Winter mornings can be a struggle to get up to when it’s cold and still dark outside. It makes me want to stay nestled underneath the duvet covers until the morning light appears through my curtains. But early on a cold and clear winter’s morning, magic begins to happen.

Although it’ll still be dark outside, I’ll open up the curtains wide to see that the window panes will be frosted and condensated and cold to the touch. And if I peer through the window, I’ll just be able to see the ice formed on the windows of the cars parked along the street. I like to turn on the fairy lights for that warm, comforting golden glow to fill the room whilst it's still dark. I’ll wrap up warm in my dressing gown and sleepily head downstairs to boil the kettle for a big cup of tea. By the time I'm back upstairs, setting my cup of tea to one side on the bedside table, it will start to get lighter outside and that's when the magic begins.

It will still be quiet outside, although with the hum of cars passing by the main road in the distance, sometimes catching the sound of a train chugging along its tracks at the nearest railway, a few birds chirping in the back garden and if I'm lucky, I'll catch a plump of geese flying close together over the house. There's no rush at this time of morning, just warmth, cosiness and the company of a good cup of tea and a book to read before I get ready for the day.

As it begins to get lighter, just below the row of trees at the bottom of the street the sun will begin to rise and the colours of the sky begin to change. It sets alight with fiery oranges and peaches and notes of pinks, purples and yellows, that blend in streaks through the white clouds like watercolours bleeding across a canvas painting.

The morning frost will glisten on the rooftops, across the lawns and down the paths of the street. Sprinkled around like fairy dust, dressing spiderwebs in tiny, delicate ice crystals, freezing old crunchy autumn leaves left trodden along the paths, clinging to the details on the veins of each leaf. The whole street will be transformed into a winter wonderland, as if everything has been lulled to sleep under a thin blanket of ice, until it melts away by the time the afternoon arrives.

And so, when I get up just that little bit earlier with an extra slow hour to spare, it’s definitely worth it to see the magic on a winter’s morning.

Kayleigh Wright 

Our Gifting Guide

Join us in celebrating and supporting our small, handmade and sustainable businesses. We’ve hand-picked a selection of creative folk who we know you will love just as much as we do.

Day 1:  Greetings

Festive cards by We are Stardust

Where art and science collide, these hand illustrated festive cards are a perfect seasonal reminder for friends and family. Get 10% off your Christmas order using the code CCCHRISTMAS2018 (offer ends December 2018).

Day 2: Time out

The Empowered Entrepreneur by Elizabeth Cairns

As the year draws to a close, the The Empowered Entrepreneur, Elizabeth’s first book, complete with botanical illustrations and pictures,  is the perfect antidote for reflection and self-development.

Day 3: Bringing Nature into the Home

Mini wreaths by Botanical Tales

Add a touch of seasonal creativity with these cute little handmade wreaths. Perfect for Christmas place settings or even a small token of appreciation.

Day 4: Indulge

Natural and homemade skincare by Kindred + Wild

We love the Lavender and  Chamomile bath salt, ideal  for those who are always on the go - a simple reminder to slow down and enjoy nature’s gifts. Last orders are December 5th. They’re also offering a gift wrap service!

Day 5: Let Light In

Hand Blended Aromatherapy Soy Wax Candles by The Smallest Light

Let some light in over the dark period with this hand-blended festive candle duo. Environmentally friendly candles are the perfect gift for those with consideration for the earth.  Get 10% off using the code ‘community’ (offer ends December 31st), or buy our Yule bundle, which includes a ‘Star of Wonder’ candle.

Day 6:  Make Do and Mend

A copy of Mending Matters by Katrina Rodaugh

This book is the ultimate gift for those looking to learn how to keep their old clothes and give them a new lease of  life. We’ll be running this as a book giveaway early 2019!

Day 7: Capturing the natural world

Artwork by Deborah Vass

If you like to be cosy during this time of year, why not bring a touch of the outside in with this wonderful oil painting of a scene in Sussex, a print of a wren in winter, or this beautiful painting of a yew bough.

Day 8: Dress Up

Slow, handmade fashion by House of Flint

Think seasonal and practical pieces made of organic cotton and linen. Our favourite is the fold dress made out of Irish linen and available in three autumn / winter inspired colours.

Day 9:  Catching the moment

Iconic bronzed leaves by Ashleaf London

Time goes too fast but you can preserve the moment with your very own bronzed leaf. Ashleaf London provide a customisable handmade service. Check out their Instagram for some awesome behind the scenes.

Day 10:  Join the club

Simple and traditional crafts by Snapdragon

Snapdragon is a wonderful membership site which offers craft tutorials and products for the home and garden. There is something for all ages!  Our favourite is this embroidered flower apron to keep our best clothes clean from all of that Christmas baking.

Day 11: Embrace the Elements

Frost inspired pendant by Silver Nutmeg

Keep the winter season close to your heart with a handmade silver sterling hoop pendant beautifully packaged with eco friendly materials.  

Day 12: Finishing touches

Porcelain tree decorations by Kate Luck Ceramics

Replace plastics with luxurious porcelain ivy, holly, oak, bramble or feather decorations handmade with love. Our favourite is the holly!

Thank you for helping us to support these wonderful small creative businesses!

On the journal today, we talk to Kate a ceramic artist. Watch our for her increbible conker masterpieces - a perfect seasonal orement.

CC: Tell us about Kate Luck Ceramics and the journey you took to starting your own business?

K: I studied Ceramic Design at Central St Martins and decided to specialise in mould making and slip casting. I graduated without a product I wanted to sell but certain that I was made to make. Graduating in 2009, I walked straight in to a recession. The arts had been severely cut back and there were no jobs.

I went on to do an amazing apprenticeship with a master mould maker. After my year as an apprentice and a further two years working as an assistant to a couple of ceramicists, I learned of an incubator ceramics studio in North London, near where I lived. With no plan I joined the studio in September 2011, within three years I became the studio manager for twenty five ceramicists.

I started up a Facebook page and blog advertising my mould making and batch production casting service and the commissions came rolling in. For six years I worked on a wide variety of amazing commissions from replicas for Hampton Court Palace to chandeliers and sculptures.

After getting married and moving to rural Bedfordshire, I knew that the time was right to leave production work behind and start making my own work. I have been working on my own collection of porcelain wall sculptures for the last year. My seasonal designs seek to capture childhood memories and family stories in nature, gently reminding us to celebrate the simple pleasures in life.

CC: I know your work is inspired by family stories, magic and nature. Can you tell us why nature is so important to you, and how it influences the way you live and work?

K:My maternal family comes from Anglesey, a small island off the north coast of Wales. Most of our school holidays would involve a trip to Anglesey. Our holidays there were centred on time outdoors no matter what the weather, whether that was beachcombing and skimming stones or climbing trees in woodland covered in lush wild garlic.

En route to Anglesey we would drive through Snowdonia National Park and I grew up in awe of those mountains. Even now every drive through the mountains replenishes my soul. There is something special about the magnitude of nature that heals, grounds and balances me. I turn to nature to remind me that I am just passing through and unlike the mountains I’m not permanent. Nature has a way of giving me perspective.

In 2012 I lost my paternal Grandmother and father to cancer in one week. When it was close to the end, the simple little pleasures we could find from each day became very important. I would bring my father blackberries picked from the garden and he would savour each one. One of my last memories is wheeling my father outside to breathe in the smell of summer rain on hot earth.

The power of these little simple pleasures has stayed with me ever since. When the world seems tough and problems seem to mount up around me, nature reminds me to take time to reflect and refocus on what it is that I truly need. There’s a quote that says it is impossible to walk in the woods and be in a bad mood at the same time, I find this to be true. Nature is my councilor.

CC:I’d love to know what has been the biggest challenge, and the best surprise in running your own business?

K:In the last year the biggest challenge has been switching from a service-based business to a product-based business. I’m still learning and navigating how to approach and gain new stockists and how to sell my work online.

I find that running a creative business is somewhat of an organic process; things do take time and evolve naturally. Despite the new challenges I am facing, it was certainly the right decision for my creativity and I am enjoying the transition.

I think the biggest surprise is probably how much resilience running your own business requires. You need to have so much inner strength to pursue your dreams, pushing onwards even when it seems impossible just because you know that is the route to your true happiness.

CC:Can you tell us about your home, your workspace, and what a typical day for you looks like?

K: I moved to Bedfordshire almost a year ago and it was one of the best decisions my husband and I have ever made. We love the country life and it’s been a real joy discovering our local area over the seasons. I’m very lucky that I have a studio in my garden, but that doesn’t mean I don’t walk to work!

A typical day starts with taking my fox red Labrador Rupert for a good walk over the fields and around the lakes near us. I find it’s a great way to set me up for the day, plan what I need to achieve as well as being a great source of inspiration. I usually always snap a picture of something that catches my eye. Once home it’s kettle on and time to head to the studio to start the working day.

In the studio it’s usually classical music on the radio that fuels my mornings as I get all my emails and social media done and then I flip to an audio book ready to crack on with making undisturbed for the rest of the day. Making days have their own natural rhythm and pattern that add up resulting in a finished piece, it’s a very fluid process of both planning and responding to what needs to be done.

The vast majority of success when working with clay, unlike many other organic materials, is timing. Certain things must be done at certain times, too wet and the shape could collapse, too dry and it can crack. It’s the most instinctual part of my job, working according to what feels right.

CC:When you aren’t working on your business, how do you enjoy spending your time?

K: Having adventures with my husband and our dog Rupert takes up a lot of my free time and takes us to some fantastic places. Some of the best times we share as a little family are weekend walks, no phones, just holding hands walking the dog, talking about everything and nothing, letting the surroundings wash over us. After a really muddy or crisply cold Autumn walk there’s nothing I like more than an afternoon snuggled up on the sofa watching films with a roaring fire going.  

Together, my husband and I are avid travellers and really enjoy exploring new and obscure places whenever we can. Instead of giving each other gifts we usually take each other away, as we feel memoires last longer than possessions. We usually choose somewhere near mountains where we can just hike and explore, the wonder of our beautiful planet never ceases to amaze me.

CC: And lastly, if someone reading your story were inspired to follow their own creative dream, what advice would you give them?

In a world connected by social media, the pursuit of perfection, branding and creating an image, comparison is a toxic inevitability.  So my advice would be to believe in the validity of your dreams. Your dream is valid because of you, and that validity is not based on or determined by how many likes or shares you get.

Something I do to combat the toxic effects of comparing myself to others is to write down goals I want to achieve in my business at the start of each year. It helps give a focus to your work and a sense of achievement when you have fulfilled them.

The other exercise that I think is especially important is to define what success looks like for you, success doesn’t always need a financial focus. So define your success and go for it, reach for it and believe in it.

You can find Kate over on Instagram and Facebook

On the journal today is Katrina Rodabaugh, a slow fashion and sustainability warrior. We talk to her about her latest book Mending Matters: Stitch, Patch, and Repair Your Favorite Denim & More. She kindly sent us a copy for a review which we’ll share with you soon!

CC: Tell us about Mending Matters and the journey you took to writing your own book?

K: Mending Matters was the result of launching a personal art project, Make Thrift Mend, in August 2013. I launched the project just months after the Rana Plaza garment factory collapse in Dhaka Bangladesh in April 2013 killing over 1,100 people. After the collapse I decided I wouldn’t buy new clothing for one year. Instead I’d focus on making simple garments by hand, supporting thrift stores and secondhand shops, and mending what I already owned.

Soon after mending my clothing a friend asked me to teach my first mending workshop at a fabric store where she worked. It sold out quickly, much to my surprise. I offered a second workshop and that sold out quickly too. That’s when I realized people were eager to learn repair work. That was five years ago and I’ve been focusing on sustainable fashion ever since. Mending Matters is the culmination of teaching mending to thousands of students and wanting to have a way to teach people all over the world. The book allows folks to learn my techniques from their homes instead of traveling to my workshops.

CC: I know you’re inspired by slow fashion. Can you tell us why this is so important to you, and how it influences the way you live and work?

K: Sustainability has always been central to my values. I was an Environmental Studies major in college and then went straight to work for nonprofit arts organizations like galleries, theaters, and art centers. Then I went to graduate school for creative writing and focused on poetry and book arts. So, I was working in arts offices by day, making fiber installations and poetry by night, and trying to live as sustainable as possible.

When the Rana Plaza factory collapsed I realized I had overlooked fashion in my attempts at sustainable living. I was recycling everything, keeping a compost bin in my urban apartment, and supporting my local organic farms but I was buying clothes from the sales racks of major fashion retailers. So, Slow Fashion really helped to deepen my commitment to sustainable living and also align my fiber arts, writing, and environmental concerns with my closet.

CC: I’d love to know what has been the biggest challenge, and the best surprise in writing your own book?

K: This is my second book so I really feel like I could be much more present and have more realistic expectations with this book. I think the biggest challenge is always editing—how to really focus the book on just one topic when there’s so much I want to share. And the best surprise is always the collaborators. The people that supported this book are truly incredible people. By the time the book publishes it’s not just my book anymore. It’s a book by my editor, agent, photographer, models, graphic designer, publicist, and all the folks at Abrams Books and then it’s the book of the reader too. I like thinking of the book as a community effort—it doesn’t exist in a vacuum but instead it’s a collaborative process that continues all the way to the reader mending her jeans.

CC: Can you tell us about your home, your workspace, and what a typical day looked like for you during the writing process?

K: Well, I’ve had to give up any idea of “typical” in the last few years. My husband and I are both working artists and self-employed so our daily schedules shift all the time. But in October 2015 we moved 3,000 miles from a small apartment in Oakland, CA to the rural area of the Hudson Valley in Upstate NY. We bought a 200-year-old farmhouse and immediately started DIY renovations. Our young sons were then just three-years-old and six-months-old. It was a wild time. In January 2016 I sent the book proposal for Mending Matters to a handful of agents and signed with my amazing agent in March. We signed with my publisher in November 2016 and the book was just officially published on October 16, 2018.

So, for the past three years, parenting two young children, DIY renovating an 1820s homestead, and writing this book while being self-employed was really an act in time management, diligent focus, fierce priorities, and a good dose of humor. I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to do in a given day or even a given month. So, I just had to really focus on the deadlines, prioritize the photo shoots, and trust my incredible team of colleagues at Abrams to carry the book to publication. Which they did so beautifully. It was a great reminder that many brains are better than one.

CC: When you aren’t mending, how do you enjoy spending your time?

K: If I’m not in my studio or at my computer I’m probably working on our farmhouse, barns, gardens, or caring for our sons—oftentimes these things overlap, of course. We’ve really leaned into creating the family homestead we dreamed. So, we’ve added chickens and bees and each summer we expand the garden or further renovate the barns into our studio spaces. There are very blurred lines between my work, my home, and my family life but I do try to leave the work behind sometimes and just go canoeing with the boys, have a bonfire in the backyard and roast marshmallows, or go take a family hike. Leisure time is very scarce as a working mom but I relish in the moments when we can really unwind as a family.

CC: And lastly, if someone reading your story were inspired to follow their own creative dream, what advice would you give them?

K: Go for it! You’ll probably never feel ready. You’ll never know everything you need to know or perfectly calculate all the risks. But trust yourself that you’ll figure it out as you go. I think we confuse recklessness with risk-taking. You can be adventurous and take risks and still be very reasonable and responsible. In some ways, it might actually be more responsible to follow our dreams than let them wither. Especially if they’re persistent.

If there’s something you know in your heart you really want to create, build, or achieve, then let that be your guide. Nurture it. Honor it. Protect it. Work towards it like it truly matters. And then, at some point, lean into the not-knowing and start doing. I always think of it as the balance between my heart and my head. My head leads the way with calculating risk, researching, and devising a plan that seems reasonable. But then, at some point, my heart takes the lead and I move into action and just try to hold on for the journey.

Mending matters will be make lovely and practical sustainable gift don’t you think?

Follow Katirina over on Instagram

Jo Moseley, is a keen advocate of picking up plastic, an inspiring speaker, having fun on her stand up paddleboard, breaking boundaries and creating her own destiny. On the journal today, she shares with us her 2 minute beach cleans - for the good of our future.

“Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed”

Mary Oliver

The October sun beams down from a bright blue sky. I stand on my paddleboard and spot the sheep munching their way to the top of the crag. Dogs scamper along the path as their owners try to keep up. A young woman strolls along chatting and laughing into her phone. She turns her face upwards to soak up the afternoon’s golden rays. I think of Mary Oliver’s words and breathe deeply, joyfully, gratefully, for this opportunity.

Like many women in their 50s, my life is busy. Happily flying solo with my sons and keeping a watching brief on my Dad, time for myself is precious and yet vital. Moments like this, tiny adventures on my paddleboard or running in the hills, bring a joy that lasts for days. I return nourished, my soul topped up with happiness and appreciation, ready to tackle the To Do List.

As I glide along the calm waters, free of distraction and with a beautiful autumnal afternoon to myself, I reflect upon the last few months. What have I learned? What has changed around and within me? What do I want to create more of in 2019?

One thing springs to mind – my 365 Days of Love project. Something so simple that has brought such joy. On a chilly January 1st, huddled next to the fire, I scribbled down my hopes and intentions for the year ahead. Amongst them, to do a 2 minute beach clean or litter pick wherever I am each day. Whether that’s walking along the shoreline, running in the hills or dashing to work in town, a commitment to take 2 minutes of each day to pick up litter and stop it from reaching our oceans.

I’ve always loved being at the coast, spending my childhood summers cartwheeling on the beach, throwing myself into the cold northern waves and collecting sea glass from the beach. Over the years, I noticed that amongst the shells and tiny fragments of pottery and glass washed up on the shore, there was more and more plastic. Bottles, crisp packets, bits of bags, discarded fishing net…. Not huge amounts, but more than should be. I sought out other beach cleaners and joined a wonderful community on social media sharing our finds and learning from each other. Watching Sir David Attenborough’s Blue Planet 2 reinforced my commitment to do my little bit to help against plastic pollution.

Two minutes each day. This is going to be a tiny habit, my way of saying thank you for the joy and sense of peace and possibility the hills and waves give me. I call it 365 Days of Love based on a quote from Mother Teresa. “Not of all of us can do great things. But we can all do small things with great love.” This is my small thing with great love.

And yet, I never imagined that something so simple would make such a difference to my life or create so many happy memories. I think back to an early morning run along the cliffs, hopping across the mud to collect a balloon precariously blowing on the edge.

A Sunday paddleboarding with my son to a secluded beach, watching him proudly carry two large plastic containers back to the board. After a sunrise swim, in awe as the seagulls swooped from above and the world awakened, I picked up a broken bucket and spade from the beach. Walking, chatting in the late afternoon glow through the sand dunes of a chilly Northumbrian beach, laughing at how we can’t pass a piece of rubbish without stopping to pick it up!

This year, I have noticed the seasons change more closely and more intimately than before. I’ve run through freshly lain snow and muddy puddles carrying someone else’s rubbish and been thankful for the opportunity. I’ve plotted where the snowdrops grow and when to keep an eye out for the brief gloriousness of the blossoming peonies. On the longest day in June, I ignored the call of the vacuum cleaner for a scramble up the crag to watch the sun set late in the evening. I’ve explored under the roots and branches that hang above the river and watched the heron watching me as I pull a plastic bottle only visible from a paddleboard. I know the week the house on the corner will burst into a riot of red as the leaves that clothe the Yorkshire stone change colour. I’ve smelled the wild garlic and heard the call of the geese. I may not know the names of all the trees or birds but I feel a sense of guardianship I have not experienced before. This is my home and I want to take care of it. One piece of litter, one plastic bottle at a time.

I know I am not alone. The friendships I have met online and in the real world simply because of those two minutes each day have brought such kindness into my life. So many of us, scattered not just across the UK but across the globe, doing our little bit to make a difference. We are cheerleading and encouraging each other. We are a shoulder to lean on when we feel disheartened. I belong not just to the places I look after but to a community. A family of doers, of carers, of people who don’t just talk about making a difference but who actually go out in all weathers and make good on their promises.

Yesterday, as I walked in the bracing wind, I met a dog walker “Hello!’ she said, “What have you picked up today?”. I giggle to myself. I’m the middle aged mother with a bag of litter and proud of it!

Yes, as I stand on my board and look out at the hills of Yorkshire, I know that what I thought was a 2018 project will become a 2019 one too. The hills and waves give me so much – a place to calm my anxious brain, to unfurl my body and feel the joy of simply moving, a sense of possibility as I untangle the day and the challenges I am facing. Taking two minutes each day to say thank you is a habit I have come to love. In giving back, I have gained so much.

As the afternoon draws to a close I pack up my board and head home. Grateful, put back together, joyfully nourished by the fresh air. A small pile of sweet wrappers, an old milkshake cup and bits of broken tennis balls I’ve picked up from the hedgerow by my side. My 2 minute thank you for a cherished memory

You can follow Jo on Instagram and we urge you to do so!

Food provides the human race with a common ground. It's a basic human need that is essential for our survival.  How we source, produce and cook our food is different for us all but it's becoming a global interest in how we can do it better, with less impact and more consideration. 

I've been Vegetarian for 20 years and over the last year, I have been making a switch to becoming a Vegan. This is how I've been doing my bit for the world.  Food is my second most favourite thing  (after adventuring) and I'm always ecstatic to meet people who cook in different ways.  I carry around a mental notebook of these culinary influences and add them to my own pallet.  My favourite type of food includes spoonfuls of ethics, pinches of seasonality, plenty of slow and packed full of flavour and colour!

I had a joyful foodie experience recently during a glamping retreat, where I met Barney from Infamous Catering.  He cooked a 3 course Southern Indian Vegan curry, with freshly foraged goods for a group of ladies, who'd spent the day climbing up waterfalls and exploring dark caves. Our appetites were incredible!

Barney's pots and pans were giving off some seriously good aromas as he leisurely stirred his concoctions.  Next, the freshly foraged wild garlic was crushed and chopped and added to our appetizers. My mouth is watering now thinking back to his generous portions, as he piled them high on our eager palates.  He looked relaxed and at home in the camp's kitchen, telling us what fueled his passion for cooking and his love for seasonal foods.  I like to think there are more and more people in the world who care about where their food comes from, how it's produced and showcasing this with easy to cook, and lots of love enthused meat-free dishes. 

There's something incredibly special when there's a moment of silence during meal time as we take time to appreciate what's in front of us. Our visuals took in the rich colours of the mild curry and dahl, our nose inhaled those slowly cooked spices and our taste buds indulged in a feast.  I dipped my fingers into the freshly made chutneys-enjoying their sweet taste combined with the savory popodoms.  We broke out into chatter about the day's events and how delicious our food was.  We proposed a toast with locally brewed beer and apple juice made in the Wye Valley, before tucking into a peanut butter and dark chocolate cake. The last piece saved, for Barney's partner as an apology for using up the last of the peanut butter! 

When our food comes from an honest and ethical place, I think there's no better taste.  The concept of slow food, like slow living, is a movement which is educating the world for the better.  Knowledge is power as they say.  I am really thankful to those who want to invite the world to try another way. It's not easy breaking away from traditions and cultural habits but for the sake of our future, change is welcomed on my plate. 

Note: this is a sponsored post. I received this delicious meal whilst glamping at Hidden Valley Yurts. All 'mmms' were my own. 

You can find more at:

www.hiddenvalleyyurts.co.uk

www.infamouscateing.co.uk

A Gur (Yurt) has been a distinctive part of nomadic living, especially to Central Asia for at least three thousand years.  Perhaps one of the most famous men in history, Genghis Khan, was known for describing a number of significant events related to Yurts.

These large round spaces were designed to be easily moved. They were simple in design yet sophisticated in the build.  A yurt is made out of wooden and felt structures and would have provided spaces for cooking, cleaning and a communal area for an entire family away from the harsh elements outside.  Tradition meant that the western side was considered the male dwelling whilst on the eastern side, women would work and live. Despite this cultural divide, they would have all shared the heat from a wood burning stove, with a long-reaching chimney.

Recently, I was lucky enough to stay at Hidden Valley Yurts, based in a quiet valley consisting of 80 acres of land in South Wales.     There were 5 original Mongolian yurts, each hand painted by just one person! The attention to detail was fascinating. I adored the original features such as a Mongolian bed (dubbed the princess bed by younger guests) and my oh so comfortable dwelling for the week. 

Each morning, the light-flooded in by a skylight, a natural prompt to explore the new day. The opening also allowed the burner's smoke to escape. It was probably one of my most favourite features. There’s something calming about being woken up by the sun and guided off to sleep by the moon. My body felt in sync with the natural rhythms of Mother Nature.

The gentle curves of our yurt’s space encouraged us to all sit together and talk until the small hours of the morning, whilst sharing the warm glow from the fire. With no TV, limited phone signal and any other modern-day distractions. It was a chance to just switch off, be in the moment and get back to basics with our natural surroundings and fellow humans.

Something we all need a bit more of and often.

I feel that our modern homes with man-made materials, dividing walls and doors seem to cut us off entirely from the natural world, and can disconnect us with those only next door.  I'm thankful that Yurts like these are still around to enjoy and help to give us a fresh perspective on just how important communities have been and always will be.

Disclaimer: this is a sponsored post. Whilst I haven't been paid to write this post, I was asked to stay at Hidden Valley yurts in return for my honest views. 

For glamping in the Wye Valley visit: www.hiddenvalleyyurts.co.uk

*This will be my last microadventure style post to celebrate my completion of walking 1000 miles in 2017.

It seemed such a perfect few days to have snow up in the welsh hills. Timely in fact for December although, it was our second covering of the year, only this time much thicker. 

It reminded me of when I was a small child, my cousins and I would use bin bags as sledges
and use the banks of the woodlands to whoosh down, only to be taken out by a root, or a tree! 

On the first morning, I woke early, there's was an intense glow above my curtains. There had been no tractor sounds or from passing cars.   Something was different.  The anticipation of peaking behind the curtains was a little too much for me, and instead, I dragged them back to expose a shocking white mass of the ol' white stuff.

 "It's snowing!" The household was awake then... 

My pup was out of the door before me.  Over the next 4 days, we enjoyed sledging,  hill walks, and snowman building.   Oh, and there was a case of a lost and never to be found glove of mine, from a late-night,  escapaedeinto the village to collect supplies (mince pies).

The roads were constantly blanketed, and although the tractors and gritters did their
best to clear it away each night more fell from the sky.

There's something quietly deafening about snow.  You can hear a pin drop. There are no echoes in the valley,  and each crunchy footstep I took got louder and louder and I found myself tiptoeing, hoping not to disturb the jittery Robbins or resting sheep!

Oh how the local communities came together.  And despite what you hear nowadays about the world becoming a frightening place, I know that it's not true.  Offers of food pickups and dropoffs from the 4x4 owners for the elderly don't seem to sell many newspapers... 

 The roads in the small villages were filled with people rather than cars, all snowball fighting, chatting, laughing, and enjoying what nature had to offer us in abundance.One morning, we woke to the most azure blue sky one, could ever ask for - my home looked exactly like it does on those winter travel brochures!   

Now in January, the hills are back to their earthy green palette except in the parts where the sun doesn't reach, remains fragments of that ol' white stuff I love so much.  The rivers are up high threatening to flood like they do each year, and the sludge was thick and not at all pleasing to the eyes. The trees no longer carry their icicle decorations and the snowflakes have turned into rain.  And the winds, how she howls....  

I feel utterly blessed  I got to finish off my 1000 mile challenge at home in the snow. My walking adventures have taken me to some amazing locations but there really is no place like home. 

Scotland is home to some of the most beautiful bodies of water in the United Kingdom.  Loch is Scottish Gaelic for Lake or Fjord. During my stay in Scotland, I had the privilege of walking alongside and camping on the shoreline of Loch Lomond.   Loch Lomond is one of 12 largest lochs in Scotland,  and it took me 2 days of walking the West Highland Way to get past it!

So far my, walk 1000 mile challenge has treated me to 750 miles of incredible beauty but I wasn’t expecting just how stunning and surreal Loch Lomond to be.

On a clear morning, the loch appeared glass- like reflecting smooth skies and tree covered hills. Later on, in the sunny afternoon, the winds picked up, causing the water to caress the shoreline, brushing against the pebbles and amplifying a ‘whooshing’ sound. As the evening arrived, a mist rose over the loch and only now and then would you catch a ripple from a fish swimming on the surface, reminding you, the loch’s still there.  

Ladies and gents, from the top of Conic Hill.  

After a long day of walking from Drymen to Rowardennan,  the woodlands open to a welcomed sight  -  Sallochy campsite where we could pitch our tents, rest our feet and tuck into some much-needed foods. Camping at Sollochy on the shoreline of Loch Lomond is tricky, you’ve to pick your spot carefully.  The ground was concrete in places and the small sections of loose gravel, ideal for tent pegs, were challenging to find in fading light. The now gentle lapping loch beckons you to dip your sore feet (flip-flops recommended), offering a few moments of icy relief.  I watched the red evening sky promise that tomorrow would be dry and sunny (and so it was!).  The pitch black night was soon here and so on went the head torches whilst we sipped our hot tea,  hoping that the clouds would pass so we could see the forecasted shooting stars.   We didn’t but we were treated to a few twinkles in the night sky and I imagined just how spectacular a starry sky here would be.

I went to sleep with an image of this lone tree in  my mind's eye. 

The next morning after breakfast, we continued the walk to Inverarnan. The terrain grew tougher and treacherous in parts but still the banks of Loch Lomond, now misty, kept me on the straight and narrow, as I scrambled around the cliff which was covered in trees, roots, sharp stones, ledges and waterfall crossings.   In the distance, I could hear small boats offering tourists,   history filled trips and on more than a few occasions, I wished they’d come and pick me up, so I too could enjoy the view from afar instead of being amongst it, struggling with my now sore foot and a heavy back-pack.

Beauty like this mustn't be taken for granted or overlooked,  and although I didn’t complete my entire journey due to injury,  I feel so fortunate to have witnessed one of the many amazing lochs in this magnificent country.