Today, Maddy from A Slow Adventure shares her favourite ways to make the most of summer evenings. This piece is an extract from her article in issue 4 - head over here to order a copy of the magazine.

Explore

Perhaps the simplest way to take advantage of the longer evenings is to pull on your walking boots, or climb on your bike, and explore your local area. One mile or ten, new routes or old, alone or with others - it doesn’t matter. Just enjoy the journey, notice your surroundings, breathe in the fresh air… and maybe stop off at a pub on the way home.

Feast

Make the most of summer’s plentiful fresh produce and support your local market or farm shop at the same time by picking up some supplies and gathering together your favourite people for a picnic or barbecue - at home, in the park, on the beach or in the woods. If you’re feeling fancy, take your al fresco dining up a notch by hosting a summer supper in your garden. Choose a selection of simple dishes from a seasonally-inspired recipe collection - I recommend The Ethicurean Cookbook or Gill Meller’s Gather - and don’t forget the fairy lights. 

Forage

The season of ripe abundance, summer is a wonderful time for foraging. Look for elder blossom and wild strawberries, herbs and greens (sorrel, mint, fennel, late nettles hiding in patches of shade) and edible flowers such as yarrow, honeysuckle, dog rose, meadowsweet and mallow. You may find mushrooms, too - chanterelles in the woods, or giant puff balls in the fields. By the shore, keep an eye out for sea beet and purslane, samphire, and sea buckthorn berries. In the later months, wander the heathlands for bilberries and look to the trees for hazel and sweet chestnuts, rowan berries, damsons, crab apples and perhaps even cherries. As autumn begins to draw near, seek out the jewels of the hedgerows: blackberries, elderberries, sloes, rosehips and haws. Always forage responsibly by seeking permission from land owners where necessary, taking a reliable field guide, not picking or eating anything you’re unsure of, and leaving plenty of wild treasure behind for others.

Grow

There are few things more satisfying than cooking a meal using ingredients you’ve grown yourself, or filling a vase with flowers from your own cutting patch. Whether you have a huge garden, an allotment or a windowsill, there are plenty of fun and tasty things you can plant and nurture over the summer. If you get going early enough then courgettes, salad leaves, peas and beans should all provide a crop before the autumn. Buying fruits such as tomatoes and strawberries as more mature plants can also be a fun, quick and easy way to grow your own produce at home.

Observe

Every summer there are hundreds of cultural events held in green spaces around the country. From open air concerts, plays and film screenings to firework displays and historical re-enactments, there’s something for every interest, age and budget. Take a blanket, pack a picnic, and enjoy the show.

Play

Outdoor games are a fun group activity for children and adults alike, they’re usually inexpensive or free, and can be played in pretty much any location. Set up an obstacle course, fly a kite, play Pooh Sticks, or host your own Olympics. Make a skittle alley, turn your lawn into a croquet pitch, stack up the giant Jenga, hook rubber ducks out of a paddling pool, or pull together a rounders team. Egg and spoon race, anyone?

Splash

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” So says Ratty in this infamous line from The Wind in the Willows and, I have to say, I’m inclined to agree. Sail around a bay, canoe down a river, row across a lake, or wend your way down a canal on a barge. And if boating isn’t for you then try outdoor swimming instead, either in the wild or at your nearest lido.

Learn

Arm yourself with a nature guide and venture out on a quest to familiarise yourself with our native trees, plants and wildlife. Notice distinctive features, match species to habitats, memorise names and listen to sounds. Simply by paying closer attention to these details, you will soon build up a library of knowledge that will allow you to identify a flower by the shape of its petals or a bird by the tune of its song. If you don’t want to carry a book, there’s a wide range of nature-inspired apps available that store all the information you need on your phone.

Find Maddy writing on her blog or sharing seasonal tales on Instagram.
Image by Annie Spratt.

It’s twilight, and I can only just make out the eaves of the house silhouetted against the sky.  A colony of bats flit in the tree tops, darting in and out of my field of vision, and it feels like I’m watching a game of tennis trying to keep up with them. The fire crackles and chuckles to my left, and I grasp every last bit of heat as the warmth of the sun has long disappeared. Tiny scurried movements alert me to the presence of a wood mouse, and I watch his blurry outline as he hurries back into the long grasses, pausing only once to sniff the air.

Remnants of a summer salad and glasses of kombucha are discarded on the grass; flies hum above in small clouds, eager for a feast of their own. The tea-light in our old lantern is about to burn out, and it’s almost time to embrace the darkness.

There’s something evocative and elusively magical about summer evenings. Hours stretch slowly, and even when the light fades, nature lures us outdoors. If you’d like to make the most of the season, why not adventure after your 9-5 and celebrate the twilight hours?

If, on the other hand, you’re more interested in embracing the sunlight, try waking early, travelling slowly, and make time for small celebrations, Keep an eye out for butterflies colouring the landscape and listen out for the garden warbler and the blackbird.

This piece is an extract from the editor's note of issue 4. Head over here to order a copy of the magazine.
 

Sarah Spencer believes that all living things share natural principles that allow them to grow, stay healthy, be adaptable, develop resilience, become connected and pass on what they’ve learned. She maintains that if we can learn to access the wisdom of the forest we can live happier, healthier and more productive lives ourselves. Today, she tells us a bit more about her work and outlook on life...

The Think like a Tree programme was created as a practical and accessible way for anyone to harness the wisdom of the natural world, and apply it in their own life.

Whilst designing landscapes, gardens and woodlands, I realised that the same principles that make natural ecosystems so successful and enduring could be applied to our own lives. There are a set of natural principles that all living things share, and by looking at these principles, through the lense of trees, we get back to the basics of what is really important in life, like growth, resilience, health and positive relationships.

We share a common ancestor with trees (about 2 billion years ago!), so these are the fundamentals of life.  But trees have had a 280 million year head start in solving the problems that life throws at us, so we would be foolish to ignore all that evolutionary wisdom. 

Think like a tree came into being following my own struggles with ill-health and coping with it forced me to re-evaluate my life and how I can live a fulfilling life, but within my own limits.  And I took a long hard look at how my environment was affecting me, both in terms of my immediate surroundings and the wider world.   I decided I needed to start living more consciously, both in terms of my own wellbeing but also that of the people and other living things around me.  This way of living radically improved my life, allowing me develop my own unique solutions to my problems, and regain my health from a low point of spending over a year in bed.

The principles are taken from permaculture, a nature-inspired design system, and biomimicry, which uses nature to design products and find technical solutions.  And some of them are simply observed whilst I was walking in the woods. 

Once I embarked on this process people kept asking me about it and so I developed the courses where I live in woodlands in South Derbyshire to share my learning.  I am now also working on an online course and a Think like a Tree book, to be published next year.

I'm guided by the natural principles every day - they are really easy to follow, you can observe them in your immediate surroundings and you interpret them in the way that’s relevant to you.   Anyone can do it!   If you see a dandelion pushing through the cracks in the pavement it has something to teach you about resilience and determination. A tree that harbours an ecosystem of insects and birds can teach us a lot about developing co-operative relationships.  Some of those that I use every day are “slow and small solutions” that help me achieve my goals in a more effective way; “use your energy where it can have the most effect" guides me to focus my attention on the important things, and not waste time on the pointless ones (like overthinking things);  “value diversity” helps me to see the good in everyone I meet, when so often it’s easy to gravitate away from those who are different; and my personal favourite is “use your edge” which reminds me step out of my comfort zone and take risks, because that’s what allows exciting new things to happen.   That’s exactly what a birch tree does when it colonizes new ground.

When I teach shorter workshops I can see that even after an hour’s session lightbulbs start going on and I get reactions like “I’ve never thought about it like that!” or “I’d no idea I had so much in common with trees!”  “I didn’t realize what I was feeling is perfectly natural!”.  I think people like the fact that this is about learning from the natural world, and goes beyond simply enjoying the benefits of being in the outdoors (of which of course there are many).During the six week course we go into the principles in depth and the more people engage the more benefits they get.   It’s called Think like a Tree for a reason – you really do have to think!  The feedback has been overwhelming.

The full course follows a 12 step design cycle that allows participants to design for their own unique circumstances, incorporating the principles each week.  So far people have used it for designing a career move, their retirement, their health, their confidence and wellbeing, and to design ways to support others.   But essentially it can be used for every circumstance, from corporate culture, to bring up children. I like the unique approach – every tree is unique so why should we think that a one size fits all method should work for our own problems?

Many people have busy and stressful lives these days so it’s understandable that getting out in nature is not always a priority.  But mindsets are shifting as to the benefits to health and wellbeing, and that is a great motivator.  Usually it’s the thought of getting outside that is the hurdle and when we do we love it.  If you ask people about their most exhilarating moment, when they felt the most alive, it’s usually in the outdoors – like seeing an amazing sunset, or even sitting round a campfire enjoying the company of others.  I wish we could bottle that feeling and sell it!

With all that in mind it’s important to find a way to incorporate contact with nature in your routine, by simple switches, like substituting going to the gym for a going for a walk, or walking to the shops via the park rather than driving.  I love gardening, and seeing new life emerge from tiny seeds at the same time as my own energy levels rise in the spring is exciting (and I get to eat the results!), but each person can find their own sweet spot of wellbeing or their “flow”.  I can guarantee it doesn’t happen sitting at home in front of a screen.

Young people are growing up in a world where they don’t have the freedom or the exposure to the outdoors in the same way as in the past, and they have many more pressures.  I trained as a Forest School leader and initiatives like this are making fantastic strides, but if you grow up divorced from the outdoors you risk becoming scared by it.  There are many children and adults who fear the outdoors, and don’t like getting dirty, and that makes me very sad.

It’s a societal problem – billions of pounds are being spent encouraging people to spend their weekends in shopping centres, and very little encouragement is given to being outside (which is free), essentially because big corporates are losing money every time we do so.

Parents, schools and the government all have a role to play in giving young people a reason to get outside, and from that they can learn to gain enjoyment and find purpose from it.  Children are also very capable of learning from the natural principles and a good one to start with is “feed your roots” asking them what that might mean in making sure they are growing up healthy and strong.

There are some great ways to start thinking more like a tree:

• Get out in nature every day.

• Observe the patterns in nature and in your own life – sleep, food, exercise, energy.

• Think about your core values. Trees have a strong purpose and people are happier when they have purpose too.

• Improve your surroundings – small and slow solutions every day.

• Nurture your relationships.

• Embrace change and challenge – develop resilience.

• Think for the future - every tree that has ever lived has contributed to the creation of the soil and the abundance of our planet, so never think your own actions can’t change the world. Just make sure it’s in a positive way.

 

Further Details

Six week courses take place in south Derbyshire, at Sarah's smallholding and at Whistlewood Common, a new community woodland social enterprise that runs practical courses on a wide range of sustainable subjects.  The woodlands are in the National Forest in a beautiful location in the heart of England.  Sarah can also tailor workshops to corporate or other groups and schools. She will also be running a free workshop at Timber Festival, 6-8 July.

For more information and to sign up to the email list see www.thinklikeatree.co.uk or follow on Facebook or Instagram @thinklikeatree where Sarah regularly posts interesting things about trees.

The daffodils have wilted and the snowdrops have long gone. We've had a few days of sunshine and warm weather, so that can only mean one thing: blossom season has arrived. If you haven't already had your fill on Instagram, here's a flurry of blossom images from the lovely Annie Spratt. If you're interested in taking photographs of flowers, or anything in nature, you might find Annie's walking seasonal photography workshop at our Summer Gathering of interest - click here for more information.

Music. Forests. Art. Ideas. Sounds good, right?

Timber is a new festival exploring the transformative impact of forests, with an exciting programme of artists, performers and areas. Music, art, philosophy and sustainability will weave together into an exhilarating weekend in the heart of the National Forest, one of Britain’s boldest environmental projects.

Festivalgoers will adventure through for its inaugural edition this July (6th-8th), exploring what woodlands can mean to us and how we can re-imagine our relationship with our environment.  There will be the opportunity to play and create in an arboreal wonderland, where the tonic of wildness rules supreme. 

It's all taking place in the National Forest, the first forest to be created at scale in England for over 1000 years. Spanning parts of Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Staffordshire, the first trees in the National Forest were planted over 25 years ago, to transform a landscape that had been left scarred and derelict by the closure of the Midlands coalfield. It's a forest for the nation, a national asset that demonstrates a revolutionary approach to forestry, showing how well-designed woodlands can enrich the lives of people, businesses and wildlife, while helping to address climate change.

Highlights include the world premiere of Seek, Find, Speak, the outdoor theatre companion to The Lost Words, music headliners Jane Weaver and This Is The Kit, a keynote address from Stuart Maconie, the English festival premiere of Jony Easterby’s new interactive performance Tree and Wood, and the greenfield festival premiere of Luke Jerram’s Museum of the Moon.

I'm particularly looking forward to Marshmallow Laser Fest: In the Eyes of the Animal, where you can discover what it’s like to be an animal in the forest through the eyes of four woodland species in an immersive virtual reality experience (have a look at the video below for a taster).

There will also be a fire garden, forest films, a masked ball, storytelling, a coppice maze, woodland workshops, forest bathing, foraging, and a seven metre sculpture of the moon(!).

I'm delighted that Creative Countryside is supporting this not-for-profit festival with sustainability at its heart. 

Fancy joining me in July? Get your earlybird ticket here.

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Collaboration Note:  Thank you to Timber Festival for inviting us to attend.  All thoughts are my own. 

At times it seemed as though spring would never arrive. There have been false starts aplenty, with snow-covered daffodils a frequent sight, but now - finally - it feels as though there's been a shift. 

Snowdrops have given up the fight and have dropped for the last time. Crocuses are starting to be brave. Even the morning chorus is crescendoing. And there's something in the air, or something lacking, more to the point; even in the winds, the sharpness of winter has faded. 

I've been squirrelled away indoors finishing issue three of the magazine, and the two mornings a week I dedicate to Creative Countryside have been spent editing articles, finalising layouts, and proof-reading. It's always an incredibly busy time, but I love the process of compiling the work of so many talented writers, photographers and illustrators.

These images were taken when I visited Bryn Eglur (@thewelshhouse) back in February, just before the snow arrived. The days were sunlit, and the daffodils were just emerging, and I had a quiet few hours to myself to write, plan and think. It's not often these opportunities arise, so I made the most of every minute. Reading in the bath. Watching the sun set over the fields. Listening for the owl.

My husband, Dan, took these photos on his analogue camera, also relishing the chance to take some time for himself and a creative pursuit. I love the way he's captured the low light pouring through the window panes. I think it's the light that I'll remember most about visiting the cottage.

If you'd like to see more, Bryn Eglur is also featured in issue 3 of the magazine, available to order here. 

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Collaboration Note:  Thank you to Dorian at The Welsh House for inviting us to stay.  All words, thoughts and images are my own. 

All images courtesy of the very lovely Annie Spratt, unless otherwise stated.

I can't quite believe it's taken me over three weeks to formulate the words to tell you about the very first Creative Countryside Winter Gathering. What began as a late night musing on Instagram led to 18 of us holed up in the Peak District for the first weekend of the new year. It was rejuvenating, inspiring, incredibly hard work(!), and taught me so much about how I want to build this community from now on.

My sister, Jess, came along as my indispensable co-host, and we arrived mid-afternoon on the Friday at Dalehead Bunkhouse, near Edale, to set up. Darkness steadily rolled in as we decorated with greenery and prepared for the first attendees to arrive. I'd chosen a location nearby a train station (I don't know about you, but arriving by train always feels a bit more stress-free), and after a couple of pick-ups we were settled for the night. 

We began with cider bellini cocktails (which turned out to be a bit more lethal than we'd imagined...) and coupled with a roaring fire, they helped encourage the group of strangers to bond and connect. Before dinner, Mugdha from Kindred & Kind led a herbal tea talk and tasting, and as someone who absolutely hates licquorice, the blend that included it was surprisingly delicious! Jess and I then got on with food preparations, before leading everyone through to feast on creamy mushroom and herb pasta followed by mulled winter fruits and spiced gingerbread.

Conversation flowed in the candlelight and slowly people moved up to bed, or closer to the fire for late night reading. Sleep eluded me that night, but we were up early to make the most of the day.

Just as the sun was rising, Elizabeth led an inspiring meditation with around half the group. I've always struggled with the concept, but her advice that you're supposed to get distracted, that it's coming back to focus that's of most importance, really rang true. The flames of the fire crackled and popped as we were still with our thoughts and Elizabeth's guidance. The second half of the group had left early to explore the hills, and returned just in time for buckwheat pancakes for breakfast.

I managed to escape for half an hour or so to explore with my camera, and it was wonderful to see so many others doing the same, despite the early hour. Creative Countryside's online editor Chelsea then led us over the hills and through the valley on a mindfulness walk. The brief rainstorm lent even more meaning to her words, as were guided to take note of the feel of the mossy wall, acknowledge our senses, and connect with our emotions. A potential stumbling block - a deep boggy pit right next to a stile - was avoided thanks to the characterful farmer who let us walk down his track, albeit with the caveat, "Don't make a habit of it!"

We returned with handfuls of foraged greenery, a few berries, and skeletons of winter grasses, ready to begin our foliage crown workshop, led by Jess. Event bags were handed out, and included craft aprons from Pursuit England, a luxurious green bath potion from Magic Organic Apothecary, lavender firelighters from Rebecca Fletcher, The Almanac by Lia Leendertz, and smudge sticks to cleanse the air from Kindred & Wild.

Image: Jess Townsend

Image: Jess Townsend

Image: Jess Townsend

Image: Eleanor Cheetham

Lunch was a warm cumin roasted carrot and lentil salad, with a cashew nut cheese that I'd never made before, which turned out to be incredibly popular! It was followed by two workshops: pouring our own beeswax candles, and learning all about the process from Francey at Tea and Wildflowers, and a very relaxed mini wreath-making session. It was wonderful to watch as some became engrossed in the creative act of wreath design, and our candles took on so much more meaning once we'd added our words to the glass jars - all taken from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. 

Image: Jess Townsend

Image: Jess Townsend

Before our Twelfth Night feast, we ventured out into the half-darkness to wassail. After wishing each other wassail (or 'good health') and taking a sip of mulled organic Wyld Wood cider from the antique cider mug, we poured cider onto the roots of an apple tree I'd brought from our orchard at home, adding a cider-soaked piece of toast into its boughs, hoping for a prosperous apple harvest for the year ahead. The ceremony then moved on to a raucous session of banging pots and pans to rid the air of evil (insect) spirits, and we closed by eating an apple from my orchard at home, and I encouraged everyone to plant the core and start their own apple-growing.

Image: Jess Townsend

The temperature had dropped and we returned indoors. Our handmade beeswax candles decorated the table, and we feasted on spiced celeriac soup with za'atar, honey-roasted vegetables with quinoa and pesto, and mini apple crumbles. We lingered at the dinner table before venturing outside again to do a spot of stargazing. Shooting stars flashed across the sky as we picked out constellations and attempted to take photographs. 

Image: Sarah Porteus

Image: Sarah Porteus

Our final morning began with a few heading up to Mam Tor to watch the sunrise. The rest of us grabbed a bowl of Nordic spiced porridge and packed up the last of our possessions. A few left early with a long drive ahead, but we stayed awhile in Edale, exploring the village and surrounding fields, and enjoying a hearty pub lunch before saying our goodbyes.

Image: Sarah Porteus

Image: Sarah Porteus

I'm not brilliant with texting people back or replying to emails immediately, and I definitely haven't done half the things I've wanted to with the online Creative Countryside community so far, but in a way these real life meet-ups are the antidote to all of that chaos. I met Chelsea for the first time, and Sarah, our folklore editor, too.  So many of the people that attended have been involved in the magazine. And some I'd never really chatted to before. It was a real mix of truly interesting creatives, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to get to know them more.

The half-stripped trees
struck by a wind together, 
bending all, 
the leaves flutter drily
and refuse to let go
or driven like hail
stream bitterly out to one side
and fall
where the salvias, hard carmine-- 
like no leaf that ever was-- 
edge the bare garden. 

William Carlos Williams

The promise of a new season is a thrill. Watching, waiting for those first signs that change is afoot never gets old, perhaps because we're never quite sure when they will appear. Though December to me feels like winter, and though it is the month I've selected to release the winter issue of the magazine, it isn't cut and dry. Autumn's fragments are still evident in soggy piles of leaves by the side of the road, and the wrinkled conker shells up the footpath, and will remain, no doubt, for some time yet.

Winter is the quiet season. It is a time for reflection, contemplation, and a moment of stillness before life once again springs forth. It is an opportunity to spend dark evenings curled up with a blanket and cup of something hot, with a good book. I honestly can't remember the last time I read a book from cover to cover, but I know that of all the seasons, I love reading about winter the most. 

These are the books on my bedside table this winter.

Dorothy Wordsworth's Christmas Birthday by Carol Ann Duffy.
Set on Christmas Eve in 1799, Duffy's poem takes us to the frozen landscape of the Lake District. With beautiful illustrations by Tom Duxbury, it's the perfect little book to get you in the festive spirit. I also love that it's short enough to read in one sitting, and lasts about as long as a hot chocolate.

Night Sky, or any guide to the stars
My husband loves astronomy, but I'm really more of a beginner. That's not to say I don't enjoy locating key constellations, and it's a brilliant excuse to get outdoors at this time of year. Even better is that it gets dark incredibly early, and unlike the summer months, a spot of stargazing can take place early evening. Take a torch out and use a guide to map the sky.

Snow by Marcus Sedgwick
Another short book, Sedgwick imitates the six sides of a snowflake through the six chapters, exploring art, literature and science of snow, as well as his own experiences and memories. He suggests that "snow is transformative. It changes the world around us... Overnight, it repaints the landscape in white, inevitably bringing to mind concepts like purity and clarity of thought. Over the course of eons, it can remake the earth itself."

Winter edited by Melissa Harrison
Part of the collection of anthologies for the changing seasons, this one is my favourite. Particular highlights include Satish Kumar's approach to wildness, and Kristian Evans' thousand words for snow.

Village Christmas by Laurie Lee
If any collection of stories is likely to awaken nostalgic feelings of early childhood, then it's this one. "Outside there is no surprise in the coldness of the morning. It lies on the valley like a frozen goose. The world is white and keen as a map of the Poles and as still as the paper it's printed on. Icicles hang from the gutters like glass silk stockings and drip hot drops in my hand as I breathe on them."

And of course, there's the winter issue of Creative Countryside if you're more in the mood for a magazine. 

Winter is also the best time to linger in a hot bath. I think I've probably managed three or four baths since my son was born (he's almost nine months now) but I'm determined to make time for more over the festive season. The wonderful folk at Magic Organic Apothecary sent me their new Dreamy Mineral Soak to try, and it's truly the best bath product I've ever smelt. With a healing blend of lavender, pine, cardamom and Himalayan pink salt, it's perfect for soothing aching muscles and purifying the skin (ideal for winter).

Above all else, and as Edith Sitwell recommends, "winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."

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Magic Organic Apothecary Dreamy Mineral Soak was sent as a gift, but there was no expectation of review or endorsement. I only include it in this post as a product I would genuinely recommend.

From the Clock Tower to the Beacon (Malvern Hill Series)

Bluebells (Flora & Fauna, Patterns in Nature Series)

Northhill 'Summer' (The Malvern Hill Series)

Beth lives in Malvern, a town built on the hills in Worcestershire. Surrounded by curving, flowing landscape at every turn, this ebb & flow is at the heart of her work.

Nature has a cathartic effect on Beth - a natural de-stresser in her life. Walking on the hills, in snow, sun, wind or rain, noticing the changing foliage, the awe inspiring view to the black mountains & the vast patchwork plains of the Severn valley, never fails to uplift & put her life into context. 

Beth's work focuses on the tranquility nature brings through minimal line - to capture that moment of 'happy' when you most need it.

Why linocuts? Because she enjoys the whole process of the medium, from initial sketch to simplifying the essence of flow & form, through to the slow & mindful carving of the lino. Each design is hand printed using water-based lightfast organic pigments onto Japanese Hosho paper. Its textured surface makes each print unique.

View more of Beth's designs by visiting her website.

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Beth's wonderful design work will be featured in issue 2 of the magazine. Pre-order your copy here.

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November is… crunching your feet on the first frost, hearty casseroles, being thankful, the flutterings of bright lights and bonfires, reading in front of a roaring fire and misty mornings.

Dates for your diary: Stir-up Sunday (26th). On the final Sunday of November tradition dictates that it's time to make your Christmas pudding, making sure to give everyone in the family a chance to stir the mixture and make a wish. Head over here for a foolproof recipe. 

Things to do at home and in the garden:

• Unearth your slow cooker and try this sausage and bean casserole, or go veggie and opt for this vegetable stew with dumplings.
• Plant some bulbs for the spring. Daffodils, snowdrops or tulips are easiest.
• Turn off the lights and burn a few beeswax candles instead.

Be creative: Although you can buy advent calendars for pennies, I always think it's much more exciting to make your own. My sister and I used to make each other a calendar each year, and would make little gifts for each day; it took us forever to construct but it gave us so much joy each December morning that it was completely worth it.

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THIS POST IS A CONDENSED VERSION OF THE MONTHLY NEWSLETTER I SEND OUT TO SUBSCRIBERS. DON'T WANT TO MISS OUT ON THE NEXT ONE? SIGN UP HERE!

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Apples are synonymous with autumn. The first that twists and breaks free so crisply from its branch is always a delight, and marks the start of the new season in the orchard. Blossom flowers that graced the trees so elegantly in spring give way to robust, round fruits that will be baked into pies, pressed into cider, or simply devoured to the core. Humble though they may appear, apples are representative of many seasonal pleasures, not least the act of preservation and preparing for the cold winter months ahead, something which in our modern society we seem to have lost. The apple has rejected its Roman associations with luxury, and has become an everyday fruit for all seasons – “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” – rather than a food to be relished at its peak.

If you want to be sure of when this is, simply take note of the date for Apple Day, a festival introduced by the arts and environmental charity Common Ground in 1990. On the 21st of October, annual celebrations take place throughout the country, with activities ranging from the stalwart apple identification (there are thought to be over 7,000 varieties!) to apple printing, mummers’ apple plays and poetry evenings. The festival has come a long way since its Covent Garden stallholder origins, and is now celebrated in over 600 locations, from village halls to botanical gardens to the Houses of Parliament.

On the origins of Apple Day, Common Ground remark:

“We wanted to create a popular festival, a date in the calendar, to alert people to our heritage of fruit, to broaden their knowledge and to inspire action. We wanted to stimulate initiatives promoting the importance of our relationship with the land and the links between local production and ecological care, social customs and culture. By giving people reasons to value and conserve them we aimed to prevent further extinction of varieties and loss of traditional orchards.”

Surely, then, the only way to preserve this local distinctiveness, is to make a conscious effort to embrace all varieties of apple, and in particular those local to where we live?

If that’s in or near London, then Borough Market boasts the perfect celebration: a lively family festival that offers apple-hungry visitors the chance to taste apple varieties and other products such as preserves, breads, pies and juices – proof that apples don’t just have to just be a snack-on-the-go, and offering more fuel to their versatile fire. Last year visitors also took part in the apple-peeling competition and enjoyed the boisterous tale of The Fabularium’s Reynard The Fox. Further north, many villages host smaller festivals, and The National Trust offer activities for children at many of their properties. Apple Day is not just about the produce, but also about drawing together as a community. How will you celebrate?

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This piece is an extract from an article in issue 1 of Creative Countryside magazine. Find out more and see further content here.

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It was always my aim to mark the launch of the magazine with a seasonal supper. And just over a week ago we gathered to celebrate autumn, and the first print issue of Creative Countryside magazine.

Family and friends arrived to wish me well, but there were also many creatives that came, some I'd never met before, and the eclectic mix was perfect for the informal occasion. Sarah, Creative Countryside's Nature Editor, also visited with her lovely family, and stayed the night in our bell tent. It was wonderful to meet them all, and to be able to exchange stories and ideas throughout the evening, and the following morning. 

Spiced mulled cider (homemade from our apple orchard) was handed out as guests arrived, and candles flickered on every available surface. Though it wasn't a warm night, we opened the back door and lingered outdoors, relishing the cool air and warming our fingers around the mugs of cider. 

Handmade bowls were filled to the brim with autumnal soup, the beetroot, potatoes and squashes picked only the day before from the veg patch. Homemade spelt and sesame seed buns completed the dish, which was followed by an apple & ginger bake, and apple, redcurrant jelly & cinnamon tarts. Eating seasonally is so important in our family's life, and it was wonderful to share a suitably autumnal meal with like-minded others.

I managed to say a few words before handing out gift bags and magazine packages, snatching swift conversations with everyone who attended. Some subscribed there and then, others took home a copy after flicking through the ones on display. 

After most had gone home, I realised that the stack of folk music I'd selected to play remained untouched; conversation had rendered it unnecessary. All the gift bags had gone. We had to raid the storage boxes upstairs for more copies of the magazine as we sold out downstairs. My husband asked me later if I thought the evening had been a success, and though I was almost afraid to say it out loud then, looking back seems to suggest it was.