Solastalgia
Solastalgia is the word for the grief that we feel when a place that we are connected to is gone because it has changed. It is different to missing a place because you can’t get there. It describes a place that has changed beyond recognition. It often refers to people’s responses to climate change or processes like mining or logging. Perhaps I am beginning to grieve the version of the clearing that no longer exists.
Rain
I felt quite excited as I went into the garage to unearth my waterproof boots, buried under picnic blankets and beach towels. The boots were still crusted with mud from their last outing, in the dim and distant past when it used to rain. Boots strapped on, waterproof jacket zipped up, I headed to the dried up stream bed, wondering if it would be flowing after a few hours of torrential rain.
Notes from the past
Have you ever received a message from your past self that tells you exactly what you need to do now? Read on to find out how this worked out for me when I found an old notebook and took my own advice
The Wind Nuzzles the Bark
There’s so much written about the miracle of new life in spring, I’ve been wondering if there’s anything I can add. The only thing that made a lasting impact on me this month was this tree, which is at the end of it’s life, not the beginning. I’ve been resisting writing about it, thinking I should find something more cheery to share with you. Well, here we are, nearing the end of the month. Nothing else has spoken to me like this fallen oak did. In winter I’m always trying to persuade people that the cycle of life is not divided neatly into four seasons and there are signs of new life in the darkness. Now, I am captivated by death whilst surrounded by an explosion of life in the hedgerows and forest. You can’t have one without the other.
Nature Quest
An invitation to go on a Nature Quest, indoors or outdoors. You’ll find different things every day, particularly with the changeable spring weather!
When doubt sneaks in
In a moment of uncertainty, I find myself watching jerky raindrops dribbling in spasms down the window. The view of the garden is obscured and changed behind wobbly stripes of water and glass. Suddenly, I have an idea and set myself the challenge of going for a walk and finding ways to look at the world through a different lens. The results are surprising.
Notes from the Forest: January - Reading to a Tree
Yes, that's me reading aloud to a tree.
To put this in to context, I should explain that I recently read a study that proved that plants can hear sounds. The study involved playing the sound of water moving in the soil, with no actual presence of any kind of moisture. The plants roots grew towards the sound. So , plants don’t have ears and brains like we do, but they do respond to sounds.
An invitation to put down a burden
Is it time to put down something that is burdening you?
An Invitation to take in the colours.
This prompt is sometimes more revealing than you expect. How often do we take pause to notice where we’ve come from?
An Invitation to Come Alive
A call to the soul to make yourself sensitive and open to all the things you have stopped noticing.
Autumn does not automatically teach us anything
Autumn does not mean that you should learn the art of acceptance and letting go, just because trees don’t cling to their leaves. You are not a tree and this might not be the right lesson for you at the moment.
The vivid transformation of autumn does not automatically teach us to embrace change, and see change as part of a cycle and preparation for renewal. You might actually need a very firm ending to something.
A Daily Invitation
You can use my Other Ways to Walk cards as a prompt to set an intention for a walk. Simply pull one card at random from the pack and use that as a guide. It’s a great way to bring new interest to a regular walk.
I’m doing that for you today - here’s your invitation to connect with nature by finding something precious to hold. Maybe you will go for a little walk together, before you do the last step.
How are you Getting Your Fix?
The first smattering of rain is falling, staining the grey garden cushions with dark leopard print patterns. I stay, enjoying the sound and smell of the rain. The resident starling colony, numbers swollen by a successful breeding season, are making a cacophonous sound on the roof of my house, chattering, whistling and clicking at great speed and volume. With a whoosh, they take off, moving as one, briefly darkening the sky as they zoom overhead, then swerve left across the gardens, out of sight.
Radical Empathy
Next week I’m giving a presentation about my Nature Connection Manifesto, developed during a knowledge exchange project with the University of Huddersfield, 2024. The manifesto highlights the significance of reconnecting with the natural world, for individual and environmental well-being and proposes six actions. In preparation for the Nature Connections 2025 conference I’ve been thinking about how the Six Actions relate to each other. In particular I’ve been thinking about the role of empathy.