Keep the Wild in You

on the rocksI had an outdoors childhood. I didn’t think that was unusual, Dad would take us for walks along the banks of the river Severn, we would fish for sticklebacks with our cousins in the holidays, spend hours wandering through fields (in the days when wheat grew taller than me). Summer holidays were spent on the beach, exploring rock pools and building dens. We knew the names of birds and wild flowers because we saw them every year, named them, remembered them. We knew where to find wild raspberries, to avoid the bitter elderberries and in spring there was great delight to be had in picking “sticky willie” and throwing at each other.

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It’s only now that I’m an adult that I realise how lucky we were to have family (and teachers) who knew the value of being outdoors. It constantly surprises me that people will ask “Can you really eat that?”,  or that they are unable to identify garden birds or wild flowers, that they don’t know the thrill of finding a slow worm in the compost heap or the joy of spotting the first butterfly of the year. Maybe, because we walked to school or spent long summer days unsupervised in the countryside around our home a love of nature and an understanding of the seasons was just absorbed by osmosis. I can walk in the woods and name the trees, I know when to look out for the spiky sweet chestnuts (and I know how to roast them and eat them), I look forward to the first flush of nettle tops and the early wild garlic. I didn’t deliberately set out to pass on this knowledge to my daughter, but I think she has inherited at least some of that knowledge and respect for nature. Right now, we have a batch of birch sap wine fermenting in the kitchen, I’m eyeing up the cherry blossom and watching my neighbour’s crab apple tree with plans for jellies and jams. Food for free, foraging, whatever you like to call it, being with and eating wild things is part of who I am. It’s true, the only reason we planted an Elder in our garden was an ambition to make elderberry wine and elderflower champagne.

elderflowers 2016

So, in a long and rambling way, if this was your childhood and you regret that  you’ve now forgotten more than you remember, or you never had the opportunity to discover your “wild side”, then the Wildlife Trust’s “30 Days Wild” is for you. Starting on the 1st June, you can sign up to receive a whole month of simple ways to go wild. You can take part as an individual, a school, or even get together with your colleagues and go a bit wild in the work place. There are plenty of resources and ideas on the Wildlife Trust website. Download a pack and start planning your month of wild. Even if you can only manage a wild weekend or a few minutes there are suggestions for you. I love the idea of sparking “random acts of wildness” and encouraging more of us to step outside, even if it’s only for a few minutes each day. As regular readers know, my moments outside are essential. I always feel happier, calmer and ready to face the day after a wander around the garden or a walk in the woods.

But, 30 Days Wild isn’t just about discovering the outdoors and ticking a box in a spotters guide. It’s about encouraging us all to find time to go wild at any time of the year, not just in June. It’s about finding ways to live healthier, happier lives through being in nature. That might sound a bit “new age”, but everything I read and research tells me that my instinct to throw open the windows, walk barefoot on the grass or just sit on a bench and watch the birds  is good for me. Download the app and wherever you are, you can find something to do, or send off for an activity pack or check out the #30dayswild hashtag on Twitter and Instagram for ideas. I’ll be sharing my wild adventure online too, so join in with me and we can go wild together!

 

The Japanese advocate “Forest bathing”, children are being encouraged to take part in Forest School days, as far back as the 1970’s research proved that  patients in hospital make speedier recovery if they can see the sky and the grass through a window.  Try some of the suggestions and discover the nature in your garden, around your workplace or venture further afield. All the local Wildlife Trusts run activities (many of them free) to help you discover your local area, so if you’re nervous about venturing out alone you’ll be in good hands.

What are you waiting for? stop reading and get outdoors, find the wild in you…

 

The Things We Overlook

dandelion.jpgOn Easter Sunday I spotted the first dandelion flower of the year. We’ve been picking the leaves for salads for a couple of weeks ; along with  sorrel and the early chives they have supplemented the shop bought salad I’ve been buying since we cut the last of our home grown lettuces. Looking at Instagram I often feel that the commonplace and the ordinary are overlooked in favour of more exciting, glamorous gardening achievements. I see photos of gardeners showing off the first blossom from their almond trees or the luscious fruits of lemons in their enormous heated greenhouses, of course I’m a little jealous, if only finances would stretch to a new greenhouse or a larger plant buying budget! My own precious garden moments are more mundane, but they are still thrilling to me. Even the first dandelion flower, knowing it is one of many wild plants  that I can pick and eat for free gives me joy and a sense of achievement – much more than buying expensive plants from glossy catalogues or plant fairs – and then posting photos of them online!

Other mundane moments of the pas week include spotting a buzzard sitting high in the branches of the silver birch as I chopped veg for tea. Over the next few evenings I found myself watching for him, discovering  ragged piles of pigeon and magpie feathers just outside the garden gate. We ate our first nettle risotto of the year, picked leeks (only the smallest are left now, but oh so sweet after the frosts and snow) and unwrapped the fig tree from its winter fleece to discover new shoots and small fruits that have survived the winter.

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The robin is growing bolder, sitting still long enough for me to take a few photos of him on the fence. He still won’t come and sit beside me, but he will hop down and take food from the ground beside me. The pigeons are courting, one of them is sitting on a nest, a ragged affair in next door’s damson tree and the female blackbird is busy pulling up worms. A flock ( is there a collective noun I’m not aware of) of siskins descended on the garden, the females  gorging on the sunflower seeds in the bird feeder, happy to jostle the goldfinches away (collective noun – a “charm”, or my favourite “a troubling” of goldfinches – thank you google).

I’m reading “The Wood”, by John Lewis – Stemple, the story of a year in the life of the flora and fauna that live in the small wood near his home in Herefodshire. Like his earlier books (“The Running Hare” and “Meadowland”), this is a beautiful imagining* of life in the English countryside. The wood he writes about covers just three and a bit acres, but is filled with birds, ancient trees, wild flowers and creatures that many of us know exist, but seldom see, He spots badgers, a vixen carrying food home to her cubs, migrating birds and insects, describing them in simple language and making me want to walk in the woods at dusk!

Much of my life is ordinary, mundane and lacking excitement. But, the sudden joy of spotting that buzzard in the tree, the siskins, or last year’s early dusk encounter with a couple of boxing hares  spark feelings of joy and gratitude. Reading The Wood I feel lucky and blessed to live here, to be able to find time to just sit, look out of my window and see all that my small Cheshire garden has to offer. I feel I am part of a wider community of nature lovers and people who appreciate the ordinary and the every day. Look out of your window, look up as you walk along the pavements and find moments of joy in the world around you.

I share photos of the things I spot from my garden, walks in the wood or snatched moments of excitement in an otherwise dull day in my Instagram stories – check out the “highlights” on my profile to see them.

 

  • In an author statement from the The Running Hare, the book is  described as a “substantially non fictional account based on the life, experiences and recollections of the author … except in minor respects .. the contents of this book are true”.

Notes From a Small Garden

My new garden robin.jpgWe have a new Robin, I spotted him on Tuesday. He’s much more cautious than our “old friend” who has kept us company all winter. This new visitor is smaller and as I approached the bird feeder he pressed his back against the fence-  wanting to edge away –  but  also hopeful that I was bringing snacks. I sprinkled a few sunflower seeds on the ground at my feet, he waited until my back was turned before hopping down to seize the plumpest and flying into the apple tree’s branches. I wonder how long it will be before he grows as bold as his friend (pictured above), who would hop down and follow me from the back door to the bin where I store bird food,  then scold me if I didn’t throw a few treats his way before making my way to the hazel tree where I hang the feeders.

I feel sad that we have lost our “old friend”, all winter there have been three robins visiting the garden, but only one has become bold enough to sit beside me as I drink my early morning cuppa on the garden bench. The others kept their distance. I wonder if this is a sign that spring really is here and soon they will start competing for territory, no longer keeping the winter truce which has allowed them all equal access to the food we put out for them every morning. I wonder what happened to my friendly robin? Maybe he failed to spot the sparrow hawk that visits each lunch time, or came off worse in a scuffle with another male. Perhaps (and I hope not), he was caught by the pesky cat “no tail”, who prowls around looking for  birds to toy with –  but not eat – he’s too well fed to make a proper meal of them. He often left them, shocked (or worse, needing to be put out of their misery) on the back step, but as he has learnt he’s not welcome here, he prefers the hidden space behind the shed where he can bask in the sunshine unseen from the house and lick his lips as he hopes for easy prey.

This new robin is quite tiny, his plumage bright red and his eyes beady black. Today he sat and watched me as I added some veg peelings to the compost bin, edging closer as I searched through the top layers, hoping to see signs of the brandling worms that have been buried deep over winter. Soon they will make their way to the top layers, their bodies entwined as they respond to the warmer weather, a writhing mass of breeding worms that turn my garden waste into rich, black gold to mulch the veg patch. This robin hasn’t learnt what a rich source of food can be found in the compost yet, it won’t be long before he’s hopping in and out. The wooden lid doesn’t fit properly and the older, wiser birds know that it’s full of meaty morsels, slugs, beetles and grubs that have made their home in the warm, moist compost.

male blackbird

As I walk back to the house, the blackbird calls to me and as I turn to listen, the tiny pink flower of the hazel catches my eye. It’s the first time this year I’ve spotted them in our garden. I’ve been too busy rushing in and out of the house, avoiding the cold blasts, the rain and even snow this winter. I have photographed them on my walks, but this is the first from my own garden.

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Standing at the door, I watch out new robin squabble with the hedge sparrows and scuffle under the feeders for dropped seed with a couple of gold finches and a  thrush that turns over leaves looking for snails. We may only have a small garden, but on mornings like these it has as much to offer as any nature reserve and I head back indoors grateful to be home from my London trip , and not even grumpy any more that I was woken by these same birds singing their  dawn chorus at 5.30am!

If you want to know more about the robin, or the rest of our common garden birds, a good place to start is the RSPB website.

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!

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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!

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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!

What is a Capsule Wardrobe? (and why I don’t care if I don’t have one)

A photo of my wardrobe

My not so capsule wardrobe – it appears I like pattern!

So, what is a capsule wardrobe? I am reading so much about streamlining, de cluttering and minimalism at the moment and at every turn I come across this concept of the capsule wardrobe. Now, I remember years ago reading about this in Women’s magazines. There were features every month about how a grey / black / neutral limited wardrobe would simplify your life and turn you from a Slummy Mummy to super together Mum about Town overnight. I tried them, but I’m just really bad at following rules!

The idea of a streamlined, simplified wardrobe does sound appealing. I just can’t see how it would work for me. I’ve looked at the Konmari method, Project 333  and dozens of podcasts, blogs and Instagram feeds promising me the secret to a minimal wardrobe. Wouldn’t it be great to open your wardrobe every morning and not be faced with that “Oh my, what am I going to wear” dilemma? I solved it by working from home – honestly – the Amazon delivery man doesn’t blink an eye if I  open the door three days running in the same t shirt and yoga pants I laughingly call “work out wear”. When I do venture out, pulling on a Seasalt tunic and a pair of jeans works for me every time! Have I got a capsule wardrobe already, but just don’t know it?

Because I wanted to write this post, I took a photo of my wardrobe. The truth is, I don’t really have that many clothes. Do I? Living in the UK, I definitely need to dress for the seasons.  There are winter clothes (down coat, waterproof, sturdy boots), gardening clothes (jeans, t shirts and jumpers that don’t mind getting filthy when I’m weeding), decorating and housework clothes, special occasion clothes and then the stuff I wear every day. I pulled apart the hangers and thought about what I could throw away (in the words of Marie Kondo, what doesn’t “spark joy”). Honestly? I couldn’t say every item in my wardrobe sparks joy, but it does serve a purpose. There is nothing I could throw away.

I don’t buy clothes very often, but when I do I definitely fall into the “buy once buy well” camp. I like clothes that will last and earn their keep. Some are from charity shops, some were swapped with friends and there are a few “special” purchases bought for occasions such as weddings or my daughter’s graduation. I’m a big believer in clothes meeting the  “30 wears” rule. A reaction against disposable fashion, buying clothes you’ll wear at least 30 times certainly encourages you think about longevity, not just seasonal style. I have a functional wardrobe, and it serves me well

So, what do I mean by a “functional” wardrobe? Every thing in my wardrobe serves a purpose. The high waist bootleg jeans for those “fat and frumpy” days; the straight leg petite fit jeans that look great with heeled boots and a smart shirt for “daytime smart / casual”. The John Rocha dress I bought in the sale that only comes out for weddings and christenings. The basic t shirts and sweatshirts I wear every day, paired with jeans and the summer skirts and strappy tops that only see the light of day for two weeks every July! There are leggings for running (currently unworn because bloomin’ Lupus is flaring), the paint spattered jeans for annual decorating, the dressing gown and nightie that only come out for hospital visits. The Christmas t shirt that only gets worn in December and the beautiful beyond imagination embroidered and sequinned wool skirt that cost an arm and a leg 20 years ago, but still comes into it’s own for winter “formals” (works Christmas parties, the day I met Prince Charles* and those days when I really need to dress to impress!) and there, lurking at the back is the leather jacket Mr T bought me 15 years ago –  which truth be told –  no longer zips up. It’s job is to remind me I was once a little bit sassy and could carry off a strappy cocktail dress and leather jacket combo!

Even my undies drawer works hard. 3 bras (black, white, “neutral”), 10 pairs of knickers (ironed and folded  – is that too much information?) and a couple of camisoles for low cut tops that reveal too much middle aged flesh! Of course, we’ll skim over the sock drawer, I do have a little bit of a hand knitted sock addiction!

hand knitted socks

My current favourite pair of hand knitted socks

Is a functional wardrobe as good as, or better than a capsule wardrobe? Could I make do with less? If I threw out everything I haven’t worn for six months what would  I do when summer comes? (or was summer ’17  that glorious week in May and now we’re declining into autumn)? Should I throw away the leather jacket, wool skirt and killer heels just because I don’t wear them very often? Nope, they’ll have their day and having them means I won’t be tempted into spur of the moment or panic buys when the need for such an outfit arises.

You see, all these bloggers talking about their capsule wardrobes seem to be  constantly buying new. They’re all about this season’s sneakers, coat and must have  dress. My summer sneakers are both over ten years old and the Birkenstocks, just in view in that photo of my wardrobe are equally mature. At the end of the summer I’ll clean up my summer shoes, repair the heels, buy new laces and swap them out for my winter boots (similarly vintage).  You see, a capsule wardrobe isn’t the same as a minimal wardrobe and my functional wardrobe probably falls somewhere in between. My wardrobe isn’t full of mix and match separates, I can’t make 20 different looks from six Key pieces. Nor have I pared down my wardrobe to the extent that I have conquered my laundry mountain like these ladies from the Purposeful Home Podcast. But I am still wearing this shirt and denim skirt I bought in 2006!

classic white shirt and denim

My favourite white shirt and denim combo

So I don’t have a capsule wardrobe, who cares? Living with less, doesn’t mean living  with little. Minimalism, intentionalism, slow living, whatever we choose to call it is about living unencumbered by the stuff that causes stress and anxiety.  Taking the time to make considered purchases, valuing what we have and not being weighed down by the pressures of conforming to what we think is expected of us. That’s true minimalism in my book.

*a girl is allowed the occasional name drop, surely?

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You can Eat Cake for Breakfast (but only if it’s my best ever raspberry cake recipe)

20170702124957Not just any cake. Packed with fruit and nuts, this is practically health food! I’ll admit, with no shame we ate a slice for breakfast and felt no guilt. (Nope, not even a little bit). Of course, I’m not suggesting you make a habit of cake for breakfast, but the occasional indulgence is OK. Let’s face it, not much can be worse than those sugar filled cereals we all love but pretend not to because “they’re bad for us”.

I like a cake that will serve as dessert as well as accompany a morning mug of coffee and this old favourite really does fit the bill. You can serve a slice with creme fraiche (or double cream) or just eat it on its own. It is quite moist, not the kind of cake you can eat with your fingers – although Mr T would disagree – sticky fingers can be licked clean he tells me!  I’m sharing the recipe for this Raspberry and Almond cake here (or you can find it by clicking on the recipe tab in the sidebar) but first a few tips.

I tend to weigh out in cups (American, not Australian), simply because that’s easier for me than getting out the scales. Butter has a handy guide on the wrapper, so you can just cut off what you need. I use Spelt flour (Sharpham Park), but there’s no reason why you couldn’t sub a plain flour, or even try using your favourite gluten free if  you need to. I used frozen raspberries, the remainder of last year’s crop. You could use fresh if you prefer.

My oven is a bit on the cool side, so everything takes longer to cook, so use the timings as a guide. You know your oven, so start checking after 45 minutes to test if your cake is cooked. I store my cake in the fridge, but it will sit quite happily at room temperature for a day or two, so long as it’s in an air tight tin. Why do I keep cake in the fridge?  If we can see it, we’ll eat it, so it’s best hidden away behind the vegetables  where Mr T won’t go snacking!

When lining your cake tin, either use a quick release springform tin,  or make sure the lining paper sits higher than the sides of the tin so you can lift it out. This cake won’t thank you for turning it upside down to cool – you’ll end up with a sloppy mess and lose the pretty, crunchy topping.

Orange zest definitely falls in the “food for free” category. Next time you eat an orange, pop the peel in a tub and freeze it. You can grate or zest it from frozen straight into your cake mix. You can do the same with lemons, if you need the juice for a recipe, freeze the empty “shell”.

I don’t know who should take the credit for this recipe, it was sent to me by a friend when my daughter was little, we had enjoyed a slice (well, since we’re friends I’ll admit it was two) at her house and I loved it. Over the years I’ve tweaked it a bit, adding flaked almonds to the topping and experimenting with the sugar quantity (I think I’ve got that just right now). I hope you enjoy it.

This post isn’t sponsored by any of the companies listed in the ingredients. I’ve just names them because they work well for me. You can, of course substitute your personal favourites.

Now, don’t eat it all at once!

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