2025 | Earth Pathways Showcase

♈︎ | Moon in Aries ~ The Moon in Aries brings adventurous, confident energy. Let your enthusiasm spark, work with this energy and run with your desires. The mood is direct and impulsive – time to play the music, explore new boundaries, and initiate any plans that have been waiting. Be bold, embrace a sense of headstrong determination.

♉︎ | Moon in Taurus ~ The Moon in Taurus will give a sense of being body-centred. Focus on the physical, there may be enhanced sensuality for you at this time. Feelings of being at peace come into prominence and bring the steady and persistent tenacity needed to continue with a project you have started. There is fertile ground right now in which to plant seeds and ideas.

♊︎ | Moon in Gemini ~ The Moon passing through Gemini creates an active mind and an articulate tongue. Speak your dreams, communicate all you wish to see and do. Be inspired, feel light-hearted. A flip side is that we can feel restless and fickle, so ground and re-connect by being with the trees.

♋︎ | Moon in Cancer ~ A Cancer Moon creates a need for peace and quiet: a feeling of a need to belong, to be home and feel safety; a motivational time for putting things in order at home. There is much healing potential. Nurture your soul and connect with the beauty in nature. This is a time to be insular. Feelings run deep, making it an ideal time to connect with and listen to your heart.

♌︎ | Moon in Leo ~ This is a time of warmth, generosity, of whole-hearted loving – all the world is a stage. Extroverted vibes bring attention-seeking and a celebration of your own special qualities. Laugh big belly-laughs, smile and bawl at the comedy and tragedy of this life.

♍︎ | Moon in Virgo ~ Reorganise, rethink, assess, analyse everything, especially any plans that are making you feel uneasy. Reflect on your health and wellbeing. The energy is pensive, sensitive, compassionate and particular. Be aware of not only what needs discarding, but also what needs preserving and nurturing.

♎︎ | Moon in Libra ~ A time to create order, balance, and equality. Where can your relationships be more equal? Where can you find fairness and justice? Find equilibrium with work and relationships. Activities that involve self-examination come to the fore.

♏︎ | Moon in Scorpio ~ The Moon in Scorpio can bring an intense emotional experience. This can create a time of deep introspection and a sense of rising passions and interests. The atmosphere of this Moon is an ideal time for connecting with ancestors past and gifts that may have been energetically passed through to you.

♐︎ | Moon in Sagittarius ~ Sagittarius brings great optimism and positivity. This Moon inspires an expansion of consciousness. Journey into the mind at this time, but also travel will be more possible in a physical sense. It is a good time to learn a skill or interest. There is seemingly no limit to the sense of freedom at this time. As a result, mark down all your ideas, but leave the decision-making for later.

♑︎ | Moon in Capricorn ~ With a Capricorn Moon, there is a strong focus on work, with an ambitious yet practical energy. This is a time to gain insights into our strengths and weaknesses. Create goals and plan how to achieve them. Make a list and check it off to create a sense of accomplishment.

♒︎ | Moon in Aquarius ~ During this Moon there is a strong sense of individualism. It is a time to explore new ideas, beliefs and learn from other cultures. Relax, breathe deeply, check in with community, chat to loved ones. The vibes are philosophical, open-minded but also stubborn! Rebellion is the name of the game, take care that your actions are for a positive purpose. This is a great Moon to shift old, stuck patterns and look to a new way of being.

♓︎ | Moon in Pisces ~ This is a really soft, flowing time, as though boundaries and edges are blurred. Be gentle with yourself and others. Rest is in order; candle-lit bathing, drawing, writing, and letting tears flow. This can be an emotionally sensitive time, perfect to retreat and find quiet time to imagine. Get your divinatory tools out, as intuition is at a peak.

The Moon Through the Signs © Seed Sistas 2024

The ever-changing movement and shape of lunar light gives a framework to support magical work, dream connection and harvesting.

The Dark or New Moon ~ The phase of the Moon when there is no Moon visible in the night sky. The Sun and Moon are both on the same side of the Earth. The Moon is between the Earth and the Sun, so cast into shadow; representative of the cunning Crone, the wisdom of the dark. An ideal time for introspection, a time to dream, to rest and lean into the hidden places. The Dark Moon is the time for harvesting medicinal roots and rhizomes when the energies are pulsating down into the soil, deep in the dark earth. Just at the turn of the Dark Moon, the energy of the New Moon enters. This time represents new beginnings, youth and energy. These novel, vibrant energies allow magical workings that invite new growth: the beginnings of a project, a chance to start again, creating beginnings and wishing in your desires. This is a good time for seed planting.

The Waxing Moon ~ This refers to the phase where the Moon is growing in illumination, lasting from the first appearance of the crescent sliver to the Full Moon. Observing the waxing Moon parallels a sense of growing projects, hopes, dreams, anything that you would like more light directed onto. The energy of planted seeds can start to stir with this growing lunar energy.

The Full Moon ~ The Full Moon is a time of great power, representing generosity and abundance. The extended light provides activity in the aerial parts (above ground) of plants, thus the optimal time for harvesting leaves, flowers or fruits. The Full Moon is a time to celebrate successes and accomplishments. It is also an auspicious time for connection magic, to work with kinship, unity, for celebrating togetherness and connection to community.

The Waning Moon ~ The waning Moon is the period from the Full Moon to the next Dark Moon. A period useful for banishing work, such as ridding oneself of bad habits or cutting negative influences out of your life. We use this time for creating clear awareness around where boundaries are needed. Herbs, trees and bushes with thorns are helpful in this work; boundary hedges like Sloe, Hawthorn and Rose potentise the practice through sympathetic magic.

Phases of the Moon © Seed Sistas 2024

From our beautiful home planet of Earth, as we gaze beyond the Moon, we see constellations in the night sky. As the Moon (who does a good job of ruling our emotions, our instincts, and our inner life) passes through these constellations, various qualities come to pass. Between constellational transits, there is a period of time where the Moon is said to be ‘Void of Course’. This is the perfect time to take stock, to restore, to plan, plot and assess but not to start anything afresh.

For some grounded herbal support, you could reach for Valerian during these times, to untangle mentally and relax any tension. Try brewing a Valerian root decoction to add to a foot bath with a drop of Lavender essential oil.

The Moon Void of Course (v/c) © Seed Sistas 2024

The planets of our solar system all travel around the Sun in the same direction, almost on the same plane, in smaller and larger orbits. and they travel at different speeds. When a planet overtakes the Earth or is overtaken by the Earth, we observe that planet start to appear as if it’s moving backwards. Reach for herbal friends that are calming and grounding during these times. Our favourites include Chamomile, Lemon Balm, Fennel, Rose and Hawthorn.

☿ | Mercury ~ 15th March - 7th April / 18th July - 11th August / 9th - 29th November. The big hitter of the retrograde movements, Mercury in retrograde affects communication and the flow of technology working well. A good time to reflect and gather, to prepare and plot. Fennel is ruled by Mercury, so brew yourself a tea or chew some seeds for calm inspiration.

♀︎ | Venus ~ 2nd March - 13th April. A good time to assess relationships and where we can provide self-love. Not necessarily a good time for starting new love. Work with Venusian Rose buds or petals to focus on where you can nurture yourself a little more. Place some on an altar space and make a Rose tea with a drop of honey to sweeten the mood.

♂︎ | Mars ~ 6th December 2024 - 24th February 2025. The planet of fire and drive in retrograde can make tempers quick to flare. Take some chill time, time in nature to support a calming of this high energy time. Mars-ruled, dried Hawthorn berries can make wonderful worry beads, popped in a pouch to fondle when emotions are heightened.

Retrograde Planets © Seed Sistas 2024

Numerology for 2025 ~ 2 + 0 + 2 + 5 = 9 Numerology is an ancient system of number symbology. The year 2025 brings us under the influence of the number 9. Nine is the last of the single-digit numbers, symbolising the accumulated wisdom of the previous nine numbers/years and the ending of an old cycle. This year we are influenced to let go of old patterns and structures, and to make space for new beginnings. The year holds great power and potential for us to make a shift in our conscious choices; to fully commit to following our own wisdom, integrity and truth. Everything has influence. We do nothing in isolation. We collectively create a better future through our words and thoughts as well as our actions.

This year, the urge to care for nature and bring beneficial change into the world, strengthens in the collective heart. It is time to release the past and initiate changes in your lifestyle and ways of being. Reach out and heal your life and the environment, wherever the opportunities arise. We are all in each other’s hands. Become the wise leader… whatever your life path. This is not the time to play safe, but to rise and to lead the way with compassion and simple loving kindness; to give back to nature in celebration of all that has been given to us, and to become a beacon of hope for others to follow.

Numerology for 2025 © Glennie Kindred 2024

Old Woman Winter is a memory keeper, a tradition bearer and story spinner; a recounter of the frozen thread of yarns long spun and wound upon the spindle of myth and memory. She preserves the stories of yesteryears and bygone ways in the memory of ice and deep geological time. She is holder of the hidden lore of land; dark knowledge of root, of seed and soil, the ancient alchemy of death and decay and deep initiation. Her stories are woven with winter words; wrapped in wild weather, swaddled in snow, spun by storm and etched in ice. Her words infused with woodsmoke, spoken softly by fireside and candle glow, and whispered to the crackling flames when the cold is on the ground and the Earth falls into its deepest dreaming. On the longest of nights, sit with her, share stories and dream by the fire and in that deep, deep womb of darkness, there is conceived a first glimmer of light. Barren and cold, the winter womb is yet fertile with possibility, with hope; for midwinter stores in its deepest depth the seed of summer, incubating the light. Old Woman Winter cradles the story of the seasons, uttering them softly back upon the breeze, so that the wintered land is already beginning to dream the spring.

Old Woman Winter © Rachel Digby 2022

In the stillness
of this earth-bound moment
I am held.
The only wisdom
now
found inside
the wren’s song.

All questions
left unanswered.
All knowing
left in the ground,
inside a seed
that is quietly
dreaming itself
into being.

Dream Seed © Rebecca Card 2020

Fog drifted across the low moors, making islands of the hills which are already set amongst a land of sea and sky. Islands within islands within islands, it can seem as though everything is separated by the fog of confusion. Looking at it another way, the fog is just a play of air and water. The air and water that connects all life, that flows through all life. With fresh eyes, the landscape reveals itself as complete and whole, including the one who gazes upon it. The seer, the seen and the seeing are one. All one. The fear of separation and loss is simply a kind of fog in the mind. A confusion. The heart is wider than sky, deeper than sea, greater than all the lands in all the worlds. Let the heart see what is real. And perhaps, just perhaps, we might smile gently upon all the rest.

Elemental Play © Vishwam Gurudas Heckert 2023

As ‘Community Herbalists’ who have focused intent and action on inspiring, creating and supporting community medicine gardens, the magic and power of ritual is of utmost importance to us. All of our work is our prayer, a prayer to shift consciousness to empathy and care. In the fertile soil of shared practices, something truly magical happens – we transcend our individualist selves and sprout into a vibrant community garden. Rituals, like the tender care we give our beloved herbs, have the power to connect us deeply, weaving threads of unity and harmony. Whether it’s the simple act of brewing a cup of herbal tea or joining hands under the full moon, rituals remind us that we are part of a greater cosmic dance.

These enchanting ceremonies, much like seeds sown in unison, cultivate a sense of togetherness that goes beyond the bounds of our own existence. Just as a thriving garden is a collective effort of sun, rain, and earth, our communal rituals create a tapestry of shared experiences, hopes, and dreams. So let’s gather ‘round the cosmic cauldron of unity and let the magic of rituals remind us that we are never alone in this journey. Let’s nurture not just our herbs but also the connections that grow from the fertile ground of shared intention and collective care.

Rooted In Ritual © Seed SistAs 2024

The Land wakes slowly to the returning Sun. Deep within the bowels of the Earth, bulbs are beginning to stir, but it is not yet time to leap into action. First, they sink their roots into the darkness below; for only when they are firmly grounded can they emerge in fullness. Determined snowdrops and courageous crocuses herald the first breath of Spring. At Imbolc we dream of new beginnings, trusting them to emerge when their time is right. A festival of inspiration and incubation, Imbolc has long been associated with the Saint/Goddess Brigid and her triple gifts of word-craft, healing-craft, and smith-craft. She represents the seed of possibility, the power of transformation, and is embodied by a sacred flame.

~ Gather objects, items, and images that inspire and encourage you. Lay them in a circle, taking the time to look at each one and feel what it stirs inside you. Sit in the circle with a sheet of blank paper and a pen. When you feel ready, speak the affirmation: “I root in love to rise anew.” Write or draw your dreams for the year ahead on the paper; dreams for your life, the lives of others and for the Earth itself.

Imbolc © Keli Tomlin 2024

I must go down to the sea again,
Drawn by the wild, uncivilised call of tumbling, crashing waves
Sweeping onto the shore, unrestrained by convention or cares,
Finding their way, unhindered, untrained,
Gentle roar of lacy, white surf over rattling pebbles smoothed by time;
Raucous cry of gulls wheeling above in granite, cloud-covered skies;
The pull of moon on tide, creating rhythms,
Timeless, natural, unbidden,
Unshackled from the clock, untamed by rule or control,
Washing clean sand and shore of detritus from the day.
This is the call which resounds
Deep as the ocean,
Wide as the blue,
Beckoning my soul,
Captivating my mind,
Seducing my heart,
To live as the sea
Wild and free.

The Call of the Sea © Vanessa Wylie 2023

Its power is that its existence is a complete paradox. The emotional element of water defying all natural tendencies so as to commune with the ethereal element of air. With no defined boundary of where one element begins or merges. Fog is non-distinct, yet its presence undeniable. A moist veil that is so dense it yearns to sink towards the earth. Yet it is so light it remains suspended in nothingness. It’s not solid, yet its opacity can feel impenetrable. You can’t touch or grasp it, yet its aqueous arms will be embracing you. It blindfolds you, keeping the bigger picture hidden, whilst offering you a magnifying glass into the immediate ambiguity, the mystery and the hidden secrets of stories of long ago … if you are willing to pick up the gauntlet. And so I accept the invitation from the fog and yield to the unconditional silence.

The Potency of Fog © Louise Hargreaves 2023

We tip into spring. Winter still holds her grip, and the ground is blue with frost in the morning sunshine. The heat is held back from us, but the light is returning. The birds are calling up the snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils as the woodpecker drums the turn of the wheel once again. There is new life, hope, and promise of a glorious year. The sun will once again warm our skin, and the days will soon stretch into the night. Sweet spring, bringer of life, opportunity and vigour. Now, I await the blackthorn blossom.

Spring Promise © Nicola Smalley 2023

Twenty years ago, I took on an allotment which was incredibly overgrown. I dug deep, filling three sacks with bindweed root alone! One sore back later, I needed a different approach.

I strimmed all foliage close to the ground and covered with several sheets of cardboard, topped with a thick layer of manure. The layers acted to block any light, thus killing off the unwanted plants below, leaving a clean slate for my food crops. The first year I sowed the seed of manure-loving plants, courgette and pumpkin did especially well. At the end of the year barely a weed had taken root, so with a thin topping of compost I was ready for year two, potatoes. They dug a little deeper, bringing up nutrients from below the now rotted cardboard layer. By year three, the soil was thick and fertile and I could grow deep-rooted veg such as carrots and parsnips.

I never did dig again, instead just parting the soil with my hands to sow and a hand-fork to uproot. With an annual topping of compost or manure and cramming plants into the space, leaving very little bare soil, I barely pick an unwanted plant volunteer (aka weed). I inter-plant multiple species to confuse predators and boom, I have a very productive allotment, perfect for the digging-averse gardener.

How to Create a Super Productive, No-dig Veg Plot © Rachel Corby 2023

I’m shedding my skin
It’s time to begin
I’ve been hiding away
Discarding old disguises
Getting ready to emerge anew
The stillness before the busyness
The calm before the storm

But now my blood is pumping
Flesh plumping
I’m ready for the balmy sun
To warm me
Call me into being
Release my potent power
The time is right
This is the hour

Skin © Vici Hoban Read 2023

A hare breaks cover
and runs the length of the field
like Spring freed from the thrall of Winter.
Two red kites whistle overhead,
two ravens twirl upside down
their wing tips lightly touching
in a ritual dance of ancient mating.
The winds are gusting cold,
the blue sky is patchy,
my joints feel stiff
and my intentions for the year are sketchy.
But the snake is out of her hole.
The snowdrops, now Cinderella rags
are passing on the mantle to the wild daffodils
and I am here
before breakfast
running the field with hare,
on that wing.

On That Wing © Debra Hall

Life returns to the Land as the Sun grows in strength. Leaves and green shoots dress the earth, while daffodils and tulips burst into bright colour along our borders. The air smells warm and sweet with excitement as birdsong sweeps away the silence of Winter. Creatures of all kinds build nests and burrows to birth their young. On the day of the Spring Equinox the length of daylight and darkness are equal. This is a time of balance and the perfect moment to pause in reflection and anticipation of what lies ahead. Your new dreams will be germinating, and shapes of possible actions may be forming. Eggs are a symbol of the potential that is waiting to be birthed at this time of year. The energy of youthful exuberance, confidence and determination is embodied by the Spring Maiden, rabbits and hares, and the cheerful bleating of lambs.

~ Paint a smooth stone in colours and symbols that reflect your dreams and plans for the growing season. Lay it on the ground (perhaps in a nest) and move a few metres away. Stand quietly, feel the Earth and season around you, recall the markings and intentions on your stone. When you feel ready, speak the affirmation: “I take heart. I take shape. I leap into action.” Run, walk, skip, leap, towards your stone as quickly as you can. Pick it up and imagine the energy in your body transferring to the stone and all the plans and dreams it embodies.

Spring Equinox © Keli Tomlin 2024

The air is thinner
Light, more golden
Breathe in – can you feel it?
Warmer, brighter
Clearer, lighter

Buds bulge
Chinks of colour
Sleepy eyes opening
Shoots stir, roots reach

Winds churn
As Winter and Spring
Dance side by side
Tangling together
Like sheets on a line

Sunlight swells and smiles
Long nights bid goodbye
Ships that pass
Fleeting friends
As one begins
The other ends

The Turning © Vici Hoban Read 2023

Sea meets sky
earth greets rock.
stone becomes sand
coconut gorse
drifts on the air
wind-bent blackthorn
sheds bridal flowers
grey seal peers out from the waves
cormorant spreads her wings to dry
echoes of summers gone
and yet to come
of children grown
of castles built and washed away
alone I climb and gaze below
as swirling waters beat on stone
open handed
touch the sky
and watch the tides of time flow by.

Llangrannog © Josie Smith 2004

Let the small plant growing wild and brave in the dry rock sing to you of great movements of tectonic plates, of the heaving of the earth in birth of continents.

Let the small plant growing free tell you a story of fire and flood and rivers of fire. Of the way they created quartz and feldspar and granite, laid down in sparkling layers of rock.

Let the small plant tell of her root tendrils, nourished by rich minerals borne of aboriginal starfire.

Plant Teacher © Catherine Pawson 2022

Every one of us has a unique potential inside us, a sacred seed that makes us who and what we are if we have the courage to accept it. Something the world needs to become a strong and resilient whole that can heal the fragmented societies we have created.

All of nature tells us that diversity is what allows the whole to thrive, as an ecosystem where everything fulfils its part and lives out its purpose. Ecosystems don’t work though, if the bees try to be oak trees or the eagles try to be beetles. They only work when and because everything makes its contribution to the whole by being what it truly is, by allowing its seed to germinate.

No matter how much we wander from ourselves, the sacred seed within us is never destroyed. It waits patiently for an internal Spring to let it germinate and grow, so that its creative energy can flood out into the world, visible and embodied.

Sacred Seeds © Beth Rees (The Pagan Creative Podcast) 2023

I am the wilderness. I have a wolf in me. My howl echoes through the valley on a winter’s night, calling me home.

I am the wilderness. I have a mistle thrush in me. Perched on the highest branch of the pine, I share my sweet song at dawn with the dark forest as the sun begins a new day.

I am the wilderness. I have a deer in me. I leap gracefully across the grass-filled meadows, rich with the hum of bees gathering nectar for the gods.

I am the wilderness. I have a salmon in me. For thousands of miles, I swim the oceans, then return up the white-froth rivers home to begin a new cycle.

I am the wilderness. I am everlasting.

Wilderness © Nicola Smalley 2023

Hedgerows blossom, trees flower and the Land is overrun with a fresh coat of green. Life is in full flow as we arrive at Beltane. The Sun warms our days and stirs ever more life from the ground. Time to plant out seeds and seedlings now the scent of sweet elderflower and milky hawthorn is in the air. At Beltane, the Green Man wakes to dance across the Land and Lady Spring dances with him. Together they bring fullness, richness, and fertility to the Land and joy to the hearts of all who witness its beauty. The Maypole and its twisting ribbons symbolise their union; a combination of energies that provokes growth in all living things.

~ Gather ribbons, threads, or strips of fabric and lay them as the spokes of a wheel, with a space at the centre. Onto each ribbon, place an object or write a word that represents a being you love. This can be people, places, animals, trees; any beings you feel kinship with. Name one ribbon for yourself. Find a sturdy stick and sit with it in the centre of the ‘wheel’. Take a moment to centre yourself before speaking the affirmation: “Love brings all things to life.” Wrap the ribbons, one at a time, around the stick, allowing them to weave in and out of one another. Allow your love and the love of all things to weave together in beauty and strength. Repeat the affirmation as many times as you wish.

Beltane © Keli Tomlin 2024

There is great space around me,
an opening into a new dimension of being.

We are remembering, re-making ourselves,
despite the winds of chaos that blow. We are
re-building the Light that we are. Sun
breaking through.

We are remembering the life that we were born to live,
as we set ourselves free.
I bend down to touch this flower, small and white and open,
which holds a tiny drop of dew, glinting in the morning sunshine.
It is all promise.

I wipe my eyes with dew.
I carry it inside myself, in my heart, in my brow,
in my song. I am beating my heartbeat out into the garden,
into the world,
and the sky is hearing me.

The Sky is Hearing Me © Bryony Rogers 2023

Life is a gift.
And I am a gift to Life.
I am gifting the flow with layer upon layer of life-giving benevolence
To spread ever inwards and ever outwards, in a joyful celebration of life.
Life is a gift
And I am a gift to Life.
I sing out my life-song, my heart-song,
Deep-filled with connection and resonance.
I give back: Life for Life;
Give thanks for the gifts that are freely given;
Give thanks for my being here now.
Life is a gift
And I am a gift to Life.
Within the vast web of all that is becoming,
I gift myself to life’s song of belonging…

Life is a Gift (Extract from Between the Worlds) © Glennie Kindred 2023

Stepping in
amongst the trees,
ancient trunks,
familiar.
Breathing in,
connecting,
observing,
the bark,
the shape of each leaf,
intricate.
Dappled light
on my face.
Held.

Held © Julia Phillips 2023

Let stars shelter us; that is enough.
Let the earth cradle us; what need have we for more comforts?
Let gravity remind our feet where to tread,
and the sky call us to open our arms and fall against her sweet cheek.
Stars flame out in glorious abandon,
dazzled by their own intimate reflections against your heat-damp skin.
You, an arch of ancient rock, your back held like a polished wave
against a crest of red, night-cool sand, the desert wind singing itself,
half-mournful and languid in the hollows drawn
between your spine and the earth.
Look how the Earth Mother holds us in her arms,
cradling us, if we remember to ground ourselves enough to feel her touch.
How beautiful it is to realise that each star in her flowing mane is unique,
different from the others. Each shines their own way,
and each has its place in the night sky, guiding, dazzling,
flaming out in glorious abandon.
Perhaps I’ll take their lead on this one, and just shine.

Give © George Violet Parker 2023

We live in a huge housing estate on the edge of a busy town. However, corridors of trees that weave their way through the estate remain, and we live a short walk from one of these corridors. I cannot stretch to call these areas woodland as they are not really big enough for such a title, but they are big enough that you feel you are amongst the trees. This is not the fairy tale imaginings of being fully immersed in nature, as the signature of humanity is all around, but the daily walk amongst these trees has become a place to breathe; to replace a view of roofs with a canopy of leaves. Although the roads can still be heard, there is a peace that can only be found where the trees shield us from reality for a little while. I go there to feel soil under my feet rather than concrete, to touch bark rather than metal, to breathe in oxygen rather than fumes. I am so grateful for this piece of respite that I can escape to whenever I need. The trees silently gift us this, despite the encroachment of humans in every direction.

Tree Corridors © Elkie Wild Art 2023

We climbed up high to celebrate the Summer Solstice, up, up into the hills of the White Peak of Derbyshire. We lit the fire, looking out across the valley, with the silver lake carpeting the ground below. The moon rose gracefully into the night sky as pockets of trees stretched skyward.

The fire burned fiercely, hungry for fuel as he bent his ear to listen. We told him our stories and sang him our songs. We read him our poems and expressed our thanks. Drumming, stomping, laughing, crying, our community grew stronger as he burnt brighter.

That night, our souls inched closer to home, closer to what life was like before the cloak of modernity shrouded our light. Together, we rekindled a bone memory from long ago when, living in tribes, everyone mattered, and all were heard. It was a fleeting glimpse but enough for something to shift within each of us. We left the next day a little different to when we had arrived. Inspired, rejuvenated and glowing with deep kinship. We are tribe.

We Are Tribe © Nicola Smalley 2023

The Longest Day has arrived! Our Sun has reached the peak of its annual journey and the Land overflows with green and growing things; energised as bees hurrying between flower and hive. Long days and warm evenings encourage us to embrace our wild side! Light bonfires, walk barefoot, dance and sing. Stretch the animal of your human body and feel alive! Summer Solstice reminds us of our expansive nature; our ability to be present and powerful in the World. If your energy is high and full, embrace that power and make use of it: take positive action for our beautiful Earth and celebrate it. If you feel overstretched or overwhelmed, turn your presence and power inward: reaffirm personal boundaries and realign your actions with your truth and integrity, embracing the sovereignty of the Sun.

~ Find a sturdy branch or stick, Oak would be ideal, and hold it up to the sky. Imagine the Sun’s warmth and energy being drawn towards it and allow that energy to fill the stick and you. Plant the stick in the ground and as you do so speak the affirmation: “I stand in truth and I shine bright.” Picture the ways you are present in the World and the shadow cast by your actions. Allow that strong Sun energy to shine a light on what most needs your attention and energy.

Summer Solstice © Keli Tomlin 2024

It’s midsummer and the days stretch out endlessly
Nature’s energies are high, busy doing
The sultry dog days of Summer have yet to arrive
With their long, golden hours of late afternoon
Carpeting all they touch with amber hues
Summer wildflowers lead me to meadows
To walks at dusk as the day cools
My fingers brushing sundried, parched tall grasses
The wildflowers framed, full of colour
Perfuming the air
My presence disturbs the hum of insects
Sending butterflies dancing up into the cooling breezes
I leave them to enjoy the golden days of Summer

Golden Days of Summer © Georg Cook 2023

Giving an offering when asking for something is both polite and an act of reciprocity. When I began to tread the plant path, my North American teachers offered tobacco or cornmeal, a custom I adopted. However, tobacco is the sacred grandfather of the Americas, and corn is referred to as “Corn Mother”, a gift from the creator and sustainer of life. For both plants, their relationships with the humans of the Americas are deep and rich. Gifting these plants, without that relationship in place, felt empty and meaningless. Despite learning from a more in-tact culture, the importance of not blindly copying them became clear.

With no localindigenous lineage to draw from, my journey to reclaim a more sacred way of being led me to explore what an “offering” truly was and how I could honour that in a geographically appropriate way. I now have two main offerings, sometimes I give a few strands of hair, a gift of myself that will feed the soil. But my most scarce and precious resource is time. So, to give my undivided attention for a period of time, as an offering, is my most valuable gift.

Although orphaned by an absent ancestral tradition, there is another way. Pausing to feel into the meaning of an offering, and finding something to meet that, has imbued an untold richness into making an offering.

Making Appropriate Offerings ~ An Enquiry © Rachel Corby 2023

Gathering wild plants is our botanical birthright, it’s rooted within our bones to harvest the gifts of the earth. The woodland was my first love and safe haven, a place where I could steal away to conjure up whimsical stories and brew blackberry tea for the faeries. I was captured by the woodland’s feral nature, the crabapples that hung like Christmas baubles in the barren winter landscape, the stinging nettles that tickled my feet and the vines that wove their spirit around me. The woodland inspired my imagination to experiment; the thrill of roasting hazelnuts until their shells inevitably exploded was how I learned to cook my foraged fares. Returning home at dusk, my woodland always came with me, her thorns embedded in my skin and her sticky seeds in my hair.

Thirteen years ago, I moved to a magical island, to a place with enchanting hedgerows and a field full of sheep. Yet the land was weary and called out for a new community, so with the sheep safely moved, I planted a woodland of 5000 trees. Foraging became my life again and the tasty snacks that accompanied my events became very popular. The recipes were in constant demand, by people wanting to experience a bit of wild food magic. So eventually I put a little book together…

Seasonal Wild Plant Recipes © Julia Cooper

I live in a small rented cottage with my husband on a remote estate of native trees, hill lochs and mountains, beside the long distance walk, the Southern Upland Way. From our front doorstep to our homemade gratitude bench is a path I walk every day. As soon I put my foot to the ground I feel relief.

When we talk about loss of species what we also mean is the kinship we can’t do without: ravens in the park, their fierce intelligence and jaunty walks; a dragonfly warming her wings on a sunny wall, her three hundred million years of ancestry; deer down from the hill browsing, bluebells after a night of rain that send us home from the Spring woods elated; a blackbird standing sentinel on the blossoming blackthorn under a fine crescent moon conjuring a love song from the heart of the Earth; smells in the hedgerows at Midsummer that we want to crawl into and peer out of. The Green Man soothsaying his enigmatic wisdom in what we need more than words, fresh leaves sprouting from his mouth and ears. Ecocide still whines and scratches at the door as we sneak outside to lace up our boots. But these encounters in the cool of first light or lingering warmth of late evening are pockets of light that leave us feeling consecrated.

My Daily Earthwalk © Debra Hall

I actively court the conditions within me that help me to slip into a subtle aliveness, there at the edges of my consciousness. I expand when I sit with old trees; I surrender to their deep-rooted, calm energy field, breathe more deeply, and slip into the liminal… Later I can return to the tree in my mind’s eye, through my imagination, and re-conjure this feeling of slipping between the worlds. Time is meaningless. I am here. I visit places on the land where time seems to stand still. Cairns, burial mounds and stone circles are particularly potent. These places feel different – mysterious and full of presence. They are described, in our pagan past, as places where ‘the veil is thin’, as entrances to the ‘Otherworld’, or where you could be ‘fetched away by the faeries’. They call to me, and I wonder if they are not entrances to another world, but places that facilitate our shift into another consciousness? I expand into the awareness that everything that exists in the physical world, also exists as a stream of interconnected vibrational energy. We do nothing in isolation. We are in relationship with everything always. I hold on to this understanding and it changes how I feel, what I do and the energy I give.

The Gift of the Liminal (Extract from Between the Worlds) © Glennie Kindred 2023

The heat of Summer begins to wane and the colours of the Land fade. Exhaustion creeps in, even as the Earth prepares to fulfil its harvest potential. In this space between growth and abundance, we sense a turning of the seasonal and energetic tides. This time of First Harvest celebrates the gifts of arable fields and we give thanks to the Land and the hands that gather the harvest for keeping us fed. Bread is baked to honour the early crops and the nourishment they provide. Figures built of natural objects are burned in honour of the Land’s sacrifice. They remind us that we are nourished by the lives of other beings. Wishes are made on the transformative power of fire for a bountiful harvest and a safe Winter.

~ Connect with the Earth itself; touch it with your hands, sit/lay down upon it, press your cheek, or bare feet against it. Listen with your heart for what the Earth may need from you over the coming season. Carefully and respectfully, gather a handful of earth and place it in a container to take home with you. Leave a suitable/safe offering (breadcrumbs, seeds, water) in return. Speak your affirmation: “I give with grace. I receive with love.” Keep the earth in a place of honour, at home, for further reflection; before returning it to the Land at a later date.

Lammas © Keli Tomlin 2024

It’s so delicate
the way
we call them
ears of corn
as if the fields
wait in wonder
to hear our thanks
our prayers

Lughnasadh © Kerry Sharpe 2022

It’s Autumn 2023 at Half Moon Field in South Devon and we’ve gathered to ask the land and its beings; “What is your purpose? What do you desire? What do you need?” We vision quest and constellate to help us listen in.

“I’m not for sheep,” insists the top field, “I’m for trees and crafts.”
“Bring more children here!” replies an oak.
“Sacred spots to sprout across the site,” suggests the shady, fae-beloved pool, “Let the edges and elements meet.”
“Whatever you share and do here will flow downstream,” the tinkling brook reminds us.
The Garden gifts us flowers and bees.

We breathe out and smile. We pledge listening alongside land work; softness amidst sweat. We feel the supportive potential of the local human community, knowing the work will be shared and that the support will be there. A golden light suffuses Half Moon Field as she raises her arms and proclaims; “I exist to give forth from the heart. I am breaking open to change.”

Listening To the Land © Carol Asuray and Charlotte Dean, 2023

Looking out to the horizon I hear the call
Somewhere outside of me
Somewhere deep within
Walking down the beach it gets louder
This calling, this feeling
The one I cannot ignore
I swim out, away from the shore over shingle
To where I am above sand, between the groynes
Deep inhale in
Deep exhale out
Deep inhale in
Breath held, eyes closed
A quick duck dive, two strong kicks
And I’m there, in the dark, in the quiet
Surrounded only by sea
Held in its entirety, in its movement
Its supportive caress
I surrender to the calm
Everything in fluid motion
I, a part of it and it a part of me

The Sea’s Embrace © Georg Cook 2023

He was delivered one moonless night in August. The rescue team installed him in our back field in a repurposed aviary weighted with lumps of local rock. They predicted he would tunnel out in less than a week. We tended him under the cherishing shadows of our mighty oak for three nights, then he was gone, squeezing through a broken corner. We named him Buster and wished him happy trails.

All the long winter we put out the food, hanging on to flimsy clues: occasional droppings, distant barks. When spring brought no reliable proof our hopes dwindled to nothing.

But today I stepped into the field for an evening stroll by the wildlife pond and suddenly he was there, just above my eyeline, a shy, laughing lope into the bracken and gone. Anxious moments later: a long, liquid, slow-motion glide of autumn rust over the far field wall into air and anonymity, just the grey undercarriage and white-tipped tail to confirm yes! Still here, still with us. Thanks, Buster, for letting us know, and sorry about the caging when you arrived. Long and happy loping to you, wild orphaned brother, in the shared secret margins of exile and resistance.

The Rescue Fox © Ric Cheyney 2023

Friends of the Dart came from a passionate group of river swimmers deciding to take action after becoming ill from swimming in 2021. Two years later we’re a thriving community of thousands, led by a dedicated team of five. Our mission is crystal clear and we have one powerful voice; advocating for the Devon river we hold dear. We’re working to improve the water quality of the river Dart from source to sea, through collaboration and partnership. We inform and inspire, and we roll up our sleeves to make a positive impact. We have local water-testing teams, work with water companies and trusts, contribute to national panels and have submitted four Designated Bathing Water applications to Defra. Our efforts benefit the river, its tributaries, their rich ecologies and the wellbeing of our community. Our togetherness is our strength and we wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without the incredible efforts of hundreds of river-loving volunteers and creatives. We aim to reduce the sewage and then remain the Dart’s unwavering protector, ensuring it never faces such pollution again. Together, we’re stewards of our environment; standing strong and proud as the river’s guardians.

Friends of the Dart: Guardians of our River © Charlotte Dean / Friends of the Dart 2023

Desperate to be wild
No more polish
I wish for my thick, wild,
youthful brown
and ageing grey curls
Gifted by ancestors
To be woven with nettles and petals
Flying wildly in the wind
To growl guttural sounds from deep within
Drink the rain
mud splashed up the winter coat upon my legs
But
Whilst walking at night, a fox stalks
Large
A mother perhaps
She is unafraid and wild eyed
I. am. afraid.
need to run
To the comfort of a heated home
Where windows and doors keep such wildlings at a distance
But the safety does not stop the wild calling still
The wild-eyed fox dares me back outside, back to myself…

To Be Wild © Nicola Wood 2023

It comes on the day when you first see a kind of drooping in the leaves. Not a thirsty, still-green wilt that rainfall will quench; more a tired, ready start of a surrender.

It comes when you see the hedges becoming adorned with berries and hips, then when you notice you have put the lights on at dinner, then when you first feel cold in the morning, then when your feet first kick crisp now-fallen leaves with an urge you can’t resist. When something about the air is lighter. Or comfortingly apple-scented.

And you find yourself smiling back over the year, now that memories have had time to clock up. And you notice yourself quietly sorry for what it turned out not to bring or not to be, for what didn’t fruit, what didn’t work out. And you know in your heart, as you pack away your sandals and button up your thicker coat, you know you are wiser for this — even if you can’t quite feel it yet.

Because even the rotten fruit and the unpretty leaves still nourish the soil that will feed next year. The wheel turns.

Turning Autumn © Mo Kendall 2023

The Land erupts into colour and beauty as Harvest reaches its fullness. Berries shine on the branches of Hawthorn and Rowan, blackberries fill our brambles with tasty treats, and chestnuts scatter the ground, coveted by children and squirrels alike. The leaves transform in their decline to the colours of rust, gold and blood; their satisfying crunch makes the chill winds and shorter days more joyful. The Autumn Equinox balances the hours of light and darkness whilst also holding space for a celebration of abundance and gratitude. This doorway into Winter is a chance to look back on all that has been grown and created this year; to celebrate achievements and lay to rest that which no longer bears fruit. Our gratitude overflows with harvest of the Land, and we balance this with our intentions and actions to ensure those who do not know abundance, are acknowledged, and cared for.

~ Gather natural objects; berries, leaves, mosses, stones, sticks, and fallen fruits. On a flat patch of earth or surface use these items to create a picture/mandala, placing each item where it feels right; let the colours and shapes guide you. When you are finished, take a moment to observe it. Consider the abundance in your life and where it has come from. Consider ways you might share this abundance with others. Speak your affirmation: “Abundance is mine. Abundance for all.” followed by any personal intentions, to the Earth and your creation.

A pipistrelle parts day from night,
A barn owl hunts – silent and white.
This is the still time,
the tipping into autumn time.
Pile up the knitting!
Savour the stories and songs!
Kiss the toes of sleep!
Sing to the sun with her low-in-the-sky lips!
This is the eating-out-of-the-store-cupboard time,
bottled plums smiling gold,
chutney, jam and fruit cheese,
crisp dried apple and chewy pear.
This equinox I will meet the dark months laughing
with frosted breath,
waking late, like the sun
to follow her slow ride west.

Sometimes it’s good to curl up
Stay Inside
Comfortably Cocooned
Other times it’s good to unfurl
Step Outside
Let the natural world IN
Have a good stretch
As all animals like to do
Whatever Season
Whether the weather
Let its potency
Permeate every part of you
Everything comes from the ground Upwards
Rooting Down
Rising Up
Always
Returning
As the Wheel of Life Turns
Inspiration comes
When we step outside !

Our faces glow in the circle of firelight; in song we give thanks to Mother Earth as we honour the land our feet dance upon. An owl cries out in the woodland, a counter beat to the sound of our drums echoing off the cliff face.Once though this land throbbed to a harsher beat, men and machines clawed at the limestone, ripped out our hillsides and then abandoned all, leaving behind a jagged scar. Then, just under thirty years ago, another sound rang out as the hard stony ground was prised open and trees were planted: some visionaries of this town had taken back the land to begin a transformation, a seemingly impossible task. Yet, over the years, with determination, more and more trees were planted. As they grew tall and strong the land rejuvenated and wildlife flourished. An orchard, a labyrinth and other carefully placed sculptures were installed. They now enhance the beauty of this community space named by the children of the town as StoneyWood. So, as I beat my drum, in praise of, and inspired by, this place of rebirth I remind myself that each and every one of us can make a difference to this world of ours. By coming together we can create the changes we envisage; through connection and community we can thrive.

Expanding our time horizons, both backwards and forwards, gives us wider perspectives. We are part of lineages beyond just our blood lineages. We are standing on the shoulders of our ancestors, benefitting from the trails they blazed. There is also a duty to continue their work and to not allow those new pathways to become overgrown. For each breakthrough that happened in the past, there was a whole story of struggle and trial and error. There would have been several small tributaries of effort from multiple sources that came together to produce the breakthrough. It is not possible to tease out the exact amount of effort, when and from which direction the breakthrough was made to happen. It is often a non-linear process. Connecting with our ancestors’ stories helps us relate to the sacrifices they made, their motivations for change, what they were fighting for that we perhaps take for granted now.

Connecting with ancestors and future generations brings us to the inevitable realisation that we will be the future generations’ ancestors one day. What will they think of us? Would they be grateful for the doors we have opened up for them, for the benefits and skills that we have passed on? What are the skills, mindsets and stories that we are passing on? What is the legacy we leave behind?

Winter is coming and the Land embraces the need for rest and decay. Deciduous trees cast off their leaves to mulch in the mud, becoming sustenance for the lean times ahead. Mammals and birds continue their Winter preparations and we humans draw the memories of Summer around us like a cloak, as we prepare to embrace the darkness proper. Samhain is a time to honour and remember our beloved dead, ancestors of blood and of soul. Their wisdom is relearned in the stories we tell, the memories we share, and the foods we eat. Light candles, put out pictures, drink toasts, and cook favourite meals; leave a place at your table for those who cannot be present in body, to be welcomed in spirit. Be with the bare trees, the hard earth, the crunching leaves and reaffirm for yourself the knowing that through death and letting go, life renews.

~ Take a good length of red yarn/ribbon; imagine some if you don’t have any. Find a tree that is in the process of shedding its leaves and tie one end of the yarn to it and the other end around yourself. Focus on that connection and then imagine the multitude of other threads that spread out from you and the tree and how they might interweave with other beings. Consider the infinity of threads that exists across the World and throughout time. When you feel ready, speak your affirmation: “In life and in death all are connected.”

As the darkness opens the gateways to our inner world and beckons us beyond the veil of consciousness, we have the opportunity to peel away our surface and look to the bones within.

This is the time to reach down into the layers of soil and rock that make up our shell. Down through the layers of our past and our memories. Down through the ancient fossils of our life, the people we have been in our personal evolution. Reaching deeper still, we find the places where what is past has become wholly transformed through the processes of time and pressure. If we keep reaching, finally we will see it, waiting for us beneath the endless night. The fire, the truth at the centre of us that is burning there, strong and bright and resilient. It invites us to tend our deepest inner light, to be held in the warmth and comfort of its flame as we enter the winter months.

Take a breath
the chaos surrounding you can fall
as if soft feathers rain down from the sky
brushing your skin with the gentlest of touch
Breathe
here you are
not in the future you dream up
Or behind in stuck memory
but in the chest rising and falling
Wrinkled skin beneath your toes
The subtle blinking of every eyelash
Roots grow and ground you
Threads from the earth to your veins
You are soil
Rock
Fire
Water
Your edges cut like the precious stone carved within the cave
Your breath rolls over you
Awareness smooths your being like a pebble on the shore.

Dark moon is the time for stargazing. The time to notice different constellations rise, traverse the sky, and then get eaten up by the far horizon, star by crystal clear shining star. When darkness is complete, the deep black velvet sky becomes almost warm with its depth. Rocks that should be invisible in this absence of light, give away their location with a throbbing presence, rich with life, that fills the darkness with subtle shades of deep purple and maroon. Galaxies overhead twist in on their infinitesimal magnitude like a celestial umbilical cord. Bringing the knowing that we are a part of that spiralling into infinity, seen from any life-form out there, as we see it from here.

In finding my stopping
I discover the soft and the quiet -
all but forgotten beneath the
malheur of the middleworld.
In the stopping is the ground -
temporarily lost - now, anchoring me
to the honest and authentic ground of
belonging to the season of rotting leaves.
This cold, hardening earth
tugging me down,
drawing me in
and upon which the delicate paws
of fox pick their way
towards lean morsels.
The witnessing of this,
in the moment of stopping,
becomes my own sweet, rare morsel,
savoured through the day
as the sacred ground
from which I feed.

The sun surrenders, swallowed into the belly of the Earth, and homeward bound I enter the woods. Indigo ink spilt on the eastern skyline seeps imperceptibly into space. The first stars stipple the twilight, diamonds on darkening velvet. Is the forest wilder at night? I shiver as the owl’s hoot heralds the hunting hour; their prey busy below the creaking canopy, scuttling through humus, rustling dry leaves, snatching furtive snacks. Trees with crooked crowns huddle, smudge their shadows into murky curtains, confer in covert whispers, and hide mysteries beneath their skirts. The forest wafts moths from its woven walls, exhaling a tang of night-time – sharp, crisp, cold, musky and sweet: soil, leaf mould, moss and birch breath. Genetic memories remain, stirring fear of long-gone creatures in the dark. Once the domain of wolf, lynx and bear, now deer run rampant; stags’ bellows shake boughs, loud enough to stun hinds into submission and send shivers down my spine. Thriving lives, spectacles of Nature’s elegant embroidery, perform for an arboreal audience, gathered beneath midnight’s cloak. I reach the comfort of home and hearth, bewitched and enriched by the forest at night.

On a dark December day when the light was falling early in the afternoon, I found myself walking beside the stream that borders the wood. I heard the distinctive, insistent yaffle of a bird flying swiftly like an arrow at the edge of the farmer’s field towards me. It turned sharp right and flew down the stream towards the house, calling loudly. For a few moments, I caught sight of the exquisite and unworldly iridescence of a kingfisher. I was overcome with a sense of wonder to see the unmistakably beautiful, turquoise plumage of a bird that appeared completely at odds with that dull, damp day. Joy arose in the ruins of my broken heart. I knew that this experience was emblematic: That no matter how dark and hopeless life can seem, somewhere, somehow there is a spark of Light that carries an unquenchable message of hope and rebirth.

The Land is cold and quiet. Evergreens glow with inner light against the stark backdrop of bare trees and dark ground, hard with frost. Beneath our layers and behind closed doors we gather to celebrate the warmth and sustenance of community. Meanwhile the Earth and many of its beings sleep and dream, as they wait for the new solar year to begin. The Longest Night inspires celebration. We bring in holly boughs, ivy wreaths, light candles, and eat spiced cakes to conjure a sense of warmth and safety when the colour and vigour of life seems lost and diminished. This is the darkest moment of the year, before the new Sun is reborn; after this dark night, the days will once again lengthen. Take this time to rest and dream, embrace the darkness as a fertile soil for whatever new possibilities will take root in you come Spring.

~ Imagine or look up at the night sky. Feel the weight of your body holding you firmly to the Earth that supports you, and allow your gaze to soften, to take in as much of the sky as you are able. Pick up a warm blanket/scarf and imagine filling it with the darkness of the night sky. When it is full, wrap it around you. Imagine you are held warm and safe by the darkness. Speak your affirmation: “I am held in darkness. I am safe to rest.” Close your eyes. Breathe deeply and feel what arises.

In a world that can feel lonely at times, always remember that we are creatures of the Earth before we are human beings. Our family members might come to us through the unconditional love of animals, the relationships we form with plants or our connection with any aspect of nature. None of us are alone on this planet. We are surrounded by parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, sons, daughters. They have many names, many forms, many faces. They speak many different languages and come to us in many different ways if we are open to receive them.

These relationships transcend a purely human belonging. They draw us into something much deeper and much more ancient. They are the heart of our belonging to the Earth, to nature, to our own wild self. They unlock the untamed part of us that makes us whole, that sits at our core as the same raw life force that drives the plants to unfurl their leaves and reach for the sun.

I am the muse of inner fire
the passion of burning
radiant, with the sun
and the full moon, joyful
I blossom
I am a wanderer among stars
and I know intimately
the dark within and around me
I wear it with love
for I know
where there is darkness, there is light
I am both
I am all
I shine through you, in every cell
I call the summer home
to this body, too familiar
with winter’s cold
so let us light up this night
together

It’s deep dusk on the woodland track … and an intriguing shape emerges a stone’s throw ahead. Lifting the binoculars slowly reveals Buck Hare nibbling trackside herbage, edging towards me. Always a treat to meet a hare. His movements suggest we had been unknowingly approaching each other and if I freeze, he will come even closer.

While I’m still and moth-quiet, his fear transforms to curiosity, perhaps even recognition that I am no threat. Little by little he edges closer, looks at me, chewing thoughtfully, tries one side of the track, then the other. We enter that extraordinary experience – human accepted into the rest of nature – and he comes closer still. While I’m marvelling at this special moment, he approaches further, now only ten feet away. I’m hardly breathing and daren’t move a muscle, nor predict how much closer he’ll come. There’s a spell where he seems to wonder whether there is any other way round me, but then it’s as if he’s actually coming to meet me. He comes up with that lolloping hare gait … but then nonchalantly passes right next to my feet, and behind me the way I’ve just come. It is only when I turn to look that he suddenly skips off into the darkening wood, and I’m left holding with joyful wonderment one of the most privileged moments of my life.

The seed case protects the possibilities
of what is to come, still needing nurturance
and to be shielded from cold.

Seeds hold the wisdom and learning
of all the seeds that have been before,
bringing all their energy to this dormant life,

waiting quietly for enough rainbow days to grow
and become, the cycle continuing,
blessing giving birth to blessing.

step
by
step,
beneath the
cloaked forest canopy,
a haven of sound.
birdsong ensemble,
accompanies the
rustle of
beech trees,
wise oaks,
ancient ferns.
soft steps on
carpets of moss,
crunch of fallen leaves,
snapping of twigs underfoot.
safe within
shifting seasons,
offering eternal,
reassurance.

I am learning how to listen.
Not with my ears, but with my heart.
I am learning how to experience kinship when it is offered,
by reading the signs and intuiting
the interchange. I hum to the land,
to the trees, plants and waters…
and words come through me.
I am giving my heart.
I am receiving through my heart.
It is a different kind
of conversation…

You may feel small,
wondering what you can do.
Drop your stones all the same.

You may not see the ripples
but trust they are there,
circling out.
Who knows their reach,
where they’ll lap?

Don’t judge your pebbles’ worth
by the return.
Trust the unseen.

Your ripples know their work
& criss-crossing
the wake of other stones,
in time they’ll create waves.

We walk three and half miles, a circular walk in the Aeron Valley, on the flat land that was formed during the ice age. I breathe in the fragrant air and it smells of honey. The bluebells are fading now, producing fat seed pods where once exquisitely coloured bells nodded. Foxgloves are beginning to bloom, still curled over at the top, but the lower flowers, vividly pink and dotted with dark freckles, are big enough for me to slip my finger into. I watch a bumble bee nestle into the mouth of each flower, emerging pollen-dusted and buzzing. I wish I could run my finger along his furry, black-and-yellow-striped back, and I imagine how it would feel. I want to get up close and intimate with all of nature.

If not now, when?
This time will never come again
Look back at moments past
When will be our last?
Stand still on this earth
Close your ears
To fears of tomorrow
Or doubts about your worth
Lay down your busy stuff
And take the hands of others
Who may be waiting for you
Without knowing
What they are waiting for
Don’t hold back living any more
The time is always now

Let the wind stir your soul
to dance the wildness
Dance nature’s patterns
as the days change
Dance till your heart
sings the beat of the earth
Dance into the depths of darkness
Dance into the coming light
Dance together in wonder

When it felt like my connection to the land had been extinguished
I looked for the light and realised I was the light
I looked for the trees and found a forest growing between my ribcage
I looked for the river and felt it flowing through my veins
I listened for birdsong and a murmuration cracked open my chest
I looked for the fields and felt the grass growing from my skin
I searched for warmth and smelt a fire rising from my heart
it was here
all of it
It never left

The last greens of summer had given way to autumn. The trees were shedding their leaves, and even the mulch on the floor had tightened and sunk inwards as if being swallowed back into the earth. Everywhere I looked, the forest was brown. The trees were growing more bare and brown and becoming as empty as lace against the sky, and below them in the earth carpets of nuts waited for us to gather them. Everything seemed to grow darker. Even the pines, the holly and brambles seemed to have drawn a darkness into themselves, as if thickening their evergreen for the coming winter. Each day the sun penetrated the forest less deeply, and then one morning I woke up and there was frost.

Lead from your heart
Look to nature for answers on your leadership journey
Lead like a buzzard with joy on the thermals
Be like a tree drawing nourishment from deep within the Earth
Flow like an apple tree with abundant times of giving
and fallow times of resting
Join hands together to carry heavy loads
Hold boundaries like a mama bear fiercely protective of her cubs
Lead like migrating birds using the stars and magnetic fields to navigate
Guide like the moon, waxing and waning,
influencing ebbs and flows from a distance
Speak like the wren with a huge voice for your size, full of trills and flourishes
Lead like a species on the edge of survival
Most of all lead like yourself
And follow your heart

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Earth Pathways Diary and Wall Calendar 2025

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