On the surface, it would appear we are a changed society. Supposedly more aware than ever of our impact on the environment, our media habits also suggest that we’re interested enough to spend our spare time immersing ourselves in the natural world. Planet Earth II amassed 12.26 million views (or 40.9% of the television viewing public) for its first episode in 2016, a vast increase from the previous record of 9.72 million views of Frozen Planet in 2011. Sir David Attenborough urged: “It’s surely our responsibility to do everything within our power to create a planet that provides a home not just for us, but for all life on Earth.” He’s right, of course, but although the message was heartfelt, it does not, as Rebecca Broad points out in issue 2 of New Nature Magazine, “do everything within its power to encourage a home for all life on our planet.”

It’s not the first time this style of programme has been criticised: in his controversial article for The Guardian, Martin Hughes-Games suggests “these programmes are still made as if this worldwide mass extinction is simply not happening”. Nature’s appearance and ability to survive is, according to Hughes-Games, portrayed with rose-tinted glasses. And since we are able to see nature on our screens – often zooming microscopically, slowing down time to observe the intricacies we would never normally see – we no longer find the need to explore it ourselves, and realise that it's still in danger of collapse. Nature becomes an alien concept, something we remain distinct from, as we voyeuristically consume it in any form other than reality.

In its manifesto, The Dark Mountain Project (a network of writers, artists and thinkers who have "stopped believing the stories civilisation tells itself") notes that “the very fact that we have a word for ‘nature’ is evidence that we do not regard ourselves as part of it,” and this seems to be the crux of the problem. Our tendency – and I am by no means immune to this – is to see nature as something to inhabit, to conquer, to observe, to comment on. It’s rare that we see it as a part of our very being, as something that is embedded in our daily actions and thoughts without question, and with the media disassociation that takes place so frequently, it's not altogether surprising.

If, as the founders of Dark Mountain suggest, we are undergoing an ecocide (and for my part I’m convinced we are), then in destroying life on earth, in destroying nature, we are destroying ourselves. In our attempts to prevent this destruction, to replace fossil fuels with wind-power and solar panels for example, we are aiming to save industrial civilisation, rather than the environment. Though I don’t believe switching to these eco-alternatives is a negative thing – they enable health, education, sanitation; concepts that undoubtedly are achievements of the modern world - it’s both interesting and essential to consider how we’ve managed to develop a civilisation so inherently disconnected from the world around us.

Avoiding a descent into hopelessness, Satish Kumar suggests a solution: “We are members of one Earth community and need a new trinity that is holistic and inclusive, that embraces the entire planet and all species upon it. So I propose a new trinity of soil, soul, society.” In order to reconnect with nature in a way that allows us to be a part of it, we must first respect it and what it offers, taking time and care to be in nature, noting its changes and its powers, as well as its ability to join our society together.

He ends: “If we can have a holistic view of soil, soul and society, if we can understand the interdependence of all living beings, and understand that all living creatures – from trees to worms to humans – depend on each other, then we can live in harmony with ourselves, with other people and with nature.”

To reconnect nature and civilisation is to change our perception of the ‘outside’ world. Let’s remove this concept of the unknown, the alien, the ‘other’, and truly become one with the earth.

The pure physicality of cold, biting air upon the skin; the crisp lines and textures of bare branches and skeletal leaves folded in upon themselves; the build up of condensation upon the moustache hairs of one’s beard; the quiet, haunting beauty of a natural world, dormant, and yet silently alive underground and behind the scenes... 

There’s no doubting that winter is a season of breathtaking beauty; one that offers solace, silence and respite to those who venture out of doors to brave something raw and truly elemental; to those who seek its truth and conversation.  But for the commuting classes of countryside aficionados, winter can also be a season that curtails, that cages.

Winter is the harbinger of darkness - of short days and long nights - a time in which I feel removed from the natural world; a time in which I struggle to fulfil my deeply-engrained passion for it. 

A time of pure longing for the light that lengthens the days and frees me to embrace the outdoors and experience it in its fullness once more.

A period of dark mornings walking to the station, where waiting trains ferry a silent mass of humans, invisible in the stillness of the dark, to sprawling concrete jungles, only to participate in the noise and cacophony of human endeavour, before returning silently back to waiting houses that shroud, hide and envelop.

For the commuter, winter is a cruel cage.

And this also, is why February is seized upon with such open-hearted embrace.  The slow, ebbing of darkness is pounced upon; the darkness becomes slowly less black, before a further transition of velvety hues takes place.  And slowly, stoically, the mornings suddenly embrace a small crack of light breaking over the tops of the hills, stood silent and proud in the distance.  Shapes take on new, refreshed meaning and purpose; vigour and vitality enter not only the landscape, but the eyes of the morning commuter, to whom the natural world is suddenly opening up once again, like petals unfurling upon a new flower.

And, all of a sudden, the morning walk of the commuter becomes alive once again.  I embrace the visual feast before me; the very simplicity of seeing the birds in the branches once again; connecting the incessant cheeps of the proud blackbird to the singer performing it.

And all of a sudden, just like that, I pass a clump of snowdrops next to an old tree stump.

The thin, delicate stems are painted from the most vivid hues of green, delicately poised with hanging opal drops of purest white, their beauty exacerbated by the clinging droplets of morning dew, offset with the crisp, silent flakes of frost upon the surrounding blades of grass.

I stand for a few seconds and drink the scene in, my hungry, commuter-starved eyes consuming the sight vociferously and with real relish.  Here, right outside my house, is a sight that signals not only the onset of spring, but a symbol of vision and connection with the natural world once again.  While my weekdays may still be spent commuting and working in a city, the mornings and evenings are slowly presenting themselves to me once again, and the humble snowdrops herald the arrival of lighter days and seasons that can be embraced out of hours.

The pale white snowdrops are the key that unlock the cage of winter.

It's a concept we talk about a lot here at Creative Countryside, and living seasonally is integral to what we post and when. As you're already here reading, chances are you've got some idea what it's all about, and you might already strive to live in this way, allowing your choices to be guided by the rhythm of nature. If so, you're in the right place: the e-book is intended to go hand-in-hand with your lifestyle.

We hope that it will provide the impetus you might need to get outdoors on days when it isn't easy to find the time or inclination to do so. We'd also like to inspire you to try new recipes, new crafts, and celebrate ancient traditions in a way that can slip easily into your current routine. But most of all, we hope that it will join together our growing community with ideas that we can all aspire to achieve.

Inside the book you'll find four sections - one for each of the seasons - and within each section we've included:

• a seasonal to-do list
• advice on what foods are in season, plus what recipes to try
• a handy checklist for seasonal produce
• seasonal festivals and how you could celebrate
• crafts you could try inspired by the natural world.

We've also included an overview of seasonal living, plus some helpful hints on how to get started. To receive all of this, simply sign up to join our free community below. You'll also receive monthly(ish) emails filled with seasonal inspiration, news from our community, and be the first to hear about the magazine and its launch later this year.

Can't wait to welcome you!

P.S. Once you've read the book, we'd love it if you shared with us how you live by the seasons, because this is just the start (not everything can be fit into 36 pages!), and we know there are so many of you out there with ideas worth sharing. Just hit reply to the email, or get in touch here.

Today I'm delighted to introduce the first in a series of seasonal posts by Cheryl, a writer and advocate of simple living currently living with her family in a beautiful Romanian village. For more, head over to her blog and inspiring website.

Once upon a time, in a far-away land, there was a little village surrounded by orchards and fields dotted with ochre haystacks, full of women and men meaningfully wandering through the fenceless landscape, carrying handwoven baskets on their backs in the sun, in the rain and in the snow.

And this winter, in our fairy-tale village of Breb, Romania, this real place on Earth which our family calls home, the recent cold and snowy months have been dreamlike, in the most frozen and wintry sense.

Temperatures have dipped to -20°C for nights on end, pipes have frozen and flowing water has turned the streets into thick glaciers, providing entertainment for the young sledgers who race downhill, screaming with laughter at high speed all the way. But to walk on such ice, to visit a neighbour, or go downhill to the village shop is a matter of slipping, sliding and by some skillful act of balance – not falling down.

Here, the cold comes with simple beauty. The ice flowers that grow overnight, present themselves in the morning light. The foothills are covered with white, glistening magic. The smell of burning fir and alder fills the air as the smoke billows from small chimneys attached to wooden homes. As we step outside, we inhale life and death as we become part of this ethereal landscape. The smoke is a reminder of the trees that are harvested in the foothills of the Gutâi Mountains, the very thing that keeps us warm and alive.

In winter, it seems that wood is harvested every day, felled by chainsaws and brought down from the hills by horse and sleigh, the exception being Sunday when no work is allowed. I put another log on the fire with hope deep in my heart that come warmer weather, in another season, I will see seedlings being planted on these very hills, for if they were to be thinned to the point of lace work, what would these traditional wooden houses be born of instead? Concrete and bits of styrofoam hopefully will not overtake this romantic existence, but like the loss of craftsmanship, only time will tell.

In a place where looms outnumber the weavers, we can brazenly dream that the old ways will not be lost in favour of greed…

So, as we deeply slumber under heavy, handmade woollen blankets, woven from the fibres of the Țurcana sheep, we dare consider the reverie of spring – trees filled with flowers in the billions, and of birds chirping their sweet songs. Adventure awaits higher up the forested hills, near the peat bogs of Morărenilor Lake, on the Creasta Cocoșului (Rooster’s Crest) and in walking barefoot among gentle blades of green while foraging for all that disappears in winter.

To live simply among the seasons has never been so enchanting, or so full of mirth.

Today's article comes from the inspiring Leo Babauta, founder of Zen Habits and advocate of simple living.

When my grandparents were young, none of the appliances (let alone hi-tech gadgets) in our homes were in common use — not the refrigerator, electric stove, dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, toaster, television, computer, air-conditioner, microwave, etc.

None of it. They had cars, but they walked far more often than we do today. They had telephones, but not cell phones or Blackberries or iPhones, and they weren’t using phones all the time. They had stores, but they didn’t order things online and they didn’t buy all the time. In fact, during their Great Depression childhood, they bought very little and used very, very little technology.

And while the last 70-80 years have advanced our lives in amazing ways, and there’s no doubt that the comfort and convenience of our lives have improved tremendously … we rarely stop to consider whether technology and consumerism have always changed our lives for the better.

I mean, I am as big a proponent of the miracles of the Internet as anyone, but have we given up too much of our lives that used to exist offline and outdoors? It’s great that we have such comfortable cars that can drive incredibly fast and take us anywhere we want to go in minutes … but have we thrown away the joy and the health benefits of walking places?

It’s great that we can communicate instantly from anywhere with our mobile devices, but have we given up personal face-to-face conversations and the pleasure of being outdoors, disconnected from the world?

It’s great that food is so convenient these days, but have we given up the pleasures of slow eating for fast food, the joys of cooking for microwaving, the wonders of real food for processed food?

It’s great that we can buy pretty much anything we want these days (and often do), but have we allowed the abundance of cash we’ve had (until recently, but even now we’re still pretty rich) to force us to have bigger houses just to store all our stuff?

I propose a life of less. A life that’s more sustainable.

And yes, some will wonder if that will hurt the economy even more — buying and consuming less will mean people will lose jobs, no? Not necessarily. Scaling back our lives means we need to find jobs for people that are based not on producing more goods, but on producing more value — valuable information, valuable inventions that require fewer resources, valuable contributions to the community. But how will all of this be paid for if no one is buying stuff? There will be less wealth produced because less is being consumed … but if we consume less then we actually need less wealth. We just need to get off the escalating cycle of consuming and producing more.

We work more than ever before, despite advances in labor-saving technology that mean we should be able to work less. We do so to support a lifestyle that has become more expensive than ever, because of the new levels of convenience and abundant consumer goods that we’ve become accustomed to. We can break out of this trap, by consuming less and then needing to work less.

I’ve thought these things for awhile now, but it struck me most as I was walking to a meeting with a friend and business partner. Most people where I live don’t walk — cars are used all the time, even if the destination is just a few blocks away. I’ve been getting into the habit of walking places — for traveling, not exercise — but I’m a weirdo for doing so. And it struck me that only 50 years ago, I would have been normal — everyone walked back then.

And I wondered how we lost this valuable activity — walking to get places.

We lost it because convenience and speed have become more valuable to us than health and frugality and the enjoyment of the world around us.

I propose a life of less. A life that is more leisurely, a little more spartan, a little less expensive, a little less heavy on consuming the Earth’s resources.

I don’t think we can change the economy overnight. We can’t even change our lives overnight. But we can make a gradual change in that direction, with small steps.

Here are but a few ideas — I’m sure you could contribute some of your own:

• Can we walk to more places and drive less? We’d get fitter and use less fossil fuel. We’d have to loosen up our schedules to do this, but I think that’s a good change anyway.
• Can we start building more livable communities, where things are less spread out, so that we can walk more instead of driving everywhere? Where everything we need is a 10-20 minute walk away, or at least reachable by bike or public transportation? You might already live in a place like that, but not where I live, and not in lots of places. Even work should be close by. Again, this is a long-term change, but I think a good one.
• Can we start living in smaller houses, so that we need less heating and cooling and land and maintenance and cleaning? We can if we buy less stuff, which leads to …
• Can we start buying less stuff? We don’t need all the stuff we buy.
• Can we start celebrating things like birthdays and Christmas without spending sprees? We could do nice things for each other instead, or make things, or bake something.
• Can we start buying locally more? I know a lot of people already do this, but it would be great if this trend continued. It supports local farmers and drastically reduces the amount of resources needed to get food to our homes.
• Can we start packaging food less? Even non-food items (like toys) come with ridiculous amounts of packaging these days. I’d like to see a return to olden ways, when you scooped flour out of a huge bin into a container or something like that. Packaging we throw away (or even recycle) is so wasteful.
• Can we stop buying so much processed food? Real food is so much healthier, requires fewer chemicals and resources, and tastes better once you wean yourself from the addiction to processed foods.
• Can we eat slower, and enjoy the food more, instead of rushing through meals?
• Can we stop our addiction to mobile devices and being connected all the time, so that we can enjoy the pleasure of other people’s company without interruptions, or enjoy solitude or a nice quiet walk without being connected?
• Can we design cities and towns so that they aren’t based on the automobile, so that perhaps private vehicles parked at the outside of cities, and then people used public transportation or walked within the cities? We’d reclaim the streets for the pedestrian, make them alive once again with street markets, cafes, parks, children running around without fear of death, people exercising and doing tai chi and jogging and walking and enjoying a fume-free outdoors.

Again, these are just a few ideas. There are thousands more.

And I’m not saying we should give up technology. I love connecting with people from around the world! I love being able to access information instantly that I would never have had access to just 15-20 years ago! I love the ability to express myself online that is unprecedented in human history!

But I also think we need to keep the good things that have come with the advances in technology, and throw out the bad, the things that have made our lives worse.
—
Read more about simplifying your life in Leo's book, The Power of Less.

Today we're thrilled to feature a small, creative business that takes its inspiration from the natural world. Jess at Wold Couture designs the most beautiful wedding dresses and accessories, drawing on her local environment to inspire and motivate her creative process. Over to her...

The dress that launched Wold Couture: initially inspired by the dawn chorus, it later came to be known as the Cobweb Dress.

Wold Couture began in essence when I lived and worked in London, but it only truly came into its own when I moved back to the Lincolnshire Wolds - where I spent most of my childhood - and became inspired by the surrounding beauty once more.

Though I designed and made bridal-wear in London, the business itself was launched from one dress inspired by the dew-covered cobwebs I saw as I walked through the Wolds. This dress still features in the bridal collections today, and is, I believe, testament to the power and longevity of natural patterns and design.

Our style overall is quite romantic and incorporates some vintage twists as well as lots of delicate decoration influenced by nature. Both decoration and silhouette are inspired in part by what I find outdoors - flowers, clouds, the shapes of trees - but I find the best ideas come when you’re not looking for them. On a weekend walk to somewhere new, in the bath, whilst travelling – sometimes a design comes fully formed into my mind and I’m not entirely sure how it got there.

Dresses inspired by (left) stratus clouds, (top right) alto-stratus clouds and (bottom right) trailing roses.

The design is just one part though, and what comes next is much more work. To take this idea and turn it into a fully formed and functioning dress certainly takes an alarming amount of coffee, very little sleep and plenty of arguments with the sewing machine. I design and make in my workshop in a sea of fabric and by the time I am done I need another week just to find the floor again. Luckily, the view from my window out onto the fields ensures a constant supply of inspiration, particularly because the view changes not only seasonally, but throughout each day too. Early evening is the most beautiful time to look out, and I can watch the sunset and cloud formations across the vast expanse of the Lincolnshire skyline - it's wonderful!

Currently, I'm working on a few exciting projects. First is a look-book for two of my favourite dresses that I'll send to potential stockists - it's been great fun scouting locations to shoot the dresses, whether in an urban environment to contrast with the design, or out in the countryside near home.

Alongside this we are also finishing up a new accessories range which will soon be available online. As the business is so intertwined with where its located, I think it's so important to keep connected in as many ways as possible. Recently I started tutoring at a local gallery (click here to find out more) - the courses cover everything from upcycling to hand embroidery, and are a great way to chat about ideas, share my passion with fellow creatives, and get more involved in the local community. Finally(!), I'm also studying myself - I'm halfway through a masters degree in fashion with hopes to launch a collection of sustainable ‘slow’ fashion sometime next year.

Wold Couture has always been about bespoke design, but over the next few months we'll be focusing more on the collections, which will enable me to do more of what I love: designing.  If all goes to plan we hope to be employing a small team of seamstresses to work on both bridal and fashion collections in order to maintain our 'Made in England' brand. I can't wait.

Thanks Jess - sustainable 'slow' fashion sounds just up our street!

If your creative business takes inspiration from the natural world, and you'd like to be featured in a similar post on Creative Countryside, get in touch by emailing contact@creativecountryside.com. There is no payment involved; we just like to showcase creative talent whenever we can!

Usually celebrated on February 2nd (or the eve of February 1st), Imbolc (pronounced 'im'olk') is one of the four Celtic fire festivals that make up the wheel of the year, and celebrates the passing of winter and the return of spring. It comes at a time when many of us are longing for the end of cold, dark days, and serves as a reminder that brighter mornings and new growth are on the horizon.

As Imbolc is also St Brigid's Day, celebrations of this Celtic fertility goddess are also held to signify her transformation from the crone of winter to the maiden of spring, and often take the form of lighting candles, fires, and celebrating the sunlight. Appropriately, snowdrops are one of her symbols, and form as a further reminder that the bleakness of winter is waning.

The day is also a great opportunity to reassess any goals you set yourself back at the start of January, as the start of spring we plant the seeds that will grow and nourish us for the rest of the year. Spring-clean whatever you want to be rid of (both literally and metaphorically) and set forth on a new journey of optimism and hope. You could also plant some actual seeds to symbolise the promise of this new season.

Head over here for more ideas on how to celebrate the festival.

Today we have some exciting news, and some new faces to introduce! After a short search for our new online editors, I'm thrilled to announce that we've selected four talented creatives, who will be appearing regularly in the journal and helping to build our community. If you're not already familiar with their work, let me introduce these lovely ladies...
 

Stories Editor: Kayte from Simple and Season

Kayte was one of the first writers to get in touch about writing for the magazine, and two of her pieces will be featured in issue 1. Blogging about simple pleasures, seasonal foods and her explorations in the countryside, her tagline pretty much sums everything up - 'Making the most of our time on Earth, in time with the Earth.' - oh, and her Instagram feed is a wonder.
 

Nature Editor: Sarah from Mitenska and Frond & Feather

I've been a fan of Sarah's nostalgic prose and beautiful photographs for some time, so I was delighted when she applied for the position. Her design work inspired by nature at Frond & Feather will be featured in issue 1 of the magazine, as will her writing,  Describing herself as a 'naturalist' she regularly posts about savouring life's little moments with her family in the Pennines, where she lives surrounded by moorland, woodland and fields.
 

Folklore Editor: Sarah from The Salty Sea Blog

Sarah's photography is magical, ethereal, and evokes tales of Celtic folklore - not surprising when you learn she lives in Cornwall, and recently studied both writing and photography. Her lyrical musings will also be featured in issue 1, and she'll be cropping up in the journal with tales of mystery and wild ramblings. If you're based down south, you should definitely bookmark her photography website too.
 

Adventure Editor: Chelsea from Loving Life in Wellies

Chelsea is all about adventures and country living in Wales. She writes about hiking, camping, kayaking and getting out of your comfort zone, and this year aims to walk 1,000 miles (she's already a tenth of the way there!). Her piece on embracing the outdoors in winter will be featured in issue 2, but in the mean time you can catch her in the journal, encouraging us all to get outside and embrace adventure.
 

Choosing our new editors was an exciting process, but it was also a difficult one. Thankfully, we've also been able to take on some other new writers to contribute to the journal on a more sporadic basis, so keep an eye out for lots of new and inspiring posts!

Though not necessarily classed as 'nature writing', these six books take inspiration from the natural world in different and captivating ways. If you can carve out a little time in your busy day, reading a few pages is always a pleasure, so pick one and get started!

1. If (like me) you're about to start a family, Common Ground, by Rob Cowen, will definitely appeal. It weaves the story of a father expecting his first child with exploration of a small strip of land on the edge of a town. Unobtrusive and lifeless though it may appear, this wasteland provides the backdrop for a journey through the local landscape, with lyrical investigations of plants, animals, insects and humans.
    
2. I've long admired the writing of Sara Maitland, and the magical Gossip from the Forest: The Tangled Roots of our Forests and Fairytales certainly doesn't disappoint. She argues that forests are twofold, both beautiful and terrifying, and that it is this combination that creates the backdrop to fairytales. Filled with re-imaginings and seasonal wanderings, it is a book of many guises that celebrates these ancient and primal landscapes, and muses on their significance.
    
3. If I were to choose books simply by their covers, Holloway, a collaboration between Robert Macfarlane, Stanley Donwood and Dan Richards, would be top of the list. This short book explores a landscape of shadows, spectres and great strangeness, and coupled with ghostly illustrations, provides the perfect way to spend half an hour or so.
    
4. Travel back fifty years to the Scottish Highlands, and you'll reach the moment Katharine Stewart moved with her family to A Croft in the Hills. This powerful memoir evokes nostalgia for a lost era, but also highlights the hardships many would have experienced. Expect bitter Scottish winters, the trials of looking after livestock, and the simple pleasures of a back-to-basics lifestyle.
    
5. A little different from my usual style, Findings, by Kathleen Jamie, is a curation of moments plucked straight from the author's travels. It doesn't follow a narrative as such, but instead opts for short prose essays on topics such as peregrines, the winter solstice and the carcass of a whale. A totally different approach that is nevertheless intriguing and, at times, surprising.
    
6. If you don't even have time for the half an hour it takes to read Holloway, try John Lewis-Stempel's The Wood in Winter. Published by Candlestick Press as an alternative to sending a card, this pamphlet follows a nature walk into a wood in midwinter, tying in old festivals and traditions, and reminding us of our own deep connection to the earth.

Reading books inspired by the outdoors is an easy way to reconnect with the natural world. Check out last week's post - Nature & Culture: Finding a Common Ground - if you'd like more tips on how to achieve this in other ways.

Celebrating trees and woods. Image courtesy of Common Ground.

Nature and culture are often viewed as two distinct concepts. Nature is wild, it is 'out there' rather than 'in here', and sometimes it feels as though you have to make the choice to immerse yourself in the natural world. Yet it is a part of our culture, and of our everyday lives: it is the tiny green shoots emerging between the pavement cracks, the droplets of rain on the end of our nose, the crow perched on the tallest branch of the tree on the corner, creaking a sombre tune.

If we remind ourselves that nature is not just conservation and climate change, it can often be surprising how many opportunities we have to immerse ourselves in its restorative powers, allowing it to influence our lives and choices, and therefore our culture. The arts and environmental charity Common Ground aims to remind us of just that.

Projects both old and new mark a return to that 'age-old intertwining of human life and the natural world', and range from creating community orchards, to celebrating local customs, or 'distinctiveness'. Their intention is 'to connect people with their local environment through music, art exhibitions, film-making, publishing, community gatherings and education, creating the inspiration and some of the tools that can help communities make meaningful, long-lasting connections with their home ground.'

Rules for Local Distinctiveness. Image courtesy of Common Ground,

Reading this reminds me of all of the things Creative Countryside is aiming to achieve, and of the ethos that the magazine will adopt. So intertwined are our goals, that you can read all about one of the oldest Common Ground projects - Apple Day - in the first issue (September 2017). But as we transition into spring, perhaps one of the most pertinent and engaging resources from the organisation is last year's edition of LEAF! (the newspaper for trees, woods and people) which features green men, nest building and seasonal food, and can be downloaded from this page. 

Of course, there are many more projects you can get involved with, but if you're not quite ready for that yet, I'll leave you with a few ways that you can reconnect with nature and your local environment this season:

• support local initiatives by attending events and gatherings (how about heading along to your local Wildlife Trust event?)

• stick up for local trees and woods by joining (or starting!) your nearest Tree Charter Branch

• get inspired by watching rare and unseen footage of local festivals, village life and lost crafts

• read nature-inspired poetry or books (come back next week for a list of recommendations, or sign up to our newsletter for seasonal suggestions).

It's easier than you think to connect your life and culture to the natural world, so what are you waiting for?

Most of us exist and thrive under the illusion that we need to do more, to be more, and are always be looking for ways to become bigger and better. If we're not constantly searching for the next promotion, a bigger house, more money, it feels as though we're not following the right path. Simply being happy and satisfied with our current lot, and valuing relationships, craft and the environment over all else, is definitely not the norm.

Often, the realisation hits that this ongoing desire for more only increases our stress levels and leaves us burnt out. Our health and wellbeing suffer, as we work harder, work longer hours and continue to make sacrifices - whether consciously or not. But this realisation doesn't necessarily mean anything will change. In her Guardian article, Madeleine Bunting argues that "Small is beautiful is the cry of the romantic idealist, and there seem to be none left": she appears to be right.

Modern society dictates that bigger and better is the norm. If we're going to be able to afford our own home and go on holiday and just exist comfortably, there's no other option than to keep aiming for this: there is no apparent alternative, because we cannot exist without money (although this man definitely tried), so we must make more to achieve our goals.

But what if we changed the goalposts? What if instead of having to go big or go home, we could change what we wanted from life, and as a result, reduce the necessity to be reliant on more? I'm not suggesting that we give up on becoming homeowners, or never do anything spontaneous or exciting, but that changing our small goals, our stepping stones if you like, could be the key to still achieving what we want, without spending all of our time grinding through life. There are always sacrifices to be made, but it's our choice what these sacrifices are. The question that must guide us through life's choices is not how much more do I need? but what is important to me here?

Let's say you wanted to reduce the number of hours you work a week, so that you can spend more time with your family, because relationships are what you've decided are important to you. This goes against the grain, because you're actually aiming for small rather than big, and often working part-time (or anything less than a 40-hour week really) is viewed with derision, but why shouldn't we want more time for ourselves and our loved ones? The only problem arises when you realise that you can't afford to reduce the number of hours you work. So you have to make a sacrifice.

Your options are:

1. Sacrifice your time (and possibly wellbeing) and stay in the same position you are now.

2. Sacrifice something else, by making something else smaller in your life. Perhaps it could be the amount you spend on food, or the number of times you drive when you could walk? It could be something more impactful, like downsizing your home (the Tiny House Movement is thriving!), or giving it up entirely. Your 'sacrifice' needn't be all that terrible: look on it as an adventure, an opportunity.

If you want something badly enough, there will be a way to achieve it, and it doesn't necessarily require a bigger investment. To work less, aim for less. To escape the cycle, change what you're aiming for in life. It's not easy, it won't happen overnight, and you'll still have to work hard. But surely, in our world of conglomerates, of billion pound deals, and of ever-expanding commercialism, a small, simple life that separates itself from these things, and values all living beings over pounds and pence, is worth striving for?

At the start of a new year, resolutions are flying around all over the place, decorations are shed, and it's back to reality. For most, that means a much busier lifestyle, with more complications and demands on our time, so it seems quite apt today to be focusing on living a slower, simpler existence, and how setting goals with this in mind can help to ease the transition.

The crux of slow living lies in knowing what you want and what’s important to you. How do we know what we’re slowing down for if we haven’t decided what’s important?

So let’s get started.

First, list the 3 most important things that you want to prioritise in your life. These should be things that you might not feel you have time for, or that have fallen by the wayside as your life has slowly got more and more chaotic. Why 3? It’s both achievable and allows us to push the boundaries of what we really want. Try to limit it to 3, and if you’ve got more ideas you can follow the same process later once you’ve worked through the steps to prioritise them in your life.

You’ve now got a basic grounding, but in order to set goals we need to transform these priorities into something more specific. For example, instead of just writing “family,” change it to “visit my parents at least once a week.” We’re using the idea of SMART targets here – Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, Timely.

Obviously you’re not going to be able to fit anything new in during the times you currently have to spend at work, in appointments etc. So you’ll need to figure out when your best day / time of the day is in order to squeeze in your goals. Somethings that can mean getting up a little earlier, or cutting out that extra hour spent browsing social media, but prioritising your important things means living a happier and more fulfilling life.

Here's the important bit...

Once you’ve scheduled them in, try including them one at a time. The problem with resolutions is that we're expected to include all of them immediately, and no one has the time or mind-space for that.  You might succeed for the first week, or even the second, but then something will slip and the first thing you’ll lose and forget about is what you’ve most recently implemented. Try one goal at a time (and ideally focus on this one goal for a whole month) and you’ll be developing a ritual rather than just a standing entry in your diary or planner.

There's been a lot written on this blog about slow living, so if you're feeling inspired, here's a few more ideas to get you started on your slow living journey:

• An Introduction to Slow Living
• A Slow Approach to the Online World
• Slow Food: The Importance of Celebration
• Essential Tools for Slow Living