As It Was Told on the Downs... I was told this years ago, as it happened, not as a story meant to frighten, but as something that simply took place. It was told plainly, without embellishment, as a reminder to be careful of what you follow when you’re out on the open land alone. There was a man out hiking on the downs on a summer afternoon. As he crested a hill, he stopped beside an old, wind-blown hawthorn and looked out across the view. As he stood there, he became aware of

When the orchard sighs and the boughs let go… In early summer, as the sun strengthens and green turns to gold at the edges, many fruit...

Ripe damsons waiting to be foraged There’s something very soul-satisfying about ambling along ancient tracks, and even more so when...

If there’s one certainty to everything in life it’s that time keeps ticking on. Amid the mad rush (or quiet stillness) of the everyday,...

I've been thinking about something recently and it begins with a few recurring themes I keep coming across in plant lore. It's about the...