Learning to Love my Wounds
It’s easy to be self-critical and see the marks of the passage of time on our body as faults, but there is a lesson in self-love to be learned from the beauty of mature trees.
It’s easy to be self-critical and see the marks of the passage of time on our body as faults, but there is a lesson in self-love to be learned from the beauty of mature trees.
'You can be miserable anywhere, so GET OUTSIDE!' I took some good advice from a friend on a miserable day and my garden took care of the rest.
Recovery is a frustrating business with lots of twists and turns. Today a bumblebee helped me to navigate a corner.
When dark wet days and miserable headlines engulf you in worries about the future, nature has a knack of catching your attention and providing some perspective.
The recovery ‘journey’ may be a cliché, but there are few better ways of understanding the ups and downs, the twists and turns, involved in finding one’s way back to full health. The journey is a hard one, but sometimes the most difficult part is not looking too far ahead, learning to focus on the path under your feet and to find companions to share the highs and lows along the way.
Every journey to recovery has its setbacks, unbearable times of slipping backwards when it's hard to keep faith and hope alive.
A weekly walk in the woods brings a welcome respite, perspective and calm in a crazy world.
Against apocalyptic headlines, my garden is a refuge and source of perspective and solace.
In uncertain times a garden can be a source of food security as well as emotional well-being.
In the depths of winter, when the ground is sodden and the wind howls, or when illness keeps you in dark places, there is always the garden of the imagination to explore.
What is life without the hope that you can flourish despite the hardness of life?
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