Nicola: I’d love for you to start by telling us about yourself, your business and what drew you to the work you do?

Nicky: Thanks Nicola.  My name is Nicky Barfoot.  I’m a knitwear and embroidery kit designer, and a knitting workshop tutor, living in the UK. I have been a compulsive maker all my life.  I blame it on my amazing, talented Mum and Nanna who taught me to knit when I was very young.  It was their sneaky way to keep an active child entertained when the weather was too bad to play outside. I had the best dressed Teddy Bear and Tiny Teddy’s (I was a child of the 1970s) in my street.

I was a teenager in the 1980s when fashion became flamboyant. Knitwear was big, colourful and adventurous.  I would buy copies of Vogue Knitting magazine and try to recreate the patterns. Unable to afford the recommended yarn, I’d use anything in the house that could be cut up and strung together.  Think sheets, string and assortments of left over yarn knotted together. My sister and her friends described me as having my own unique fashion style!

I didn't start to view my creativity as a potential business until quite recently.  One Christmas I decided I needed a challenge.  I wasn't competing as seriously in sport and I needed a new focus.  I enrolled in a City and Guilds qualification in Hand Knit Design.  But I found this qualification challenging.  Not so much from the creative point of view, but the implication that there were right and wrong ways to do things.  This was news to me as I had been making it up as I had gone along for over 30 years! 

I stuck it out and finished it.  What I learned during the course has come in handy from a teaching point of view, for my knitting workshops.  But it also showed me that I don't enjoy following the rules.  I wanted to use my knitting skills in a freer way.   The local college was starting a new Foundation Degree in Stitched Textiles.  Thinking that art might be the answer I enrolled, having no idea what to expect, and no formal training.  I loved every moment of it!

While studying I also rediscovered my childhood love of drawing, printing and painting.  Through a recommendation from a friend I happened upon West Dean College.  This is an amazing place of art and craft study, based in the middle of the UK's beautiful South Downs.  Over two years I completed their Foundation Diploma in Art and Design.

Inspired by all my study I entered the UK Knitted Textile Awards in 2013.  I was delighted to win Silver with a series of knitted pictures based on life drawing studies.  In 2014 I moved onto my current four legged muses, as well as three-dimensional knitted dog head sculptures based on the art of taxidermy.  I wanted to explore whether knitted objects could be viewed as sculpture, rather than a soft toy.  I was thrilled that these won the Gold award in that year's UK Knitted Textile Awards.

I began to realise that many people loved my ideas.  But rather than buying a finished item the most common question was 'do you sell the pattern'?  I started to make my designs available as accessible patterns and kits.  I opened an Easy shop.  I had many of my knitting patterns published in national magazines.  I began to teach knitting workshops.  Recently DMC Creative has approached me, and I’m going to be working with them to create four embroidery kit designs for their collection. 

Tell us about the process of your work and where you draw your inspiration?

All my designs begin as drawings. Sometimes these are specific ideas that have popped into my head in a light bulb moment.  Most often ideas evolve from my daily sketchbook practice.  I try to get up early enough in the morning to spend 30 minutes or more drawing something, anything (!) before my day begins. Often the drawings remain in my sketchbook.  But sometimes an idea evolves as I am working on it and will then form the start of a design process for stitch.

I also keep a hand written “journal” of ideas. A Moleskine book that goes into my handbag.  I bring it out and write down any thoughts that happen while I sitting in coffee shops or on public transport etc.

What story do you want your work to tell?  And what do you love most about what you do?

The main aim of my work is to delight. I want to provide my customers with a design that is accessible and enjoyable to make. And that brings a smile to their face as the characters appear. Over the years I have become more interested in the slow meditation of hand making, than in any finished item.  In this high speed, high tech world I hope to share some of this simple focus with others. Humour is also very important to me.  My designs are often illustrative, inviting a narrative and a chuckle from the viewer.

Animals are obviously your muse.  You and I both have a love of dogs in common.  And you know your dog is one of my favourite Instagram pups.  Can you tell us what it is you love most about our four-legged friends, and what your beautiful dog has taught you most about life?

Aww thank you! (although I won’t tell her as she has a big enough head already and can be a bit of a Diva). We were brought up with pets in our house as children. There were rabbits, gerbils, Springer Spaniels, ponies (not in the house I hasten to add), a lizard and a few budgies. This love of animals, and particularly dogs, has stayed with me in adult hood. I currently have a 10-year young Weimaraner called Sas, and a 13-year old Jack Russell called Nelly. Sas is my second Weim.  They are photogenic dogs and make brilliant models. I think it's the strange mixture of disdain and clown that they are so good at projecting. A beautiful, noble looking dog that will let you dress them in a wig and sunglasses. What’s not to like?

While Nelly has anxiety issues Sas is quite the opposite. This despite us being her second home when her first one didn’t work out. I have learnt so much from spending time with my big beige best friend and observing how she approaches life. She is enthusiastic about everything, including sleeping, and embraces every opportunity. Equally she isn’t averse to taking herself off to the garden.  She is happy to lie in the warm grass and watch the bees buzzing and listen to the birds. The only thing that causes her any stress is the hour leading up to dinner in case we forget! She has no concept of embarrassment or of “can’t win won’t play”. We don't always see eye to eye but she doesn’t hold a grudge.  She always greets me like my arrival is the best thing to have happened to her that day (even if I was only gone for 30mins). If you want to learn how to not sweat the small stuff, and how to appreciate what matters, I recommend spending time with a Weimadog.

Being active is also important to you and I know you love running in nature.  Why is it so important to you to stay active and healthy?  And how does this help you in your everyday life and work?

I have always needed daily fresh air and if I don’t get outside for a run it makes me miserable (just ask my husband!). This is one of the reasons behind my choice of dog breed, as Weims make the best training partner a girl could ask for. When I run with Sas I make the effort to go off road.  I’m lucky to live near country parks and wooded enclosures.  And I’m also within a short drive of the New Forest and the south coast of England. I find that being immersed in the simplicity of nature is good for the soul. When we are constantly bombarded with bad news stories, we need to remind ourselves how amazing our world is. Nature does this for me.

While working from home definitely has its benefits it also has its downsides. One I’ve found is an inability to switch off when there is no clear distinction between work and home space. Getting outside for a run helps provide this separation for me.  Even if it’s only for an hour.  It gives me permission to switch off from work so I can enjoy the moment.  I can hear the birds, smell the air, feel the breeze (or rain) on my skin, and enjoy the scenery without interruption.

I also find that most of my best creative ideas come to me when I’m out running. These can be light bulb moments if I have a specific problem to solve.  Or wider inspiration from the natural colour schemes and structures I see.  And not to forget some of the doggy social interactions we become part of. I often come home with a phone full of photos.  These either end up as a drawing somewhere in my sketchbook, or posted on Instagram.

If one of our readers were interested in taking up a hobby like knitting or embroidery, where would you suggest they start?

There are lots of brilliant online classes available these days.  I've used Craftsy and Creativebug, and would recommend them as a starting point.  There are also lots of free tutorials and blogs available, especially for knitting.  As well as a good selection of magazines. 

While these are great places to start, nothing beats actual classes with a tutor.  They can see what you are doing and offer hints, tips and advice on how to improve.  I have a lovely group of regulars who come to my monthly knitting workshops.  They often remark on how much they learn from each other, as well as from me.  Which is another added benefit. 

No matter how someone chooses to start, the most important thing is to practice. Learning a new skill takes time and making mistakes is an essential part of this process. I would also recommend using the best materials you can afford. Often when people start out they have a low expectation of the outcome, so spend as little as possible. But I think it's important the process is enjoyable, even if you aren't going to be creating a masterpiece.  Lovely yarns and materials make the experience of creating rewarding.  Even if the scarf is wonky, or has holes in it, if it feels lovely around your neck then chances are you will still wear it.  So all those hours of learning and making are not wasted!

More about my work can be found on my blog, nickybarfoot.wordpress.com and on my Facebook page. I love taking photographs and regularly post pictures that excite and inspire me (and lots of pictures of Sas) on Instagram as @nickybarfoot. My kits and pattern downloads can be purchased from my Etsy shop.

Much as I prefer to wander through the fields and woods and wild places at this time of year savouring these early days of autumn, I’m the first to admit that I do appreciate a good herbaceous border. Indeed, I also appreciate the very relaxing Friday night routine that is a cosy corner, a cup of tea and the latest Gardener’s World.

So of course, I sit and I watch Monty Don as he deadheads the dahlias and shows us the late summer delights of the ‘Jewel garden’, all rich oil pastel hues and dense emerald foliage beneath. Sunflowers (my favourites are the rust and chocolate brown shades), rudbeckia, crocosmia, heleniums… Gone are the tasteful pale pinks and baby blues of May and June. Now the garden puts on its last spectacle of the year in fiery oranges, deep clarets, saffron yellows and velvety purples.

These flowers are ‘painterly’; they remind me of oriental art and country house wallpapers, of painted china, Agatha Christie and the Bloomsbury set. Glamorous and decadent in both form and colour.

Of course, many of these flowers have been grown in cottage gardens for generations, mixed in with the fruit and vegetables. My great aunt in Poland used to have an abundance of crimson-and-white striped dahlias growing in profusion amongst the potatoes and onions. Lilies too, all clashing together – tasteful colour combinations were not much of a priority in hard-working, productive plots. And yet there’s always something aesthetically pleasing about a jumble of mismatched dahlia stems, displayed together in an old jug on the kitchen table.

The one painterly flower I’m a little bit snobbish about is the chrysanthemum. Back when I worked as a florist (a short-lived amble off my career track but memorable nonetheless), chrysanthemums were seen as an inexpensive ‘filler’ flower. Nobody bought entire bunches of them. There were, of course, the more expensive single stems, the ‘spider’ and ‘shamrock’ varieties which added a touch of the exotic. I can still smell the pungent leaves, crushed underfoot as we stripped back the stems to make hand-tied bouquets. For me, the one chrysanthemum I find hard to resist is the old-fashioned ‘bloom’ type: big, spherical, densely-petalled heads which look like they belong on a kimono. Bronze ones in particular (I’m incredibly – excuse the pun - picky about yellow flowers). Bloom chrysanths, in my book at least, have to be bronze.

So: Yes to autumnal forest floors and purple heather moors. Apple and pear orchards, sloe-studded hedgerows. But there’s something very lovely about a brightly coloured allotment or public garden at this time of year too. It’s like seeing a firework display: short-lived but spectacular.

I’m fortunate to have once visited the RHS Harlow Carr garden at this time of year. But I’ve also seen some truly lovely late summer displays in city parks and in local plots too. Even a trip to the garden centre to admire the colours and get some inspiration is well worthwhile before these painterly flowers go over, summer takes its last breath and autumn is well and truly upon us.

It's finally (and officially) here. One of the four Solar Festivals, Mabon marks the move into autumn according to the Wheel of the Year. An equinox is technically an astronomical point, and as such the precise date can alter each year, though the autumn equinox typically falls between September 21st - 24th. The date represents a moment of equilibrium, as the day and night are of equal duration, and as such the concept of balance is key.  We are in the middle of harvest, and it is a time to finalise late summer tasks before moving forward into the colder months. 

In her book Sacred Earth Celebrations, Glennie Kindred suggests the following ways of celebrating the festival:

• Plan to get out and about and experience the Equinox on the day whatever the weather.

• Gather with friends and family for a bring-and-share feast. Ask everyone to bring food and drink that reflects the season. Decorate the tables with vases of flowers, fruit, nuts and autumn leaves. Light candles with a dedication and thanks for the harvest of the year.

• Thanksgiving and balance are the twin themes of the Autumn Equinox. Seek to take the harvest you have gained in the outer world and integrate it with the turning within, to help bring clarity to the way ahead as the season changes from autumn to winter.

• Have some baskets of yarns, seeds, shells, string, sticks, fir cones, feathers, dried grasses, dried flowers, ribbons, threads, needles, scissors. Ask everyone to bring something and then sit together, weave, thread, bind, create something that reflects the abundance of the moment. It may be a necklace to wear, a headdress, an autumn posy to hang up, a special wand or totem. As you make it, think positively about what you are harvesting and how you can use this for your greater good and the greater good of the Earth.

• Reflect on the gains and losses of the year. Give thanks for the outer expansion and what has been possible. Look at what is no longer needed, and what it is time to let go of with thanks and blessings, as you release the past.

• Share with each other the seeds of your harvest that you take with you into the next cycle. Count your blessings. Celebrate your abundance.

• Plant some native bulbs or tree seeds in pots to place outside. Plant your own inner seeds with them. Focus on your hopes, ideas, and intentions for the spring and your allegiance to the Earth. Plant some of the fruit, nuts, seeds and berries you have gathered for the Autumn Equinox, label them, leave them outside without saucers underneath, and see what comes up in the spring.

Double sycamore seed pendant, £85

18ct gold budded twig and diamond ring, £2200

Slim oak leaf ring, silver, £75

Lucy's love of the British countryside started as a child, her pockets often filled with seed heads and feathers. Her love of the natural world and collecting has continued, her woodland finds are now displayed in her Oxfordshire studio, hanging from the walls and stored in old science jars.

Lucy believes you cannot compete with the beauty of nature, its perfect lines and textures, so uses it as directly as possible. Taking moulds from her delicate finds, she casts into the cavity they leave, allowing her to create exact replicas of life in solid silver and gold that retain the finest details.

"These natural forms with beautiful textures would decay into the ground and be gone forever, with direct casting from them I've created something that will now be here forever, to be worn for a life time."

Lucy's newest work concentrates on engagement rings and wedding bands, simple lines from cow parsley stems, rye grass, lichen, leaves, twigs and seed heads wrap around to create rings, the fragile veins and stems clearly visible as the designs overlap to create a collection of fine botanical wedding jewellery, all cast from British countryside plants with a scattering of diamonds.

The Great British stag beetle, bees and hawk moths have all been given a new life in solid silver and gold by the nature loving jeweller, her Hawk moth ring was chosen by costume designer Michele Clapton to be worn by Sansa Stark in the hit medieval TV series Game of Thrones.

Since completing her MA at The School of Jewellery in Birmingham, Lucy has exhibited her work around the world, been published in many books and magazines, and most recently exhibited at London's prestigious Chelsea Flower Show.

"My work is evolving all the time, as the seasons change, the inspiration is new once more."

www.lucysylvester.com

As rosemary is for the spirit, so lavender is to the soul

-Anonymous

From the ancient Egyptians filling tombs with its heady perfume to the Arabs, Greeks and Romans utilising its medicinal qualities, lavender has long since been a part of nature’s rich medicine cabinet.  Traded all along the spice route in centuries gone by, its oils and flowers made their way across Europe to monastery gardens, the courts of kings and queens and everyday folk to scent bed linen and ward away evil spirits.  Used during the Plague for its antibacterial properties to guard against the spread of infection, throughout history, lavender has been the ‘go-to’ herb for stimulating and calming, uplifting and relaxing, to cure ills and heal burns, to aid insomnia and even alleviate depression.  Its magical properties never fail to amaze me.  Steeped in folklore, it was used to summon the faerie folk on Midsummer’s Eve.  It has even played its part when it comes to love.  It is said that Cleopatra herself used lavender as part of her charms to seduce both Mark Anthony and Julius Caesar.  A herb of both love and strength, it was believed to drive away lurking demons but perhaps my favourite lavender tale of all, is the story of young maidens using it to remain chaste, carrying sprigs about their person to guard against unwanted advances. 

Nowadays its purpose is far less spiritual perhaps but no less powerful – sewn into scented bags and tucked in wardrobes to deter moths and flies, to soothe in hot baths or to aid restful sleep as a pillow spray.  I’ve lost count too of the numbers of recipes I’ve come across where lavender has been used to flavour cakes, jam or ice cream – a small amount working its magic on ordinary ingredients.  Lavender remains one of the most recognisable and prolifically grown herbs in gardens large and small. 

Moving to a derelict farmhouse a few months ago, we were staggered to uncover amongst knee high grass and overgrown weeds that we had a whole field of it planted in the garden behind the house.  Slowly but surely as we weeded and strimmed, the beauty of rows upon rows of this seemingly commonplace garden herb became more and more apparent.  As June approached, the field bloomed with a gradual tonal sea of deep purple and blue hues.  To be honest, it felt like we had moved to Provence, not rural Hampshire.  Harvest time arrived and each sprig was cut by hand, bunched and hung to dry in the shed.  Hours of breathing its heady perfume as we picked rendering us like dandelion clocks floating in the breeze.  I am not sure we have ever slept so well.  Wreaths and wands were made.  Even now, jars of dried lavender await their turn to be transformed into pillows and bath salts ready for winter’s dark evenings.  Memories of our first summer here, brushing my hand across the lavender as I followed my girls racing down the rows on their way back to the house, will stay with me forever.

With the house a veritable wreck, lavender has indeed soothed the soul when lack of running water, no heating and a leaky roof have made for hard days living on a building site with a young family.  So as we bid farewell to the last of the summer’s sun and sink into autumn’s embrace, waiting for next year’s blooms to grace the field once more with their purple perfumed spires, it seems the perfect time to remind myself to stop and daydream awhile as I sip a soothing cup of lavender tea and allow its warmth to wash over me.  Maybe its healing powers really do contain magic after all...?

Try harvesting the last of any lavender in the garden to make your own tea.  Push the flowers up from the base of each spike and allow to dry in a cool dark place before placing in a jar to preserve its perfume.  Boil a kettle of fresh water and add a heaped teaspoon of lavender flowers to your pot.  Pour the water over the flowers and allow to steep for a few minutes.  Add honey to taste if desired.  Lavender tea can be used to aid digestion, as a tonic for headaches or just for those days when you feel a little world weary.  It makes an ideal blend with dried camomile flowers as a sleep inducing tisane.

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Rebecca Fletcher is a writer attempting to transform herself from self-confessed townie to country bumpkin. Follow her journey here.

Nicola: You describe yourself as a photographer, filmmaker and wanderer who lives for her wax jacket and wellies.  Can you tell us more about the work you do and how it all came into being?

Nina: I’ve always been a very visually creative person. All my family work with their hands, in some kind of expressive way, so it’s only natural I have this need to create too.  

I remember pouring over the faces from the frames in my grandparent’s house as a child.  I would wonder who they were.  Standing still, with little emotion on your face, gives nothing away about a person or their actual life.  Which is where my passion for pictures developed. 

As a child I dabbled with cameras, but it wasn’t until I met my husband in my early twenties that I started exploring more. I remember we blew a whole months food allowance on a top of the market Canon.  We lived off beans on toast until the next pay cheque came in. In my mid thirties I had my third (and last) child, and it was then I decided to start a blog. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.  I wanted to fill my days as a stay at home mother, and connect with other creative people.  I soon realised I was better at taking pictures, than writing and connecting with others. 

I’m more of a listener then a chatty person.  I'm known as the ‘shy photographer’, which is handy when you want to go along in life unnoticed. You can capture the most joyous and emotional moments when people least expect it. Pulling the true feelings out of a person and immortalizing it on film. Not staged or styled, just honest. 

I know nature, creativity and the comforts of home are really important to you.  Can you tell us how you incorporate each of these into your daily life and why they mean so much to you?

Nature has always played a huge part in my life. I would sit for hours when my friends were off chasing the boys, observing my surroundings. I take more pleasure in watching a butterfly, or listening to a blackbird sing, than gushing over fashion. Or gossiping about some irrelevant scandal. I can’t remember where this part of me stems from; it’s always been there. Wherever I live I always make sure I have a space to create, an environment I can escape to. No matter how small or lack of budget. Just an area where I can bring nature to me.  Even if it’s a lone bumblebee. A place to think and clear some of the noise out of my head. It’s where I get most of my creative ideas. I spend a lot of time in my garden. It’s the perfect place for me to ponder.

I also love to sew and have a fascination with American quilts. In my late twenties I took a course on how to piece together, and ended up staying on for another five years.  My grandmother was an amazing embroiderer. I didn’t find this out until she died and was left some of her work. I’ve always wondered if I take after her in this respect. There is something soothing about the rhythmic process of stitching each piece together to create a story or pattern. I tend to save quilting for winter on the coldest of evenings.  I snuggle under the quilts with my girls and listen to them read me their latest story, or chat about how their day has been.

Home is really important to me. My childhood was quite chaotic.  I’m from a family where you were made to pull your weight and muck in. Being the eldest with three younger siblings it was full on. Which is why, whenever I had the time, I would withdraw into my head, go climb a tree or build a den and hide for a while. As a mum I want my children to discover the world, but know that home is where they can escape to.  We also have an open door policy where all are welcome.  There is always plenty of tea and biscuits and a good old chat if needed. Our home is busy, but in a good and positive way.

I also spend an enormous amount of time at home.  It’s my workspace and the place I am a mother, so it has to feel comfortable and be welcoming. I want a home to feel like it wraps you up and embraces you.  Filled with love, laughter, chocolate cake and hugs.

You live in a small village in the Cheshire, on the edge of the Peak District.  What lead you and your family to settle here?  And I’m curious what a day living in this little village looks like when you’re at home?

We’ve lived in Cheshire for over three years now. It was a snap decision to move, and one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do. We’d lived on the Kentish coast for seventeen years. We raised our children there and loved the beach life.  But my husband was offered a job and we knew if we didn’t give it a go, we would always wonder ‘what if'?  Within six weeks we had found a house, schools for the children, sold our family home and moved almost 300 miles. I then spent the next two years making sure everyone was settled and happy. It wasn’t easy, looking back on those first few months, but now I would say it was the best decision we ever made.

On an average day we start at 6.30am, and one by one leave for our various work places or school. My time should consist of school runs, housework and shopping.  But I'm a daydreamer.  So as long as there is food in the house and clean clothes, I prefer to spend my days gardening, baking and taking photos.  My youngest knows if I suggest walking to school it really means, 'I'm going to head to the hills for a few hours with a thermos of tea and my camera'.  But we do love the walk to school past all the tiny mill worker cottages.  We chat along the way, spotting various bugs and birds.  Her latest obsession is buzzards. We have a few of those swooping around these hills.

Our village is small with a canal running through it and an old railway route that you can now walk or bike along. We are surrounded by hills and valleys.  The huge mill buildings now have other uses, like office buildings, cafes and gyms. Although there is at least one I know of that has almost tumbled down. It’s quite ominous, looming out of the landscape. The village is very friendly and local.  There are butchers and bakers that have served the community for generations.

You also write for ‘This Is Your Kingdom’, an online guide for planning high days and holidays around the UK.  Does this work allow you to travel?  And what’s your favourite part of the job?

I love working for This Is Your Kingdom and feel so honoured to be part of the team. It gives me the freedom and opportunity to explore to my hearts content. And being new to the area, I have a lot to discover. I can travel as much or as little as I desire, which allows me to be the person I want to be. For me family is everything and they will always come first. I feel so grateful to be able to work in this way.

The best part of the job is tricky to answer, as I love it all. From finding new places to write about and capturing the imagination of it on film.  To then submitting an article and seeing it all come together. I also love reading about the places others have found and forming a collection I would then love to go find.

And lastly, I’d love to know what is your favourite subject to photograph and why?

They say never work with children or animals, but for me I love faces.

This is my favourite subject to photograph, as you never know which emotion you will capture. It all goes back to those stiff, blank faces in the frames. I’m a people watcher and I love a good story. A face to me can tell a million of those, and much, much more.

You can find Nina on Instagram @nina_nixon or visit her website here.

There’s honey and then there’s honey. Even if you already choose honey that is produced in the UK, it’s not all the same, and if you want to get the nutritional benefits of this natural product you should choose your jar with a few points in mind.  Most of the honey in the supermarket is heated and filtered repeatedly to prolong its shelf life, so many of the natural properties are lost in these processes.  Beekeepers' honey is more likely to be unheated or raw. So look at the jar label for descriptions like ‘raw’, ‘unpasteurised’ and ‘minimally filtered’ to be sure you're choosing honey with health benefits like tiny grains of pollen and propolis included.

Secondly, a lot of honey in the shops is blended and not of single origin. Some local beekeepers mix all their honey together in a huge tank before opening the tap and filling their jars. There are two things to work out from the label if you can: time of year and where the honey comes from, so information like 'early summer honey', or 'borage honey’ or the address of the beekeeper are reasonably good indicators that the honey comes from hives in a particular place rather than from all over.

Lastly you just need to look at the honey through the glass jar. It should be clear not cloudy and it should move like a thick syrup. Heather honey is different, this one is more like a jelly so it won’t move much. If you have not tried it before you may not like the woody, slightly bitter taste to start with, but it will grow on you. In general, don’t worry about the colour too much; it varies according to the flowers the bees have visited, for example wildflower honey can have earthy orange tones whilst borage honey is the colour of cucumber water. Usually light coloured honey is mild and floral whilst dark honey has a more pronounced flavour. Try one of each and find out which you prefer.

Autumn is a great time to buy honey as the main harvest has just been collected.  Most small scale beekeepers like myself sell out by Christmas. If you use quite a bit of honey or want to buy jars for gifting, it is worth searching out a local beekeeper by contacting the British Beekeepers Association for the contact details of your local branch and you will get information about honey shows and the outlets beekeepers use in your area. If you’re shopping at a farmers’ market, farm shop or deli, study the label and hold the jar up to the light. And if you come across cut comb honey, it’s a real prize, a guaranteed natural product. It comes in little blocks roughly 4 by 2 inches cut by the beekeeper straight from the hive.

Hope you enjoy your pot of honey.

Next time, I’ll share one to two of my favourite raw honey recipes with you.
 

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Francey Bunn keeps bees on the slopes of Bredon Hill in Worcestershire. Find her on Instagram @tea_and_wildflowers.

Today Head Chef at Colwall Park Hotel shares his foraging tips and a simple hawthorn berry jelly recipe. Don't forget you can win a 1 night stay for 2 (including dinner and breakfast) at the hotel if you select our Seasonal Package for the magazine crowdfunding campaign (which has already reached its first target!). You'll also receive a recycled check blanket, organic apple and cinnamon tea, organic dark chocolate, and a copy of the magazine (but be quick - the campaign ends on Wednesday 6th!).

Foraging is exciting and very rewarding but can be very dangerous if done without doing your research. I am still a novice but find information through books and websites like foragedfoods.co.uk.

There is great produce to be found and don’t forget it’s free!

During the coming months I will be looking for produce in the local fields, hedgerows and not forgetting the Malvern Hills, bring the bounty back to Colwall adding some culinary twists and creating some flavoursome dishes.

As the nights are shorter nature’s larder becomes less bountiful but there is produce out there.

Hawthorn Berries

Hawthorn berries are best picked when they are most ripe, which usually means any time from now until the beginning of November. Hawthorns are dense and, unsurprisingly, thorny. The berries are red and fairly similar to rosehips in appearance. Foraging the berries can be time consuming as they often bring with them lots of stem when picked which need to be removed; however, the rewards can be delectable.

Simple Hawthorn Berry Jelly

• Pick 700g of hawthorn berries.
• Remove the stalks and wash, then drain.
• Put the berries into a saucepan, cover with 850ml of water.
• Bring to the boil and simmer for 1 hour then mash up the berries.
• Strain the mixture overnight using a muslin cloth - this will keep the jelly clear, but do not squeeze just let the juice drip.
• For every 550ml of juice you measure out you will need 450g of sugar.
• Squeeze the juice of 1 lemon.
• Mix the sugar and lemon juice into a saucepan along with the hawthorn juice. Bring the mixture to the boil, stirring continuously until the sugar has dissolved.
• Now rapid boil for 10 minutes until the jelly has reached setting point. The setting point is normally around 105 degrees, you can carefully spoon a little mix onto a cool plate, leave for a moment then push with your finger to see if it crinkles or is set.
• Skim off any foam from the top of the liquid, and pour into sterilised, warm jars and screw on the lids.

Tip: This jelly goes great with cheese!

We’re approaching the time of year when, for centuries, farmers have harvested crops before the weather turns. At the end of summer we celebrate the abundance and the safe gathering-in of foodstuffs for both people and animals. Produce is stored ready to be used during the lean months; we make preserves in the form of chutney and jam. Fruits, herbs and vegetables are dried, canned and pickled. Meat and fish are smoked and cured.

In these modern times few of us are truly self-sufficient or even approaching that. We have neither the means (outdoor space) nor the time to grow, tend, harvest, preserve and store. Few of us have a cellar, larder or pantry where we can keep large amounts of food. And there is little need. The vast majority of us live in, or near, towns and cities with ready access to supermarkets and independent food shops.

And yet there’s something about gathering in which appeals. It could be a bit of light foraging, a dabble in jam-making. Because opportunities for this type of resourceful pursuit present themselves throughout the year. Seville oranges make a brief appearance during January and February, so a rainy afternoon marmalade-making session is the best way to take advantage of their fleeting season. Early summer brings elderflowers – and bottling the syrup means we can enjoy a taste of summer months after the leaves have fallen.

So, what’s the appeal? Perhaps it’s part of the modern-day yearning to get back to simpler ways of living. Of being closer to nature and returning to living in accordance with the seasons. An almost primal desire to slow down, retract from the myriad of food choices we’re presented with all year round. Strawberries in December, green beans flown in from across the globe. It’s as though all these things have become workaday, no longer special.

Walking past that patch of blackberries every weekend, stopping to check whether they’re ripening. To consider how much sunshine they’re getting. Estimating when they might be ready to pick. Thinking utilising them in various cakes and pies and crumbles and planning to keep a few empty jars aside. This makes food exciting: the anticipation, the rarity value. The we-only-get-this-once-a-year feeling.

The actual gathering-in fulfils some deep instinctive need, too. The knowledge that you’ve collected what you need and in good time. You haven’t missed your chance. It’s similar to getting the washing in off the line just as the rain starts to fall. A sense of achievement, no matter how tiny.

I love to read about how people live seasonally and harvest and preserve. There’s something comforting about the whole idea of late summer and early autumn gathering-in. It’s beautifully described in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series, where pumpkins, nuts and cheeses were kept in the attic and neighbours would swap produce with one another and celebrate the seasons.

Over the next few months we’ll have some wonderful seasonal foods to go out and find: damsons, brambles, crab apples, the final wild strawberries and raspberries, elderberries, hazels and sloes. And for the more knowledgeable forager: fungi (wildfooduk.com has a great list of edible mushrooms, but always take an expert along with you).

Gathering in isn’t just about food. There are seeds to be collected from the garden and kept in readiness for planting and propagating. In late summer and early autumn I cut dried allium heads, honesty, teasels and hydrangeas to display in the house. Sunflowers too; I almost prefer them when their heads are full of dark seeds and the petals dried and papery.

So go ahead and pick, harvest, collect. Whether it’s a bilberry-picking trip on the moors or simply filling a paper bag with foxglove or poppy seeds, there are few things more simple – and satisfying – than gathering what’s ripe and making good use of it.

In the depths of a frozen winter, horse-pulled sleighs or the more modern (one could argue: outdated) tractors and trailers, brought down loads of harvested trees from the surrounding snow-drenched woodlands. In two seasons temperatures rose from -15 ˚C during the night to more than +30 during the day, adding an extra layer of heat to our kitchen which is fuelled with a wood stove. Yet, the uncomfortably hot nights will soon return to layers of heavy blankets, just as the light of day will turn into long hours of darkness and dinners lit by hand-dipped beeswax candles.

The seasons march merrily along.

As much as we would like to proclaim that “summer is fun!” (perhaps the local schoolkids would like to say this as well), it is really a time of preparing for winter, and there is plenty of work for all ages and all abilities. Young children help their parents and grandparents out in the fields too, from sunup to sundown work is a family affair.

One season leads into another, and as quickly - or slowly - as the work is done, the next is ready to begin.

There is no summer break, there is only Sunday to provide a day of rest for weary backs and tired hands. Minimal work is allowed on this day - feeding the animals, milking the family’s one, two or three cows, and harvesting some fresh vegetables from the garden. Many dress up in their traditional Sunday best and wander down to the center of the village, while others choose the glass bottles and kinship at the bar over the altar at the church, and some locals opt for visiting family and friends because even in a small village where everybody knows everyone and many people are related by some act of fate or another, the land and the animals always take precedence.

Summer is as it has always been - the phase to prepare for winter.

Animals need to eat and stay clean in the stable, and hay is on the menu year-round. If there is an art to creating a beautiful and functional haystack, the people of Maramureș have perfected it and called it their own. With some haystacks reaching 4-5 meters in hight, it is usually the woman’s honour to stand atop whilst it is being built, being in control of packing the hay densely and forming the stack so that it can withstand rain, wind and snow or whatever nature throws at it.

Just how many hours go into creating a haystack? It greatly depends on the amount of active family members, whether the grass is scythed by hand or machine, and if it is the first, second or even third cut of the year. It’s idyllic to see the many haystacks dotting the landscape, but the unseen downside is the overabundance of hay, at the same time having fewer and fewer animals every year to eat it. The labour is that of love, and if it were not done the landscape would be seen as unclean, unkept, or wild.

In village life, there is a constant desire for balance set upon the eagerness to keep busy, if there is no work to be done, then work will be made.

Consumerism is not rampant here, yet many people have more than they need, and not everything that they want. With little money people are modest, yet extremely giving and generous in nature and their vast orchards and enormous gardens keep them busy, satisfied and fulfilled.

Breb is a fascinating place where giving and sharing is prevalent. Here you can buy (or often receive for free) bacon and potatoes from your neighbour or the little lady down the lane rather than shopping at the store and at this very moment eggs are in short supply because of the hot weather, yet the milk is always on tap in any stable, available at the morning or evening milking.

Nights are quiet, save for the random wild boar running down the gravel road, and the air is fresh and clean. Nature, fruit and hay are in ultimate abundance and now is the time to stockpile our winter supply.

Today's creatives are Rosie and Oscar who live on a farm in the Adelaide Hills...

Nicola: I’d love for you to start by telling us about yourselves, your business and what drew you to the work you do?

Rosie: Of course! My name is Rosie Winter.  My husband Oscar and I live on a small farm where we grow flowers, fruit, herbs and vegetables. We share this land with my parents who live in the old farmhouse.

We decided to move here and build our own home after we found buying our 'own' land was going to be difficult.  It would have meant a large mortgage, and both us working more than full time off the land to meet repayments. 

We thought about moving from Adelaide Hills, to where land is more affordable.  But with two small children we wanted to stay near family.  So in the end we moved onto the four acres that belong to my parents.  And started the process of building our own home here, whilst living in a converted shed on the property. 

At first we felt like it wasn’t an ideal arrangement, as it wasn’t land that belonged to us or was really ours.  We struggled with the day-to-day practicalities of being more then tenants, but not owners either.

But with time we’ve come to realise the value of sharing land and resources.  As well as having people around to help each other out!  We've noticed a similar trend with other people near us.  Land sharing and starting micro farms is becoming more common.  It's a great way for communities to make farming and agriculture a viable possibility. 

We were drawn to this work as we both love working with the land, nature and the seasons.  We also have an affinity for plants and animals. Farming wasn’t something either of us considered a real job or pathway at all, though.  It wasn't the way we were schooled.  Farming was associated with poverty and hardship, it was not a career option. So it never even crossed our mind that it could be something we could actually do! We both had different careers for a while.  I was a midwife and Oscar a chef and cheese maker.

After we moved on to the land we began growing a lot more of our own food and flowers.  The year I was on maternity leave I decided to try cutting, arranging and selling the flowers at our local cafe, the Piccadilly Kitchen.  The customers loved them, and I sold out on my very first day. After realising people loved what we did, we decided to explore doing it beyond a side hobby.

Can you tell us about the little patch of land you have in the Adelaide Hills?  

The property is in the Piccadilly Valley.  It is surrounded by vineyards and overlooks the market gardens in nearby Uraidla.

We grow vegetables for our own table.  Potatoes and kale in winter.  Tomatoes, zucchini and basil in summer.  Sometimes when we have excess we’ll add a few veggies to our market stall. Or they make it into our bouquets (flowering basil, cherry tomatoes, purple bean vines and radish seedpods are particular favourites!). We also turn the extra produce into preserves for the colder months.

We also have a small orchard with apples, pears, plums, figs, quince and fejoa trees.  Nearby there are canes of raspberry. It isn’t a large enough orchard to yield commercial quantities of fruit.  But we do make jam, quince and plum paste for our market stall.

We cultivate a very small amount of land with annual cut flowers.  Around a quarter to half an acre, depending on the time of year.  This means we are able to manage our business with a closed-loop system.  We dig, plant, tend, harvest and arrange the flowers.  We then compost the leftover flowers and return them to the soil for the next cycle.  It's a beautiful, sustainable pattern.  We enjoy watching our blooms go from tiny seedlings to starring in a bridal bouquet, and then back to the earth. 

Some of our favourite flowers to grow are dahlias, sweet peas and Icelandic poppies.  We also love strawflowers, ranunculus and wild cottage garden flowers.  South African flowers also grow well here (proteas, pincushion flowers and leucodendrons).  What don’t seem to grow well are peonies, tulips, lupins and fritillaries.  It might be because it doesn't stay cool enough.  So they definitely present more of a challenge!  We still grow them each season though.  And with time we hope they will settle and happily bloom. 

There is also an eclectic assortment of perennial herb gardens and trees for foliage.  Herbs, vines, leaves, berries and seedpods make up a significant part of what we create.  Plants like yarrow, sage and viburnum.  Also hops, blackberries, medlar pears, spirea, jasmine, ivy berries and native grasses.  These are very special and spirited elements.  They bring a sense of seasonality to our arrangements. 

We do a lot of experimentation with different foliage and pods. There are new elements to be discovered each season.  We try to focus beyond what is an obvious choice.  And look to different leaves or plants we may not have thought of using before. Sometimes the results aren’t great! Other times our experiments lead to amazing new materials to work with.

Your flowers are absolutely beautiful.   What inspires the designs you produce and who are they for?

Thank you so much!  We are lucky to receive our inspiration by what the seasons gift us each cycle.  We are given lush, green growth and delicate petals in the spring.  Stunning blooms in the summer.  Fruit and russet coloured leaves in the autumn.  And seedpods, evergreens and brave flowering bulbs in the winter. 

We have also been invited by people in our area to gather flowers and foliage from their large gardens.  It's been magical caring for overgrown trees and bushes, and to then see the leaves and flowers they give us back. 

Our work is also influenced by traditional folk art, herbalism, stories and illustrations.  Especially artists like Alice and Martin Provensen, Wendy Watson and Phoebe Wahl. We like to evoke a sense of warmth in our work.  We want it to reflect the land around us, as well as the seasons.  While at the same time weaving in a bit of magic and whimsy too.

Most of the clients we work with have a certain mood or place they want reflected in the flowers we create for them.  Such as a bouquet that reflects the wild Australian bush for an outdoor forest wedding.  Or windswept white and nude toned blooms, with twigs and seedpods, for an autumn beach wedding.  We love to work with people who share our love for nature. 

The people that buy from us at the markets share that same love for plants and the seasons.  And enjoy bringing a small piece of nature home with them.  Flowers help us anchor into that feeling of connectedness with nature.  Having this connection is so important.  People crave and need this closeness to nature, but there is a big disconnect in so many aspects of our lives.  Our work helps bring people back to this relationship.  And we hope that it adds to the richness and depth of this connection.

What does an average day look like for you at the moment?  

Our flower week begins on a Thursday, picking fresh flowers for weddings and our market stall.  In the summer one of us wakes early to harvest the flowers, and get them into the cool room before the day heats up.  The other will get the kids dressed and make them breakfast.  During winter our harvest days can start later.  This is because the days stay cool enough for the flowers to remain in good condition.  Later in the day we gather the more hardy foliage.  We also condition and prepare the flowers, and store everything ready for the next day.

Over the next few days we sort and arrange the flowers for weddings, events or our market stall.  We then pack and deliver to the wedding venues.  And on Sundays we work at our stall at the Market Shed on Holland.  The rest of the week we tend the garden.  This includes weeding, planting, mulching, watering and feeding the plants. 

Between all this we like to find time for dreaming, conversation and reading.  As well as letting our minds drift away while watching a great television series!

You are also in the midst of building a home naturally with earth and straw.  What inspired you to create your dream home from these materials?

When we decided to land share with my parents, we wanted to have our own cottage or studio for our family to live in.  We appreciated the benefits of living close to family.  But it was important to also have our own autonomy and identity as the Winter family. 

As we began to live a more seasonal and sustainable life we started to get an idea of what type of home would suit us.  As well as the things we needed to consider in the design and construction.  And we definitely wanted a home that was connected to our work outside. 

Things we considered included energy efficiency, passive solar design and grey water recycling.  We also thought about the embodied energy of building materials.  And we wanted a feeling of flow from the garden to the kitchen.  We also both had a shared childhood love and fascination with old cottages.  Particularly those built from traditional materials like timber, mud, straw and stone. 

Building with traditional material made sense, as money was limited.  And so were our skills!  But with determination, and some help, we figured out how to build walls from straw.  We also used the dirt from the footprint of the building itself. 

Building with these materials ticked a lot of boxes.  Straw is a renewable resource and grown locally.  So we felt good about using it from an environmental point of view.  The clay we collected from preparing the site to build on had a low embodied energy.  Not only were the straw and mud cheap, but can also be returned to the earth at the end of their useful life.  Straw and earth are also forgiving materials to build with for beginners. The work is intuitive and family friendly, and the materials non-toxic.

Straw bales also offer a fantastic insulation solution.  They maintain a comfortable indoor temperature, with very little heating or cooling.  Which is an important consideration in our climate in the Adelaide Hills.  Here we can have both cold, wet winters as well as dry, hot summers.  Straw bale buildings are also bushfire resistant. This is another great reason to use them, as our area can be susceptible to devastating bushfires.

What message do you want to share with others through the work you do and the life that you live?

One of the things we've learnt is there are many ways to have a piece of land to call your own.  Even if the obvious path of purchasing land outright seems unattainable.  It may be through land sharing.  This may take some negotiation, but can work well if you find the right person to share with.  You could also join a community garden and lease a growing plot for a nominal fee.  Here you can work alongside like-minded souls to swap seeds, gardening tips and share your toils.  Or you can grow what you can in the space that you have.  Think pots, hanging gardens and so on. 

Getting clear on what you want in life, your dreams and how you want to contribute to the world helps you find your path.  But often you end up getting help, or finding a way in a mater you didn't expect or look for.  This was the case for us.  And by being open to saying yes, and exploring opportunities, it helped us get to where we are now.

If someone wants to connect with nature, I'd say start with opening your mind to what is already around you.  Forage for food and floral arrangements.  Take a long walk and pay attention to what is growing by footpaths or over fences.  These places yield amazing leaves and flowers that can be used in many different ways.  Snip a few to make your own beautiful, seasonal arrangement.  You don't even need a vase!  Try making a garland, or place some stems in a jar of water.  Not only will it bring life and vibrancy to your living space, but it can also be meditative.  And an amazing way to tune in with the natural world.

And finally we would love to know what your favourite flower is and why?

Rosie: I actually have two! One of my favourites is a foxglove.  I love this flower as it evokes memories of my childhood.  It reminds me of fairy stories and hidden woodland glades.  And it still holds an air of magic for me. I also love yarrow flowers. It’s a very beautiful, hardy and giving plant.  It is useful as a medicine, but also a perfect flower to add to bouquets.

Oscar: I have a special place in my heart for the Hills Fire daisy. It is a native understory plant found in the stringy bark forests of the mount lofty ranges. Hills daisies were grown commercially for a time on the hobby farm I grew up on in Carey Gully. They remind me of my mum.

I also have a favorite poppy that started out as a single small plant, bought by our daughter at a plant fair.  It looked the worse for wear and we never thought it would survive a season. It has since naturalized here and pops up in our garden beds during the spring.  The seedpods it produces are a wonderful ingredient in our work.  It’s a great personification of creating something from humble beginnings.

Find Rosie & Oscar in these places:

Website:  www.theroseandradish.com.au
Instagram: @theroseandradish (business)
Instagram:  @theroseandradish_home (home)
Facebook: Rose and Radish Farm

Rain for me

Rain is made for stories
It’s made for conversations
And for contemplation
For escaping into coffee shops
For staying in
For good reads
And good teas

Rain is made for getting soaking wet
For wellies and splashing in the puddles
For wet clothes clinging to cold skin
And mud on the boots
Then, it’s made for a hot shower

Some autumn nights
When the rain seems angry, stormy
And the streets are empty
It’s made for that midnight hot chocolate
Curling up and wondering.
Wondering about the universe,
Life and the magic of it all
It is made for gratefulness
For the safety of indoors

It’s made for sitting by the windows
And wrapping up in blankets
Staring out in awe at the sky
Looking at the raindrops
Making patterns on the glass
A strange meditation

When it drizzles, this half-hearted rain
It’s made for wistfulness.
Wishing it to be gone
Or wishing it to be more
Wishing it not to be a nuisance
Or wishing you were somewhere else

Rain is made for huddling
For seeking shelter
Under a tree or the crevices of buildings
It’s made for longing
To be home
A longing for a companion
Or the company of one’s own

Rain is made for movies
It’s made for music
For listening to songs
Or the rhythm of the rain itself

Rain is made for simple moments
Like feeling the raindrops on your face
Neck craned towards the sky
Arms open wide
Or looking up at night
At the street lights
When they make the rain shine
Like embers of gold

Rain is made for journeys
Long drives in the monsoon
It’s made for playfulness
And for guilty food
Hot, greasy and delicious!
Then perhaps it’s made for afternoon naps

Rain is made for memories
Sometimes it’s made for boredom
Or for card games
Maybe also restlessness
For the rain to stop
So we can get on with it

Rain is made for deep breaths
Of the petrichor of the first rain
It’s made for that special smell
Of wet earth and greenery
Of loam and moss
It’s made for that feeling
Of the world being freshly cleaned
Of the earth gladdened,
And a certain glow in the heart