A Cake to Eat by the Fireside

a delicious slice of cakeOne of the many things I love about autumn is the return of cake. Long, hot summer days don’t really lend themselves to an afternoon in the kitchen, beating cake mix and icing buns. Sweet treats tend to be fruit, ice cream or perhaps and Eton Mess or Pavlova for lucky visitors. Autumn is the perfect excuse to rediscover cake. As the afternoons get darker, I find myself heading indoors, lighting candles, cosying up by the fire and leafing through recipe books. I’m not a huge fan of chocolate cake, although you’ll find a couple in my list of favourites here. My current favourites are dark, sticky, heavily spiced and flavoured with ginger, cardamon and honey. Jamie Oliver has a delicious orange and polenta cake in his new book, and I’m waiting for the blood oranges to appear so I can test it out.

Last week, Mr T and I had a small party to celebrate our birthdays. The perfect excuse to try a new recipe on a group of hungry friends. It was a cool, clear night and Mr T lit a fire, I decorated the garden with candles and outdoor lights. This year I baked a  sticky gingerbread with a sharp lemon icing from Miranda Gore Browne’s book “Bake Me a Cake As Fast As You Can”. It struck just the right balance between sickly sweet and a hit of sharp citrus.  In previous years I’ve turned to Nigella for my winter bakes, “How to Be a Domestic Goddess” is well thumbed –  covered in splashes of cake mix and icing – always a sign of a much loved book. I like “last minute” cakes,  the ones that don’t need butter brought to room temperature, so Miranda’s gingerbread is perfect. It’s made using the melting method, so treacle, syrup, butter and sugar are warmed in a pan and added to the flour and spices. It keeps well, lasting several days in an airtight tin.

Of course, cake is an indulgence, a treat to be savoured in small slices with a steaming mug of tea or coffee. It may not be fashionable to celebrate the alchemy of butter, sugar and eggs, but I sit firmly in the “everything in moderation” camp.  (Full disclosure: that rule doesn’t always apply here, where cake is often eaten in huge doorsteps).  I swapped the self raising flour in the recipe for Spelt and a couple of tea spoons of baking powder, and used slightly less milk for the batter. Real, local butter and organic eggs from a friend are non negotiable baking essentials for me and  please don’t use butter replacements unless you have to, the flavour is never the same.We don’t have cake every day, so when we do I go ” all out”, choosing the best, local ingredients. I light a candle, switch on radio 4 and indulge myself in joy of baking. I even have a favourite apron, it hangs on the back of the kitchen door, and when I tie it tight around my waist I feel terribly professional and in control of my kitchen!

One of my greatest pleasures is being able to offer visitors a slice of something home made. Almost as indulgent, I will happily spend an afternoon perusing old favourite recipe books and websites in search of the perfect weekend bake. It’s an autumn activity I highly recommend, write a list, use post its, bookmark your favourites on Pinterest. Or, like me, you could stick your list on the fridge. A  promise to the family of good things to come and a reminder of items you need to add to the shopping list.

To get you started, here’s a few of my recent favourites, all available online. You can’t beat a real cook book though, so if your shelves are a bit bare, head off to your local library and explore the cookery section. Charity shops are also good places to seek out cook books (especially in January when unwanted gifts find their way onto the shelves). Or host a bake and swap night with friends, where everyone bakes their favourite and brings a copy of the recipe. The best friends bring hand written recipes you can stick into notebooks, which is how I discovered my marmalade cake recipe. For years this was the most viewed page on my blog, the most “pinned” and the one that ranked highest in my “referrers from google”. Who knew marmalade cake could be so popular? One of these days I’ll update the photo, it’s definitely one you should try for yourself. Meanwhile, here are a few of my current favourites:

Nigel Slater’s Hazelnut and Chocolate Cake from Observer Food

Miranda Gore Browne’s Caramel Apple Cake from Sainsburys Magazine

Nigella’s Olive Oil Chocolate Cake available on  her website

Diana Henry’s Lime, Cardamon and Coconut cake from the Telegraph

Photo credit: Norwood Themes on Unsplash

The First Frost

sturdy boots on the first frostYesterday I woke and found I was cold. Properly cold for the first time since March. I looked out of the bedroom window to see grass laced with white icing, a bright blue sky and birds all puffed up and fluffy, perched in almost bare branches.

By the time I dressed and took my coffee outside the grass had become soggy, the nasturtiums were still edged with icy frills, but the frost was over and the promise of winter seemed a long way off.

Autumn is my favourite season, and this gentle nudging towards winter is best of all. I know that not everyone agrees there is beauty in this season. I’m reminded of  a piece I read  by Emma Mitchell in Standard Issue magazine, in which she wrote:

I don’t relish fossicking for my long johns in my knicker drawer, bulk buying ChapStick or feeling icy seepage through a hole in my welly. Winter can jog on.

While I sympathise with the cruelties of harsh winter weather (I suffer from frizzy hair, chapped lips and cold toes), I find myself  looking forward to the cold months. I like to hunker down with wool blankets, hot drinks and heavy, hard backed books. This is a time to re – read old favourites by the fire, light candles and to be honest, I find myself spending more time outdoors than in the height of summer, just so I can appreciate that sensation of slowly warming up and watching my cold breath and my glasses demisting.

In the garden there is plenty to do, so always a reason to be outdoors. Ever the optimist, I plant bulbs for spring. I pick dried  seed heads and cut branches for the house. I much prefer the russet reds and oranges of autumn to the blousy pinks and purples of high summer.  I walk in a circuit, inspecting each flower bed and border. It is the last day of October and  the grass is still growing, but too wet to cut. The roses cling on, passing on the baton to late flowering clematis and winter jasmine (Jasminum sieboldianum). There are still cotoneaster berries, turning deep red and still plump, the fluffy heads of Bill MacKenzie are tangled and silky reminders of a summer filled with bright yellow clematis flowers. I pick up stray branches of silver birch to use as kindling and plan my day.

I begin to feel the damp, cold air. It’s time to head indoors, pour fresh coffee and begin the day’s admin of emails to read, bills to pay, commissions to plan. Books don’t write themselves and food must be bought. I feel the need to bake a cake, a sticky, stodgy gingerbread or fruit cake. The kind of cake you cut in thick slices and eat in front of the fire with scented candles burning. Yes, if you visit me in winter you will be handed cake and a steaming mug of tea almost before you’ve had a chance to unwind your scarf or kick off your shoes.

I  relish “peak autumn”, dried and curling leaves, clear blue skies, low winter sun and an excuse to wrap, snuggle and indulge my maternal instinct to provide warming stews, hearty broths and stodgy puddings.  I welcome the cold, the damp and the dark.  I refuse to be sad that summer is over, or to resent autumn as the wet, soggy poor relation or to resist the dark of winter. I embrace autumn, I welcome winter. I look forward to scented paper Whites in dishes on window ledges.

It feels rebellious to speak of autumn with so much love when others are complaining bitterly about the cold, the damp and the dark. So, feel free to remind me of this post  on  January mornings when my hands are numb from scraping ice  and I complain bitterly about cracked lips, dry hair and damp washing that refuses to dry ….

 

Photos credit: Sturdy Boots on Frost: Llum Isart

 

 

Mornings Like These

The starlings gatherI’m writing this, sitting in the garden with a mug of coffee. I’m watching the starlings feasting on the autumn berries. They haven’t noticed me yet. The sky is vivid blue. The kind of blue you only see in early autumn, when the sun sits low in the sky and the cold seems to sharpen everything. That sky is one of the reasons I love autumn so much.

I haven’t written on here for weeks.  I’ve been feeling “disconnected”, posting photos on Instagram, sharing on twitter and so I can’t think why I haven’t sat here and typed a blog post. Maybe there has just been too much to do. A new book to organise, clearing the greenhouse for autumn, family stuff or maybe just nothing to say. Which is OK. Perhaps the space between posts is evidence of a  where life is lived and experienced without the need to record and to reflect. A companionable silence, like the ones between friends and family, where nothing needs to be said out loud.

But I’m back, feeling the need to share this experience of autumn’s beauty with you all, knowing that you will nod your heads, acknowledging the beauty of autumn won’t last and we must relish the colour and the sunlight  before winter forces us indoors to wrap in layers and long for spring.

teasel seed heads.

Sometimes I think I love seed heads more than the flowers

These autumn mornings, sitting in the garden, watching the birds are my favourites. There is so much colour and abundance, not like the blousy over exuberance of summer. The goldfinches are feasting on thistledown, the stems hardly take their weight and they perform all kinds of acrobatics. Blue tits squabble over the bird feeders, or spend hours in and out of the clematis, picking off grubs and seeds. If I sit here long enough, the robin will start to scold me, he expects me to turn over a piece of rough soil to reveal treasures. Last week I spread fresh compost on the empty veg beds and he spent hours picking out tasty morsels.

cotoneaster berries

These cotoneaster berries, so bright and beautiful and loved by the birds

It feels good to see the starlings back, huge flocks this year. They have almost stripped the rowan, now they are competing with the blackbirds for the deep red cotoneaster berries and the coal black berries of a shrub I have forgotten the name of! I managed to  take a photo of them. They are so easily spooked, flying into the air at the slightest movement, calling to each other, regrouping and then settling again. Their plumage shimmering as it catches the sun. Now, just as I look up from the screen I see a flash of blue. Two jays chase each other into the hedge, I haven’t seen them for months and this tiny glimpse makes my day. I’m never sure why it’s the colourful birds that cause me such excitement.

Soon I must head indoors, pack a bag for a weekend away, attend to emails and finish a long promised letter to a dear friend, but for now I’m going to just sit here, switch off the laptop and enjoy the moment.

 

Elderberry Recipe Ideas

Elder (Sambucus Nigra)

Elderberries

The elderberries are starting to ripen, offering the promise of autumn cordials, jams and chutnies. Many people are aware that an elderberry cordial or syrup can help soothe a cough or cold, but they also have dozens of culinary uses. My favourite crumble is a mixture of apples, elderberries and blackberries all foraged from the garden. You can also use them to make wines and chutney. I also use them in the solar dye posts to make a beautiful pink shade of wool.

You need to strip the berries from the stems first. The easiest way to do this is to run a fork downwards from the stems and let the berries fall into a bowl. Even simpler , freeze them on the stems and you can easily strip them when ready to use them. The berries in my garden ripen in stages (one side of the tree gets more sun than the other), so I freeze them until I’m ready to use them otherwise the birds eat them before I can enjoy them.  The stems are inedible and the berries slightly toxic raw. Please be careful if you’re new to foraging that you identify the tree correctly, at this time of year there are lots of bright black berries in the forest and not all of them are edible. If in doubt leave them on the tree. We’re lucky enough to have large elder trees in the garden, but the edges of the local fields also offer a ready supply. Try not to gather from the roadside because of car fumes and always rinse in water before use.

Elderbierries steeping in a solar dye pot

Elderberries in the dye pot

I’ll share pictures of some of my favourite recipes as I make them. Meanwhile,  if you need inspiration here are links to some of my favourite recipes and uses. There are also lots of great foraging courses at this time of year, so do look out for one local to you.

The Woodland Trust: Elderberry wine

Robin Harford: Elderberry Cordial

Foods of England: Elderberry Chutney

 

 

Pictures of Tiny Things: Oak Galls

Oak Knopper Gall Andricus quercuscalicis

Oak Knopper Gall (Andricus quercuscalicis)

Oak trees are my favourite tree. I love the shape of the leaves and the way the acorns change from shiny green to nut brown. Best of all, I love searching for oak galls, caused by tiny parasitic wasps, these “oak apples” and galls come in various shapes and sizes. If you look closely, you can spot them among the leaves, and occasionally pick them up from the forest floor in autumn. I am fascinated by their shapes and textures.

Oak Marble Gall Andricus kollari

Oak Marble Gall (Andricus kollari) like round hard marbles.

Delamere Forest has some beautiful oak trees, and right now they are a covered in tiny acorns, which seem to swell each day. It won’t be long before the squirrels can be spotted munching away, or more likely burying them in the leaf litter.

Oak Common Spangle Gall Neuroterus quercusbaccarum

Oak Common Spangle Gall (Neuroterus quercusbaccarum)

Oak galls can be used to make ink (I’ll share that process later in the year), but right now, grab a small child or rekindle those memories of school nature walks (a weekly outing in my 1960’s and early 70’s education) and go oak gall spotting.

Oak Artichoke Gall Andricus fecundator

Oak Artichoke Gall (Andricus fecundator)

I photographed these earlier this week in Delamere Forest, Cheshire. I was able to spot several kinds and identified them online from the photos I took. Not like the “old days” when I had to pore over the Spotter’s Guides or go to the library. A good place to start is the Trees for Life website, which has  detailed section on plant galls,  not just oaks. Once you start to slow down and look around you, all kinds of flora and fauna reveal themselves. Every day I spot something new, another small gift for choosing slow!

 

Embrace the Now

ApplesThe seasons are changing, but I’m not ready to let the late summer give way to autumn just yet. In the garden, the pinks, purples and yellows of mid summer are slowly giving way to jewel bright reds and blacks as the trees become laden with berries. There are huge rosehips and the rowan trees are covered with red berries. The apple tree is heavy with fruit, it looks like we’ll get our best crop ever. The hazel trees are full of nuts, which means the squirrels are gathering. But it’s not autumn yet (despite what “Instagram” is saying, the changing colours, bronzing of the leaves, copper tones in the bracken are normal for this time of year). They reveal the promise of autumn’s bounty, and yet we still have summer skies, warm afternoons and plenty of sunshine to enjoy. Late summer offers so much, the opportunity to spend time with friends, and with the kids before they go back to school. Some of my clearest summer memories are of late summer blackberry forays, climbing trees still in full leaf and discovering that elder berries are bitter and best eaten cooked, not straight from the tree!

elderberries.jpg

I think we’re prone to forgetting that late summer offers us so much. I have ripe, red raspberries. The elder berries aren’t ripe yet, but the deep red stems are so beautiful and I love to admire the light as it filters through. In a few weeks the starlings and blackbirds will strip them in a matter of days  if I don’t get there first.

Before we rush headlong into autumn (which, if I’m honest)  is my favourite season), let’s just slow down and admire the now. There’s plenty of time to gather together all those autumn recipes for pickles, gins and cordials. Sit in the garden and enjoy the late afternoon sun if you can. Pick the late summer vegetables and last of the soft fruits. Take a moment to reflect on how beautiful this time of year can be, forget the rainy days that caused a change in summer plans. Go for a walk in the woods, on the beach or your local park. The blue skies are out there if you take the time to look!

20160108_111614

Embrace the prospect of autumn, but don’t forget to enjoy the now. Why not start by making a simple fruit cordial? I shared my recipe for redcurrant cordial way back in 2011 and I’m still using the same recipe today. You can swap the redcurrants for any summer fruit (or even a combination), my favourite this year has been rhubarb and raspberry.  If those rainy days threaten to spoil your outdoor fun, making a batch of cordial is a terrific way to bring some summer into your life – you can even use a bag of frozen berries – call it domestic foraging!

 

 

 

Busy Doing Nothing

Sometimes I wear my “busyness” like a badge of honour. Being “busy” equates with success and achievement. On holiday, I noticed that I was far happier  when I was “not busy”. Those days when I sat by the pool, meandered around the garden or strolled down to a local cafe to mooch and enjoy an espresso with Mr T were some of the loveliest days I’ve had this year. We relished having nothing to do, nowhere to be and no-one to please but ourselves.

I came home with a sketch book full of ideas, swatches for new designs, hundreds of photos taken with my new camera and I refound my creativity. It’s the first holiday in years when I haven’t felt homesick within a few days of arriving. The beautiful gardens surrounding our holiday cottage were so wonderful we didn’t feel the need to stray far from home. We didn’t “tick off” many tourist destinations, we hardly ate out and we spent very little. What did we do? We swam, Mr T cycled. We visited the local towns and markets, bought local cheese, meats and honey (oh yes, and wine of course). We cooked simple meals, we talked, listened to each other and in the interests of full disclosure I should tell you we spent  more afternoons than we should enjoying a “siesta”! We watched TV coverage of the Tour de France (and saw some of it in the flesh), we didn’t feel the need to apologise for wasting our time in such trivial ways.

Since we came home, I’ve tried really hard to spend time doing “nothing”. Every day I have taken an hour out to go for a walk or tend the garden. I’ve been happier, less stressed out by deadlines and negotiating commissions. There have even been days when I’ve pulled the cobwebs off the deck chair and sat in the shade under the hazel trees to read a book.

This time, usually early in the mornings has often been the best part of the day. Disconnected from the internet, phone on silent I have been more aware of nature and more aware of the people who matter. For the past week, each day has begun with a walk in the local forest. I wasn’t aware of the concept of “Forest Bathing” until recently, but the idea that being outdoors is good for mental and physical well being isn’t a surprise to me. Ask any gardener, and they’ll wax lyrical about how much better they feel after an hour of weeding, dead heading or pulling up weeds – even the mundane tasks improve our moods!

The other thing I’ve noticed is this: No-one has noticed I’ve been disconnected! Nobody has noticed that I haven’t been answering emails, posting online, commenting or responding until late in the morning, sometimes not  even in the afternoons. In short, my day has started later and yet I’ve achieved the same, sometimes more in less time and in a better frame of mind.”

Slowly, very slowly I’m losing the need to appear busy to outside observers. I don’t feel the need to justify how I’ve spent my day or have something concrete to show off. Busy doing “nothing” is probably when I’ve been most creative, happy and above all, content.

I just wish I had learned this lesson in my twenties, not my fifties!

 

Sometimes it’s OK to have too much

There are some things you can never have too much of and in a world where I’m trying to live with less, today I’m celebrating abundance. In my world there can never be enough friendship, love or creativity, but I feel oppressed when I’m surrounded by too much unnecessary “stuff”. I try to see having too much as a welcome opportunity to share, celebrate and find joy in excess.

Aren’t these sunflowers beautiful? I took this photo on holiday in France last week. We were driving to the local market when I shouted out to Mr T that he must “stop the car now”. We spent at least ten minutes gazing at their beauty, the field seemed to go on forever and we were mesmerised. They may seem gaudy and excessive to you, but I am transported back to that sunny day every time I looked at that picture.

On holiday, we seemed to have too much of everything. No wifi meant we weren’t distracted by emails, social media or checking our phones for updates there was time to just sit and talk. We rented a cottage from an English lady who was bemused by our lack of intention. Did we not have  a list of places to go and things to see? Did we want her to recommend restaurants and bistros? No, we were content to visit the market, buy bread and cheese for lunch, which we spent watching the Tour de France. We spoke to the locals who pointed us in the direction of tiny coffee shops, we drank espresso and visited places you won’t find in the tourist brochures. We came across the remains of a Roman bath house next to a municipal car park and a beautiful garden tended by a 103 year old French man who insisted we took away garlic and artichokes from his plot. We had lazy breakfasts and we sat in silence watching the sunsets.

We celebrated having too much time, too much sunshine and delicious wine. We enjoyed the company of birds and butterflies and when Mr T went out on his bike I swam in the pool and read books (averaging one a day, sheer luxury). We truly were busy “doing nothing” and it was bliss.

I truly believe that you can never have too much of a good thing. Having too much is the perfect excuse to share and to give. My garden is a perfect example right now. After two weeks of neglect while we were on holiday, there is plenty of everything (especially weeds and long grass, but I’m calling that a wild flower meadow and the bees are happy). Gluts of soft fruit mean visits to the neighbours to offload excess, resulting in conversations, shared coffees and exchanging gooseberries for radishes or carrots. I’m making fruit flavoured gins and vodkas to give away at Christmas and of course I’m freezing, making jam and ensuring there will be good things to eat in winter.

Whatever you have too much of, find a way to share it, rather than discarding or wasting it. Whether it’s money, time or food, small acts of sharing make us feel better. I’m not talking about organised volunteering or philanthropy, just the small acts of kindness that can become part of every day. Buying a couple of extra items in the supermarket and popping them in the Food Bank collection point. Gifting your unwanted books to a community library or even just taking the time to chat to a lonely neighbour instead of dashing inside when you get home from work. An added bonus is that you’ll find this kindness returned in unexpected ways. We have a green house gifted by a neighbour who had become too infirm to enjoy his garden, he was going to sell it, but overheard my husband telling a friend I wanted one but couldn’t afford it. My freezer is full of a friend’s “glut” of raspberries and my wardrobe full of charity donations.

Celebrate excess, seize the opportunities and remember that sometimes it’s OK to feel good about having too much.

This is an extended version of a post that originally appeared on Medium.

What I’m Reading

We’re in full holiday prep mode this week and  I’ve just got back from Woolfest (an annual celebration of wool, natural fibre and British sheep breeds). The house is piled up with samples, swatches and notes for my new book and so I have barely found time to write a blog post!

Instead, here’s a round up of what I’ve been  reading (and watching) this week.

On the blogs, Regula Ysewijn has been articulating the unease lots of us are feeling about the rise of what I call “big organic”, with Amazon’s recent bid to acquire US company Wholefoods, is it time we reconnected with the local? Read Regula’s piece here. I definitely believe life is better when we buy good food, from local people.

While I was at Woolfest, the team behind Murmurations organised an truly inspiring event at Storyhouse in Chester. Thanks to social media, I have managed to follow much of the conversation. Check out their feed on Instagram or twitter for a taste of the inspiring stories. With speakers including Sheila Dillon, Charlie Gladstone and many more. It’s certainly true we get the communities we deserve, so if you want to see real change, you have to contribute!

Slightly different, (but still resonating with my journey to slow) have any of you been watching BBC’s Handmade in Japan series? It’s still available on iplayer, where you can watch this fascinating insight into the traditional Japanese Kimono

On my bedside table you’ll find “The Man Who made Things Out of Trees”. Written by by Robert Penn, this  is a truly fascinating insight into the crafts people who make beautiful things from wood. Definitely worth a read if you appreciate hand made, small scale production.  There’s a review in the Guardian, and if you’re intrigued find it in your local independent book shop or library.

Finally, I’m reading issue 2 of Tortoise Chester. This new independent magazine is a celebration of creativity and “slow” in the broadest sense. I didn’t manage to track down a copy of issue 1 as we were on holiday when it came out and my trawl of Chester’s independent shops failed to turn up a copy (pleased it was so popular, but gutted). So, when I heard issue 2 would be available at Murmurations I managed to persuade a friend to drop a copy through my letterbox on her way home.

For the next two weeks, Mr T and I will be in France. I’m hoping to watch a little bit (a lot) of the Tour de France, explore French markets, boulangerie and wine producers. There will be plenty of lazy mornings, long warm evenings and I hope to come back refreshed and full of enthusiasm for my next book and finally able to share with you some new clients I’m writing for.

Have a sunny July xx

 

 

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast (Got to Make the Moment Last).

20160325_134452OK, so that’s paraphrasing Paul Simon, but I find myself singing this hippy, trippy song on my daily walks. It makes me smile as I wander.

I don’t wear headphones when I walk. I think I would miss the sounds of nature, the blackbird singing her heart out in the trees, the laughter of kids in the forest school, even the whoops from Go Ape when I get closer to Delamere Forest car park.

I know that walking, commuting or doing chores are prime candidates for multitasking. For listening to podcasts, audiobooks or a random playlist. But I just don’t enjoy noise when I walk (or when I write / design / proof read). My brain only seems to be able to do one thing at a time. I can’t read and listen to music; I can’t walk and listen to podcasts. I can breathe fresh air and notice the world around me.

In search of slow, I wander in the woods or step out of the garden gate into the fields. I take time to look around and to listen. I mull over the tasks ahead, I dwell (too much) on yesterday’s failings or problems I can’t solve. I might meet a neighbour, also out walking; often they’ll remove one ear bud and try to hold a conversation whilst their playlist continues. A tinny background noise as we exchange village gossip (garden produce successes, a new neighbour or another house for sale).  I want to shout “Unplug yourself”!

But, shutting ourselves out from the world has become the norm. I am the odd one out on the train because I’m not constantly scrolling through my smart phone or wearing headphones. I used to worry about this. Friends told me I was leaving myself exposed, that random strangers would “bother” me, that I would feel safer and more cocooned if I took refuge in my electronic devices.

I love those random conversations; if I am occasionally “bothered” by the person next to me I move seats. More often I discover fascinating stories, a man fresh out of prison on his way to visit the son he hasn’t seen in 15 years; the grandmother off to meet her first grandchild (yes, lots of photos, plenty of proud smiles); the teenager visiting a favoured university for an open day who has never been on a train (“Mum drives us everywhere”). We once took a train trip around Europe; we met friendly, interesting people on our travels. In cafes they would recommend their favourite flavour of ice cream or tell us where to eat dinner (In Italy a waiter at our hotel told us to eat at his brother’s restaurant “I grow the wine he sells, it’s my hobby”. It was the most delicious Montepulciano I’ve ever tasted).

On my walks I learn to recognise the call of birds, to hear the wind as it rushes through leaves in autumn, I hear the crunchy frost under my feet in winter. These are my mindful moments. I don’t need a 10 minute podcast to show me how to slow down, empty my mind and let go of those anxieties that cloud my judgement, The sights and sounds of nature are all I need.

Do one thing at a time, do it well. It sounds fine in theory, but it’s so tempting to rush through the “to do” list, to move on to the next chore. My working life is governed by deadlines, sometimes I need to work late, long hours or weekends. It’s not healthy and not always productive, but necessary. Finding ways to slow down, to relish the small moments of joy keeps me balanced. If your balance is an audio book on the daily commute, then that’s fine. I’m not suggesting everyone should unplug all of the time. Maybe some of the time? Use your time in ways that are productive and satisfying, ask yourself what strategies work for you. Find your own slow.

You and me, we’re different people. There’s no right, no wrong journey the slow life. Just a gradual shift to happiness and contended living.

I tread my own path. And I’m feelin’ groovy!

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  • The sky is full of starlings today. Hungry blackbirds this morning!
#badbirdwatcher #girlgardener #gardenbirds #gardenorganic #twitcher #blackbird #nothingisordinary #naturelovers Classroom window view. I spent today at the Boat Museum, Ellesmere Port.  learning to use my digital camera - thanks Eve & Carol from @going_digital for getting me off auto!
#goingdigital #allthegearnoidea #ihavethisthingwithwindows #ellesmereport #slowliving Remembering our family outing to Beeston Castle last week and how it only seems like yesterday that  my heart would beat faster when my little girl (now in her 20's) would run full pelt over that bridge & down into the woods! Just dropped ff some advent garlands for @ditzyrosemakes , swipe for more examples of new stock. For crocheters, I'll be sharing the patterns on www,grannycoolcrochet.com over the next few weeks.
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#lovecrochet #crochetersofinstagram #makingchristmas  #amakerschristmas #haaktechniekenbijbel #amigurumi #adventcalendars Today's walk was mostly sheltering under the trees and dodging raindrops! I know the tv adverts are hurtling towards a Christmas shopping extraveganza, but  for me, this month is about admiring the colours, kicking up leaves & marvelling at the beauty of nature.
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