia: Ah, that’s a much easier question and yet a very complex one too. I am a human and therefore part of nature and absolutely affected by the seasons as we all are. My connection to both is deep and as essential as breathing itself. Someone once pointed out that all the air we breathe has been exhaled by a plant at some time - I like that thought a lot - and of course without nature my ‘work’ wouldn’t exist. It feels that I am here to connect humans with plants so that we can learn the lessons they have to teach us.

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

Saskia: Do it. Whatever you are drawn to do, whether it means that you will be penniless and living in a shed on top of a hill, as I did for quite a while - do it. Listen to your dreams, remember why you are here and the gifts you have to bring to make this world a richer and more beautiful place and keep on keeping on. And if you get stuck remember that the plants will always help you, especially in the form of essences, to get you through the difficult parts. We are fed and supported on all levels by the plant kingdom so we can be as human as we are able. With all the resources that we are using as a species surely it is imperative that, whenever possible, we live our lives as fully and deeply as we can.

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Saskia’s flower essences and essence sprays are made and bottled in Somerset and are available to buy here. You can also find information about her workshops on flower essences and distilling plants. Give Saskia an email if you wish to be kept informed about her upcoming events.

As the days are getting colder and the nights are getting longer, we feel the urgency to slow down. It is time to withdraw into our cosy lairs and dream about the future. A future which benefits the seasoned environment, as well as satiates our human needs and desires.

Yet, there are questions begging to be asked: "When was the last time you had a screen-free day to spend hours fantasising how to achieve a sustainable future?" and "When was the last time you spent an entire weekend without a device by your side?" Most of us don't even know what that feels like anymore, though it is likely that we grew up without a constant stream of technology, so remembering is only a silent thought away. With digital devices shut off, the quiet that ensues is relaxing, calming, and downright grounding - especially if you have the time and place for a barefoot walk.

The human species has embraced technology with the tightest grip in such a short amount of time, that our brains and eyes are moving faster than we can comprehend. How can we fully absorb the growing flow of information? In favor of being entertained online, we have left behind the abundant wealth of nature, which is quick on the decline due to our habits of over-consumption. However, it is never too late to let go of that embrace, to slowly pull away and admit that perhaps it was not the 'love at first swipe' that we first imagined.

It is wonderful to know, that the best things in life still happen off the screen, just ask any wild child. 

Just the other day, my husband and daughter were playing out in a neighbouring field, throwing a stainless steel cup attached to a flat cotton wick for oil lamps (a homemade toy). Amidst all the fun of tossing high into the strong wind - to watch it fly - a fox appeared close to the hedgerow going about his/her business. It was a magical moment, just the three of them, no screens in sight, no camera to capture the moment. It was a connection with nature that will last a lifetime.

What does designing a sustainable life have to do with a chance-encounter of meeting a red fox? Everything.

See, when we are stuck behind screens (televisions, tablets or the like), we are mere observers in the game of life. It often appears that we are here to be entertained, rather than to be key players in the main event. We often choose what is easy and uncomplicated, preferring not to get our hands dirty. We've become a society of watchers, rather than doers, though we can change that too - if we want - and that is why sustainability starts at home.

It begins with limiting our addiction to technology, learning, once again, how to shut off the noise that clouds our heads with some important and much useless information. It takes gathering the time and courage to get outside, and hike further afield then we are used to exploring. It takes getting outside of our comfort zone, off of the couch and out of our climate-controlled homes.

If there is one single thing that we need to realise quickly about sustainability, it is that we all make an impact - in the right or wrong direction. Let go of your "need" for plastic, and seek out natural, renewable alternatives instead. Go minimalist and pare down your wardrobe, keeping only the essentials. Then practice your handcrafting skills and knit, crochet and sew the next garments that enter your closet. Do a wonderful job and they may just last a lifetime! Lighten your load and practice buying nothing new for an extended period of time - there are so many ways to reduce your impact on this Earth.

Designing a sustainable life is not a trend, it is an important aspect of our modern life - for if we fail to change, nature will no longer be on our side.

And since we are inspired by nature every day, most of you reading this are too, the prospect of losing bits and pieces of our environment is a thought too great to bear. We'd rather live simply, so that all bears (white, black, tall and small) can roam the forests freely, just as nature intended.

Do your dreams of a sustainable life keep nature in mind?

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Today Callum Saunders tells us a little about ‘his’ countryside, and what it means to him.

Where in the world is ‘your’ countryside?

Callum: A small pocket of the South Downs in and around Lewes, East Sussex.  It’s where I grew up, and despite a move up north, it’s where I continually gravitate to: it’s ‘home’ for me, and always will be.  I’ve walked these soft chalky paths, man and boy.  There’s something that connects me to this place, and I can’t imagine being without these soft curves of rolling Downland, with skylarks singing overhead.  That said, I have also been in the Peak District for seven years now, and the High Peak is becoming something of a second home to me, in and around where I live in Glossop.

Earliest countryside memory?

Callum: Probably with one of my sisters, up on the Downs!  We have a very old photo of us both standing amongst thousands upon thousands of red poppies and I vividly remember that scene.  These days, there are hardly any poppies upon the Downs where I grew up, but I vividly remember that scene and standing amongst them with my sister.

Why do you love the countryside?

Callum: I think there are a number of reasons.  I genuinely think that it’s in my genes, and that love of nature has been passed down.  I’m the paternal grandson of a Sussex sheep farmer.  For me it’s also an escape from the weekly grind of work and commuting; a life ‘contained’ within trains, trams and offices.  That ability to access the outdoors in the evening and the weekend is important to me – not an escape ‘from’ the job, but an escape back ‘to’ what is real and important in life.

You have 24 hours, anywhere: describe your ideal day in the countryside.

Callum: Definitely back home in Sussex.  Probably an early start and a morning walk up to Mount Caburn, between Lewes and Glynde.  The summit is the remains of an iron age hill fort, and it has over 140 burial pits.  It’s a place that feels historic, as well as providing wonderful vistas of the Ouse Valley all around it.  Then onto Barcombe, a village outside of Lewes, and a day boating on the river Ouse, from the marvellous Anchor Inn pub.  After that, probably a walk along the Ouse to Hamsey Church and back, before enjoying a few pints of Harvey’s Sussex Best at the John Harvey Tavern in Lewes.

Favourite season and why? 

Callum: It always used to be autumn – I adore the cold, crisp beauty of leaves and trees in decline.  But more recently it has become spring, as I have become more of a gardener.  The long-awaited reawakening of life is welcomed, and I think May is my favourite month: you have lots of plants and flowers coming to life in the garden, along with some warmer weather, and yet you still have the promise of months of light, life and laughter ahead of you.

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Callum is a nature writer, poet and photographer who lives in the Peak District, when not back home in Sussex tramping his beloved South Downs.  His day job as a strategic planner in a marketing agency fuels the passion for the simplicity of life outdoors with his young family at the weekend.  Callum’s work explores the connections between the landscape of the earth, as well as of the soul.

Find him writing at A Seasoned Soul, or on Twitter and Instagram.

On the journal today is Katrina Rodabaugh, a slow fashion and sustainability warrior. We talk to her about her latest book Mending Matters: Stitch, Patch, and Repair Your Favorite Denim & More. She kindly sent us a copy for a review which we’ll share with you soon!

CC: Tell us about Mending Matters and the journey you took to writing your own book?

K: Mending Matters was the result of launching a personal art project, Make Thrift Mend, in August 2013. I launched the project just months after the Rana Plaza garment factory collapse in Dhaka Bangladesh in April 2013 killing over 1,100 people. After the collapse I decided I wouldn’t buy new clothing for one year. Instead I’d focus on making simple garments by hand, supporting thrift stores and secondhand shops, and mending what I already owned.

Soon after mending my clothing a friend asked me to teach my first mending workshop at a fabric store where she worked. It sold out quickly, much to my surprise. I offered a second workshop and that sold out quickly too. That’s when I realized people were eager to learn repair work. That was five years ago and I’ve been focusing on sustainable fashion ever since. Mending Matters is the culmination of teaching mending to thousands of students and wanting to have a way to teach people all over the world. The book allows folks to learn my techniques from their homes instead of traveling to my workshops.

CC: I know you’re inspired by slow fashion. Can you tell us why this is so important to you, and how it influences the way you live and work?

K: Sustainability has always been central to my values. I was an Environmental Studies major in college and then went straight to work for nonprofit arts organizations like galleries, theaters, and art centers. Then I went to graduate school for creative writing and focused on poetry and book arts. So, I was working in arts offices by day, making fiber installations and poetry by night, and trying to live as sustainable as possible.

When the Rana Plaza factory collapsed I realized I had overlooked fashion in my attempts at sustainable living. I was recycling everything, keeping a compost bin in my urban apartment, and supporting my local organic farms but I was buying clothes from the sales racks of major fashion retailers. So, Slow Fashion really helped to deepen my commitment to sustainable living and also align my fiber arts, writing, and environmental concerns with my closet.

CC: I’d love to know what has been the biggest challenge, and the best surprise in writing your own book?

K: This is my second book so I really feel like I could be much more present and have more realistic expectations with this book. I think the biggest challenge is always editing—how to really focus the book on just one topic when there’s so much I want to share. And the best surprise is always the collaborators. The people that supported this book are truly incredible people. By the time the book publishes it’s not just my book anymore. It’s a book by my editor, agent, photographer, models, graphic designer, publicist, and all the folks at Abrams Books and then it’s the book of the reader too. I like thinking of the book as a community effort—it doesn’t exist in a vacuum but instead it’s a collaborative process that continues all the way to the reader mending her jeans.

CC: Can you tell us about your home, your workspace, and what a typical day looked like for you during the writing process?

K: Well, I’ve had to give up any idea of “typical” in the last few years. My husband and I are both working artists and self-employed so our daily schedules shift all the time. But in October 2015 we moved 3,000 miles from a small apartment in Oakland, CA to the rural area of the Hudson Valley in Upstate NY. We bought a 200-year-old farmhouse and immediately started DIY renovations. Our young sons were then just three-years-old and six-months-old. It was a wild time. In January 2016 I sent the book proposal for Mending Matters to a handful of agents and signed with my amazing agent in March. We signed with my publisher in November 2016 and the book was just officially published on October 16, 2018.

So, for the past three years, parenting two young children, DIY renovating an 1820s homestead, and writing this book while being self-employed was really an act in time management, diligent focus, fierce priorities, and a good dose of humor. I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to do in a given day or even a given month. So, I just had to really focus on the deadlines, prioritize the photo shoots, and trust my incredible team of colleagues at Abrams to carry the book to publication. Which they did so beautifully. It was a great reminder that many brains are better than one.

CC: When you aren’t mending, how do you enjoy spending your time?

K: If I’m not in my studio or at my computer I’m probably working on our farmhouse, barns, gardens, or caring for our sons—oftentimes these things overlap, of course. We’ve really leaned into creating the family homestead we dreamed. So, we’ve added chickens and bees and each summer we expand the garden or further renovate the barns into our studio spaces. There are very blurred lines between my work, my home, and my family life but I do try to leave the work behind sometimes and just go canoeing with the boys, have a bonfire in the backyard and roast marshmallows, or go take a family hike. Leisure time is very scarce as a working mom but I relish in the moments when we can really unwind as a family.

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

K: Go for it! You’ll probably never feel ready. You’ll never know everything you need to know or perfectly calculate all the risks. But trust yourself that you’ll figure it out as you go. I think we confuse recklessness with risk-taking. You can be adventurous and take risks and still be very reasonable and responsible. In some ways, it might actually be more responsible to follow our dreams than let them wither. Especially if they’re persistent.

If there’s something you know in your heart you really want to create, build, or achieve, then let that be your guide. Nurture it. Honor it. Protect it. Work towards it like it truly matters. And then, at some point, lean into the not-knowing and start doing. I always think of it as the balance between my heart and my head. My head leads the way with calculating risk, researching, and devising a plan that seems reasonable. But then, at some point, my heart takes the lead and I move into action and just try to hold on for the journey.

Mending matters will be make lovely and practical sustainable gift don’t you think?

Follow Katirina over on Instagram

Jo Moseley, is a keen advocate of picking up plastic, an inspiring speaker, having fun on her stand up paddleboard, breaking boundaries and creating her own destiny. On the journal today, she shares with us her 2 minute beach cleans - for the good of our future.

“Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed”

Mary Oliver

The October sun beams down from a bright blue sky. I stand on my paddleboard and spot the sheep munching their way to the top of the crag. Dogs scamper along the path as their owners try to keep up. A young woman strolls along chatting and laughing into her phone. She turns her face upwards to soak up the afternoon’s golden rays. I think of Mary Oliver’s words and breathe deeply, joyfully, gratefully, for this opportunity.

Like many women in their 50s, my life is busy. Happily flying solo with my sons and keeping a watching brief on my Dad, time for myself is precious and yet vital. Moments like this, tiny adventures on my paddleboard or running in the hills, bring a joy that lasts for days. I return nourished, my soul topped up with happiness and appreciation, ready to tackle the To Do List.

As I glide along the calm waters, free of distraction and with a beautiful autumnal afternoon to myself, I reflect upon the last few months. What have I learned? What has changed around and within me? What do I want to create more of in 2019?

One thing springs to mind – my 365 Days of Love project. Something so simple that has brought such joy. On a chilly January 1st, huddled next to the fire, I scribbled down my hopes and intentions for the year ahead. Amongst them, to do a 2 minute beach clean or litter pick wherever I am each day. Whether that’s walking along the shoreline, running in the hills or dashing to work in town, a commitment to take 2 minutes of each day to pick up litter and stop it from reaching our oceans.

I’ve always loved being at the coast, spending my childhood summers cartwheeling on the beach, throwing myself into the cold northern waves and collecting sea glass from the beach. Over the years, I noticed that amongst the shells and tiny fragments of pottery and glass washed up on the shore, there was more and more plastic. Bottles, crisp packets, bits of bags, discarded fishing net…. Not huge amounts, but more than should be. I sought out other beach cleaners and joined a wonderful community on social media sharing our finds and learning from each other. Watching Sir David Attenborough’s Blue Planet 2 reinforced my commitment to do my little bit to help against plastic pollution.

Two minutes each day. This is going to be a tiny habit, my way of saying thank you for the joy and sense of peace and possibility the hills and waves give me. I call it 365 Days of Love based on a quote from Mother Teresa. “Not of all of us can do great things. But we can all do small things with great love.” This is my small thing with great love.

And yet, I never imagined that something so simple would make such a difference to my life or create so many happy memories. I think back to an early morning run along the cliffs, hopping across the mud to collect a balloon precariously blowing on the edge.

A Sunday paddleboarding with my son to a secluded beach, watching him proudly carry two large plastic containers back to the board. After a sunrise swim, in awe as the seagulls swooped from above and the world awakened, I picked up a broken bucket and spade from the beach. Walking, chatting in the late afternoon glow through the sand dunes of a chilly Northumbrian beach, laughing at how we can’t pass a piece of rubbish without stopping to pick it up!

This year, I have noticed the seasons change more closely and more intimately than before. I’ve run through freshly lain snow and muddy puddles carrying someone else’s rubbish and been thankful for the opportunity. I’ve plotted where the snowdrops grow and when to keep an eye out for the brief gloriousness of the blossoming peonies. On the longest day in June, I ignored the call of the vacuum cleaner for a scramble up the crag to watch the sun set late in the evening. I’ve explored under the roots and branches that hang above the river and watched the heron watching me as I pull a plastic bottle only visible from a paddleboard. I know the week the house on the corner will burst into a riot of red as the leaves that clothe the Yorkshire stone change colour. I’ve smelled the wild garlic and heard the call of the geese. I may not know the names of all the trees or birds but I feel a sense of guardianship I have not experienced before. This is my home and I want to take care of it. One piece of litter, one plastic bottle at a time.

I know I am not alone. The friendships I have met online and in the real world simply because of those two minutes each day have brought such kindness into my life. So many of us, scattered not just across the UK but across the globe, doing our little bit to make a difference. We are cheerleading and encouraging each other. We are a shoulder to lean on when we feel disheartened. I belong not just to the places I look after but to a community. A family of doers, of carers, of people who don’t just talk about making a difference but who actually go out in all weathers and make good on their promises.

Yesterday, as I walked in the bracing wind, I met a dog walker “Hello!’ she said, “What have you picked up today?”. I giggle to myself. I’m the middle aged mother with a bag of litter and proud of it!

Yes, as I stand on my board and look out at the hills of Yorkshire, I know that what I thought was a 2018 project will become a 2019 one too. The hills and waves give me so much – a place to calm my anxious brain, to unfurl my body and feel the joy of simply moving, a sense of possibility as I untangle the day and the challenges I am facing. Taking two minutes each day to say thank you is a habit I have come to love. In giving back, I have gained so much.

As the afternoon draws to a close I pack up my board and head home. Grateful, put back together, joyfully nourished by the fresh air. A small pile of sweet wrappers, an old milkshake cup and bits of broken tennis balls I’ve picked up from the hedgerow by my side. My 2 minute thank you for a cherished memory

You can follow Jo on Instagram and we urge you to do so!