There’s a quiet magic in the act of connecting with nature—a soft, grounding presence that whispers us back to ourselves. For me, it’s not just a practice but a way of being—a form of creative self-care that nurtures the spirit while inspiring the work of my hands.
Walking through the Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens or the winding trails of Cornish Hill in Daylesford, foraging for elderflowers kissed by the sun or windfallen apples resting gently on the earth, I find myself rooted in the present. These moments—fleeting yet profound—are my meditation, my ritual, and my joy. They are the essence of living well: simple, intentional, and deeply connected to the rhythm of the seasons.
The Art of Foraging: A Reflection of Living Well
Foraging is my quiet act of mindfulness. It’s more than the gathering of nature’s gifts—it’s a conversation with the landscape, a chance to notice its beauty and abundance. The honeyed fragrance of elderflowers, the dusky richness of elderberries, or the earthy delight of wild mushrooms after the rain—all become treasures waiting to be discovered.
There’s something deeply humbling about holding a windfallen apple, its imperfections a reminder of its story and potential. These small acts of seeking, gathering, and creating feel symbiotic—taking what is freely offered while leaving plenty for the earth to continue its cycle.
Each find carries more than its physical presence. It holds the memory of where it was discovered, the season it reflects, and the joy it sparked in that moment. Foraging invites us to slow down, to step lightly, and to embrace the quiet abundance in unexpected places.
Creating with Nature: From Forage to Preserve
The real magic begins when I bring these offerings into my kitchen. Transforming elderflowers into a delicate syrup or windfallen apples into a warm, spiced chutney becomes an extension of the creativity sparked by foraging. The act of preserving isn’t just about saving the harvest; it’s about capturing the essence of the season—the sweetness of spring, the crispness of autumn, the earthiness of winter.
Each creation feels like a bridge between the natural world and our daily lives. A jar of jam becomes more than a spread for toast—it becomes a memory of golden mornings in the garden, a reminder of the beauty we can hold onto.
To me, this is the heart of self-care: engaging with the world around us in a way that honours its gifts, creates something meaningful, and nourishes not just our bodies but our spirits.
A Life Designed in Symbiosis with the Seasons
My passion for foraging and preserving is intertwined with my work as a landscape architect and my journey of creating gardens that reflect the rhythms of nature. At Little Cottage on a Hill, I’ve distilled years of experience into designing a garden that is not only productive and beautiful but also sustainable. It’s a small space that works hard, much like the land itself, embodying the values I hold dear: creativity, community, and a mindful connection to the seasons.
From espaliered fruit trees lining the verges to wicking beds brimming with herbs and vegetables, every element of my garden mirrors the cycles of growth, harvest, and renewal. These gardens are more than spaces to inhabit; they are places of experimentation, creativity, and community—a canvas for my passions and a prototype for sustainable living.
A Shared Joy: Connecting Through Nature
Beyond the personal, these practices have taught me the value of sharing and connecting with others. Through my workshops and collaborations, I’ve seen how foraging, gardening, and creating can inspire a sense of community and collective care for the earth. Gardens and wild spaces remind us of life’s cycles and the beauty of embracing them, not just as observers but as active participants.
There’s an unparalleled joy in these rituals. Whether I’m walking through the fog-laden forest, tending to my verge garden, or crafting a batch of elderflower syrup, I’m reminded of the quiet abundance that surrounds us. These moments, fleeting yet profound, are the essence of living well as I see it—rooted in nature, mindful, and creative.
An Invitation to Begin to Connect with Nature
If this way of living calls to you, start small. Take a walk through a local park or along a favourite path. Notice the textures of bark, the play of light through leaves, the colours that speak of the season. Perhaps you’ll forage a little—always with care, always with respect.
Try crafting something simple, like a syrup or a small jar of jam. Let the act of creation connect you to the land and its gifts, grounding you in the beauty of the present moment.
Nature has a way of holding us, of inspiring and restoring us, if we let it. By engaging with its rhythms—walking, foraging, preserving, or simply pausing to breathe—we find not only self-care but a sense of belonging.
Here’s to the quiet joys, the mindful moments, and the beauty of a life rooted in nature. Let’s walk gently together, in tune with the seasons, and find our way back to the heart of living well.
"There’s no Wi-Fi in Nature, but I promise you’ll find a better connection."