Before We Even Knew the Language of Light
There are certain summers that quietly become part of our collective memory, and this already feels like one of them. Weeks of exceptional heat have changed the landscape before our eyes. Lawns that would normally be green have faded to gold, gardens are showing the strain of prolonged dry weather and conversations that once began with "How are you?" now often begin with "Have you had any rain?" Across the world, headlines have been filled with heatwaves, wildfires and record temperatures, reminding us that the relationship between people and the natural world has perhaps never felt more immediate.
The Shape of Things
When Plants Became Clues: Exploring the Doctrine of Signatures in a Modern World…..
The May Garden Note
I think many people have forgotten what it feels like to be truly alone with their own thoughts.
October Notes: “Grounding, Gathering and Growing as a Herbalist”
October in England always feels like a quiet exhale. The light softens, the mornings are misted, and the hedgerows glow with berries. Autumn began here on the 23rd of September, but in October we really feel it settle — the damp scent of earth, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and that ancient tug to slow down.
🌿 September Garden Notes: Falling in Love With Ourselves
As the wheel of the year turns once more, September arrives with a different kind of light — softer, lower, more golden. The days feel both full and fleeting, carrying the weight of harvest and the whisper of change. This journal continues the journey we began in July and August, tracing the lessons the garden and the seasons offer us, and how they mirror our own inner landscapes.