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

Bluebells (Flora & Fauna, Patterns in Nature Series)

Northhill 'Summer' (The Malvern Hill Series)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Nicola: You describe We Are Stardust as a greetings card shop where art and science collide.  Can you tell us the story behind the business, and how you blend both art and science in the work you do?

Agnes: "Every one of us is a memorial to long-dead stars. Every one of us was quite literally made in heaven.”

– Marcus Chown, The Magic Furnace

Many years ago when the universe was born stars exploded to make the elements of the earth. These elements are what make everything in the world.  They make you and me.  They make the sea, creatures big and small, the clouds and the stars. We are stardust is a celebration of how we are all connected to each other and the universe around us.

Albert Einstein once said, “The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination”. Art and science need us to use our imagination to gain a deeper understanding of nature and our place in the world. Art is a creative expression based on our experiences of the world. Science is our search to understand how the physical world works. In the words of Professor Brian Cox, “deeper understanding confers that most precious thing - wonder.” That is exactly what we are stardust hopes to inspire: a moment of wonder.

I have never sat comfortably within the sciences or arts. I’ve always been somewhere in between. As a child I used to imagine I was an explorer in a jungle. Gathering unusual animal specimens on mysterious tropical islands, or discovering ancient civilisations. I’d draw maps of my explorations and collect strange stones, shells and flowers. The boundaries between art and science weren’t there - it was all about exploring the world. We are stardust is a natural progression from my childhood imaginations.

I research, illustrate and design each card and print.  They are made for those with wild natures, sophisticated minds, and loyal hearts. Each design captures a fact, story or curiosity.  So when you post a we are stardust card to your loved one, you gift them with a moment of wonder for the natural world. I hope my cards and prints give you a way of sharing your curiosity for the world with your loved ones.

 We Are Stardust is guided by three values.  These values are wilderness, sophistication and loyalty.  Can you tell us how you incorporate them into the work you do.

I struggled to find the three core values for we are stardust.  I'm still not sure if I've got them exactly right.  Perhaps wilderness, learning and love would be better?  But I'll try and explain what I mean by each.

Wilderness:  We are stardust is for those who love adventures, exploring and discovering.  The cards and prints are created with respect and awe for the natural world.  Wilderness celebrates the wonders of nature, along with all the strange, dark and mysterious parts that come with it.

Sophistication:  We are stardust is for those who value beauty, knowledge and learning.  It's for people who love objects with style and substance. We are stardust designs are beautiful and capture a fact, story or curiosity.  This is done through art and science that inspires wonder for the natural world.

Loyalty:  We are stardust is for those who fiercely love their friends and family. The cards and prints have been created to be precious gifts to share with loved ones.  They have also been created to spark a connection with the natural world.

Where do you draw your inspiration? 

The Scientific Revolution saw early natural scientists adventure around the world.   It saw them collecting and naming strange new species and testing hypotheses. We are stardust is inspired by this exciting time of polymaths.  Star charts, anatomical etchings and botanical prints from this time are also a big inspiration.

Ideas come from many places.  It might be from a conversation with a family member, friend or colleague.  It might be from reading an interesting article. Or from looking at why nature is the way it is and wanting to learn more.  It might also be from a little sketch I did. I also have to think how the idea would work as a card or print. This is quite hard and I have produced a few cards that I like but then don’t do so well in my shop.

Once I have an idea, I sketch out rough designs to see if it could work. I then go about creating the illustration. These are inspired by old scientific etchings and drawings. I use ink, watercolour and paper to create the illustrations and work from life as much as possible.

At the same time I research the science behind the idea. I try to find the most reliable source possible. If I had the time and money I would look at the original scientific article to see what it says. Some are open access which is great, but many aren’t and some are so technical it would take too much time to digest. In these cases I rely on summaries in reliable science news outlets.  As well as University and Museum web pages. I love learning more about our fascinating world through this research.

Lastly I pull the illustration, the caption and research together as a final design on my computer. I try to keep the designs minimalist. Words aren’t my strong point so I find the captions hard. I love getting feedback on draft designs from the we are stardust online family (anyone that follows me via my Journal or on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram). They often come up with ideas that inspire the final design.

 We’d love to know where you live, what your workspace is like and what a typical working day looks like for you.

This year I went completely freelance. Until then I was employed as a science communication specialist during the day.  And I would spend my evenings and weekends working on we are stardust.  These days I try and work three days doing freelance science communication work.  Leaving two days of the week for working on we are stardust.  But sometimes this balance isn't achieved as often as I'd like!

I mostly work from home in a calm, warm little room filled with light. I live in St Albans in the UK.  I am surrounded by countryside.  But only 20 minutes from the metropolis of London.  This means I get the best of both worlds. 

I try to make sure I have a routine each morning. This includes breakfast followed by a swim or a walk.  I then work for a while before taking a little break around 11am. I then stop for lunch around 1pm. I like listening to podcasts for online creative during this time. In the afternoons I work from home before into St Albans to work in a café for the last couple of hours.

What the work is depends on if it’s a we are stardust day, or a science communication day. If it’s we are stardust day I like to spend the morning drawing or painting.  The rest of the day is spent sorting orders, updating my website, writing blogs and researching card ideas.

 How do you enjoy spending your downtime?  And I would personally love to know if you find it hard to switch off from work, or whether you are someone who can step away from it for a while?

I have too many hobbies! Which one I focus on seems to go in cycles. I love to walk and cycle in the countryside.  I also enjoy spending quality time with friends and family, usually over dinner.  Other hobbies include baking, knitting, drawing, painting, playing my violin, reading and dancing!

I go through phases with switching off from work. During good times I manage a balance between work and downtime and feel in control of how I spend my day. When things are bad, and I'm feeling overwhelmed, it's my sleep that suffers. I usually wake up around 3am and then don’t get back to sleep until about 6am.

I have tried a few techniques to manage feelings of overwhelm and stress. At 3am I do a gentle yoga practice, listen to guided sleep meditations and drink hot chocolate! Day-to-day I've started bullet journaling to help me keep on top of different clients’ needs.  As well as completing tasks to keep we are stardust running. I also need to have regular breaks from computer work that include exercise and fresh air. I have found going to a café for the last couple of hours of the day helpful.  It means when I arrive back home my workday is finished. I also enjoy the process of cooking as a way of switching my mind from work to the evening.

In the long term I'd like to get better at planning my workload for the next quarter at least.  That way I would know what I need to achieve and by when, and I can say no to projects that take me off in the wrong direction.

Can you tell us about the different collections We Are Stardust has and whether you have a favourite?

We are stardust has four collections:

· Anatomy - discover your inner beauty.
· Astronomy - journey through the heavens.
· Botany - step into the wilderness.
· Zoology - explore the animal kingdom.

It is so hard to have a favourite! I love all the strange animal stories – the lobsters and the beetles – but they aren’t always the best sellers. I enjoy painting and drawing plants.  So from that perspective the botany collection is a favourite.

I also think the body is amazing.  I am currently acutely aware of this as I'm pregnant and totally fascinated at how my body is able to grow a baby.  So I'm passionate about learning more about how our bodies work.  And I think it's important to celebrate them. 

The astronomy collection is a definite favourite. I have lots of new designs planned for it. I find painting the night sky a real challenge. It is humbling and inspiring to reflect that we are such a tiny part in this huge universe.

 I also know you have a Christmas card collection being launched soon and you have a special offer for our readers.  I’d love for you to tell us more. 

Yes! The new Christmas card collection celebrates the holly and the ivy. Holly and ivy have decorated houses in winter for thousands of years.  Their evergreen nature is seen as a magical property to keep evil spirits at bay. The meanings the Victorians and pagans gave each plant links to the way the plants grow in the wild.

For example, the Victorian meaning for holly was ‘foresight’.  The prickly leaves at the bottom protect it from grazing deer and cattle. Once it has reached above grazing height the leaves become smooth. It was used in wreaths to protect and wish good fortune upon friends and family in the year ahead.

The we are stardust Christmas cards are all about this link between plant meaning and the way it grows in the wild. I love how science and folklore often intertwine in this way. Painting both plants has made me see each of them differently.  The sculptural spikes of the holly and the delicate veins in the ivy are incredible.

I'm delighted to offer your readers a 15% discount on my Christmas card collection packs.  To redeem the discount enter CREATIVECOUNTRYSIDE1017 when you reach the checkout. 

Visit the website and redeem Agnes' very kind offer here, or follow we are stardust on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

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

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

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

Ladies and gents, from the top of Conic Hill.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things to do at home and in the garden:

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

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

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

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I reside in Cornwall which means Autumn reaches us last at the very edge of the island. Although summer has waned and I’ve already witnessed my first blood red full moon of the season, there’s still enough warmth left to bask in the shallow shores in our swim togs and enjoy the beaches all to ourselves. The trees are just about beginning to fade and the first scattering of acorns have dusted our woodland floors. Last weekend, I drove North to the edge of the Peak District and it enchanted me to feel as though I was plunging further into real autumn, to see the trees become increasingly burned gold and red as I travelled, the leaves dancing serenely down.

With the autumn equinox behind us now, we have passed the period marker of when the length of the days are equal to the nights; what lies next is the observation of Samhain, the beginning of the chapter of darkness and night. Don’t despair, it’s not as grim as it sounds; for the night is exciting and the approaching phase on the calendar is one of fire and warmth. The tradition of observing Samhain is well kept in modern culture and today is more commonly referred to as ‘Halloween’ or ‘All Hallows Eve’. Although Samhain predominantly marks the beginning of the winter in the Celtic calendar and celebrates the beginning of the ‘period of darkness’, there are the well-known, altogether more mystical associations which have been translated over to other religions that also observe this festival. I’m sure you’ve learned this from cultural osmosis in one way or another, but it is believed across the faiths that the 31st of October is the night when the veil between the spirit world and ours is the thinnest, that spirits can walk and dance among us.

On the British isles, it was the Pagan Celts that began honouring their dead with Samhain; lighting candles, bonfires and holding feasts wearing the skins and bones of the animals sacrificed for the festival thus beginning the tradition of disguise and dressing up for the festivities.  While death is perhaps the largest theme of the Samhain festival, there is nothing morbid or satanic about the celebrations; modern pagans do not believe that death is something to be feared, but it gives way to birth and new beginnings. The festival is not only one of marking a shift in the natural calendar and physical changes in the earth  but one of respect and joy in celebration of the lives of loved ones and a time to reflect on things that have come to an end, be it relationships, jobs, friendships, chapters and other significant life changes. It’s a time of making peace and new beginnings.

Cast yourself back into the Samhain of the Celtic Pagans; their druids built enormous bonfires which were sacred and their fire was shared with the village and used to light the bonfires of their homes throughout the winter, protecting and warming the villagers. Feasts were shared together in these communities with music and merriment. As the veil between the two worlds, corporeal and spirit, was seemingly dissolved, the druids thought that the spirits of their ancestors could help them to predict the future and so fortunes would be told. For the Celts, the transition into the new phase on the wheel of the year did not begin at dawn but instead at sunset, with darkness. As the final harvest of the year has been reaped, the seeds (symbolic of the gods) go back into the earth for the winter period to be reborn at Yule. It is considered that as the seeds are plunged back into the deep, dark loamy soil of the land, the sun king travels the underworld, learning and gaining wisdom before his re-emergence at Yule time with new ideas and knowledge.

It is symbolic that during this period of darkness, we reflect and take stock, find inspiration, create and birth wonderful new dreams and ideas. The winter phase is a time for dreaming. Have you ever wondered what the significance of apples at Halloween is? In Celtic-Pagan lore, apples are a sacred fruit and a symbol of life and immortality. A Celtic tradition was to bury the apples at Samhain which would provide food for the souls waiting to be reborn. Another symbol of Samhain is the besom-broom, traditionally made with birch things to represent purification and renewal. The motions of sweeping away the autumn leaves and cobwebs not only efficiently clears away the house, but ritually clears away old energies making space for the new; another symbol of rebirth.

The word Samhain translates as ‘Summer’s end’ and comes from the gaelic language. It was known under other names across the various Celtic regions, for example; ‘Nos Galan Gaea’ in Welsh which means ‘Winter’s Eve’. But Samhain isn’t the oldest festival nor the only festival where the Pagan Celts believed to have elements of ‘magic’ and the ‘mystic’ - May the 1st in fact holds much more prominence in the early Celtic calendars across the British Isles.

Today, the festival has since been absorbed and adopted by modern faiths and culture and has become a vibrant mix of traditions and influences. One thing is for sure and that is the theme of the spirit world merging with our own still influences our celebrations of the Halloween festival and although it may not be the skins and skulls of animals that the revellers choose to wear, the enthusiasm for disguise and dressing up has endured and is certainly one of the key components of modern Halloween.  

So maybe this Samhain you’ll be lighting a candle in memory of lost family or relationships, bobbing for apples or even hitting the town for a night of wild antics dressed up as an exceedingly scary bunny rabbit. Regardless of whether you believe that the spirits are dancing among us that evening, there’s no denying that Halloween is an exciting festival of whimsy and enduring harmless tradition (as long as you’re not sacrificing anything more than a few five pound notes at the bar.) It marks the beginning of a season filled with roaring fires, listening to storms rattle the windows, putting on the most comfortable of woollen scarves, lighting deliciously scented candles while nestling down under thick blankets with your loved ones and indulging in seasonal hot drinks liked mulled cider and spiced coffee. I think personally, that’s as good a reason as any to celebrate.

Hedgerows are a defining feature of the English countryside, creating a distinctive patchwork over much of the land.  The word ‘hedge’ derives from the Anglo Saxon ‘hecg’ meaning boundary.  But over time these leafy stretches have proved to be so much more than man’s way of marking a plot or controlling the movement of livestock.

Well over half of England has had a continuously hedged landscape for a thousand years or more.  This is despite the removal, in medieval times, of many hedgerows to create an open field system of farming, and the subsequent planting of new hedges under the Enclosure Acts in the years between 1750 and 1850.

Over time different regions developed their own distinctive methods of planting or laying, creating traditional practices that today contribute much to the character of a place.  From the hedges of Cornwall – stone banks topped with turf and adopted over time by a multitude of wild plants, sometimes with their herringbone pattern (known as Curzy Way or Jack and Jill) still showing – to the carefully pleached and well maintained, square-cut hedges of Lancashire and Westmorland, our hedgerows are a distinctive part of our cultural heritage.  And whether created to manage livestock or land (to prevent soil erosion or to regulate water supply for example) they are vital to the survival of much of our native flora and fauna.

As winter approaches and the hedgerows begin to lose their leaves, we get to glimpse into the thicket of branches and twigs; to discover what the hedgerow harbours.  Long abandoned birds’ nests, a loveliness of ladybirds clustering together to hibernate, a stretch of spider’s web, all provide insight into the role our hedges play as shelter.  For flying insects such as butterflies, sheltered conditions are essential, allowing them to gain and retain the heat needed for flight.  For small mammals it is the interconnectedness of our hedgerows that proves key. Networks of hedges provide safe routes to follow, allowing creatures such as mice and voles to move freely in search of food while remaining hidden from predators.

At this time of year the hedgerow’s worth as a source of food is most apparent too.  Great clouds of bees, wasps, and flies erupt from the starry, nectar-rich heads of ivy flowers, while red admirals flit among them.  And as the flowers fatten into dark berries they become rich pickings for hungry birds.

Of course it’s not just wildlife that benefits from this natural abundance.  Hedgerows have long provided some of our favourite victuals: blackberry jam, sloe gin, rosehip syrup, hawthorn jelly to name but a few.  And they are a great source of inspiration; particularly on autumnal days, all aglow with hips and haws, and bedecked with strings of berries, garlands of hops, and the tangle of traveller’s joy.  Clusters of woody nightshade berries hang like little lanterns, and robin’s pincushions – caused by the larvae of a tiny gall wasp, Diplolepis rosae  – redden on the wild roses.

Perhaps it is this sheer density of different life forms that makes our hedgerows so fascinating. Our landscape and our lives are certainly made all the more rich by their presence.

Did you know?

It takes around one hundred years for a new woody species, such as blackthorn, hawthorn, elder or hazel, to become established.  Thanks to this knowledge you can estimate a hedge’s age using what is known as Hooper’s Hypothesis. Just count the number of woody species within a 30 metre stretch, then multiply that number by a hundred.  The hypothesis was formed by the naturalist Max Hooper who died earlier this year, aged 82.

This year, inspired by some of the great articles I’d read on the Creative Countryside journal, I made a new year’s resolution to make a serious effort to change my lifestyle. I was eager to embrace slow living, to get outside more and to reconnect with nature and the seasons. I was excited by the potential new exciting activities this would involve and top of my list was to go camping. I used to love camping, pre-kids, but since the arrival of our two small boys, it has felt rather less... feasible! But I knew we should definitely give it a go and spent much of the year psyching myself up to planning a trip. We finally managed it in September.

Now if you’re living in the UK, you might remember – this September saw two glorious autumn weekends: beautiful golden light, soft breezes, rosy fruits in the hedgerows, a fresh tang to the morning air giving way to lots of warm, gentle sunshine. They were the kind of days where you just want to spend every moment outside, soaking up the last tastes of summer.

Neither of those weekends were the ones we went camping. The weekend we chose was a little different. The weatherman predicted northerly winds and single figure night time temperatures and on the Friday evening, the rain lashed down as we headed for the Norfolk coast. “What are we doing??” I repeatedly asked my husband as double-rapid wipers struggled to clear the windscreen.

Of course we’d planned the whole thing at the height of summer. “September is usually lovely” I assured one of the friends coming with us. “Better than August” he confirmed. I was so excited at the prospect of the trip – I was finally making good on my resolutions.

When we reached our destination in Norfolk, the kids were inexplicably still awake despite their usual propensity to fall asleep in the car at the drop of a hat. “As long as we don’t have to put the tents up in the dark” asserted my husband but the last of the light had faded as we pulled into the campsite. Things weren’t going brilliantly.

But – and there had to be a but – it had stopped raining finally and it was actually good fun getting the tents up with friends, even by torchlight. The children were shattered so they fell asleep almost immediately and by the time we emerged from our tent, the stars were out and all that was left to be done was to pop open the bottle of Prosecco our friends had kindly brought, wrap ourselves up in our warmest clothes and relax alfresco.

The next days were filled with windswept beaches, actual pirates (a pirate festival in Wells!), sand dunes and beach barbeques and we had a wonderful time.

Here are a few things I learned about camping in September...

1. Pack all of the clothes: the sun was warm, the wind chilly, the rain showers heavy and the nights downright cold. I packed everything and we used the lot.

2. Love the stars: no lesson here for countryside livers but I’ve abandoned my rural roots and now live in a small town – seeing the stars, satellites and milky way again without light pollution for the first time in a few years – beautiful.

3. The more children, the more relaxing: other people’s children entertain your children so you don’t have to. Result.

4. Sand dunes offer everything: castles and palaces, hide and seek and dens, exercise for little legs, shelter for big ones, shells and treasure – the delight on my two boys' faces during a few hours by the dunes at Holkham beach spoke for itself. Beware of cuts from the spiky marram grass though!

5. Sausages taste best on a beach barbeque, especially when it takes a while to get going and you’re properly hungry for them.

6. Proper comfy air beds beat thermarests hands down: I have a tendency to be a bit purist when it comes to camping – is it really proper camping with mattresses and a duvet? A bit of me still thinks no but nevertheless, so much more comfortable.

7. Don’t go all out on the first night. You know the drill – group gets together, excited at prospect of adult company, stays up chatting late into the Friday night, possibly with the odd drink, and the rest of the weekend suffers. I’ve done it so many times before (I swear the best conversations happen after midnight) but I learned, again, that it’s not the wisest move – the small people wake early in tents!

Finally... It felt like real life, the kind of life I want to be living – my feet sinking into waterlogged sand, the waves soaking my jeans, the crack of the pirates’ muskets, the kids' laughter outside the tent, even at 6.30am, relaxed chats with good friends who aren’t in a hurry. Autumn camping? Yep, I’m there!

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MELANIE WRITES ABOUT SEASONAL ADVENTURES WITH HER FAMILY OVER AT BIGSTICKLITTLESTICK.COM

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

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

On the origins of Apple Day, Common Ground remark:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October is... squashes of all shapes and sizes, leaves turning golden and falling in clumps, winds that nip your ears, the end of harvest season, and a time for bonfires.
 

Did you know? Apple Day is nearly upon us! Celebrate this humble fruit on October 21st by attending a celebration, or get creative and make an autumnal display using seasonal fruit and other finds.
 

Dates for your diary: October 31st isn't just Halloween; it's also the ancient festival of Samhain. Check back later in the month for Sarah P's post on how to keep this celebration, or grab a copy of the magazine to read Sarah H's take on the day.
 

Things to do at home and in the garden:

• Bring out the blankets and stock up the logs ready for those colder nights.
• Make seasonal displays with foraged autumn finds. 
• Try out this homemade cider recipe - it's so easy and you can make as much or as little as you like!

Be creative:

Have a go at foraging and then with your bounty make a simple hawthorn berry jelly.

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Nicola: You live on a one hundred and fifty year old homestead in a beautiful part of Tasmania, Australia. Can you tell me how your family came to settle here, and why you love this area so much? 

Giuliana: My husband and I and our four children moved to Wattle Grove in 2000. We were looking for somewhere with land, so we could give our children a different kind of experience. As it turned out the property we bought had a working dairy on it, so my husband decide to start milking cows. In the early stages we were milking up to 120 cows. 

The community in and around Cygnet is very supportive.  There is always something happening. We love the environment, as well as the diversity of the people and activities. We also love the natural beauty and the magnificent views. The area has become a trendy, thriving and vibrant place to live.  There are many small boutique industries and lovely little shops.  There is also a marvellous market and cafes where people can come together to meet and be social. When we drive back to the Huon Valley it really feels like home. 

Tell us about The Farmhouse Kitchen. How it came about, what you teach and what people can learn during a day spent with you? 

The Farmhouse Kitchen has been a long-term dream of mine.  While occupied with the dairy farm we had no time to renovate the run down old house.  Or even consider the possibility of something other than farming for the property.  We finally gave milking away and began restoring the house back to its old charm.  It was at this point it seemed there was a chance to move closer to my dream of teaching cooking.   

During the restoration we created a beautiful kitchen.  The kitchen leant itself to the possibility of starting something new and exciting.  I've always had the support of my family, especially my youngest daughter Genevieve.  And together we have created a friendly environment to share our passion with others.  This passion is our knowledge of genuine, traditional Italian cooking.   

At the Farmhouse Kitchen we specialise in the cuisine of the region of Puglia in southern Italy.  This is where my family is from. The traditional food of Puglia, along with Sicily, is known for having some of the best food in Italy. It is the food-growing region and has a vast culinary history of healthy, simple and tasty dishes.  Some of which date back to pre-Roman times (the home of the Mediterranean Diet). We provide insight into the history of the dishes where possible.  And look at the cultural and historic reasons behind the techniques and ingredients.  

Our day is filled with cooking followed by a meal typical of an Italian family.  We teach dishes that can be reproduced at home.  These include many shapes of pasta and the varied sauces to go with them.  Bread, pizza focaccia, dips and salads.  Typical festive dishes, desserts, meat dishes and so much more. 

Your family is from Italy, one of the most beautiful parts of the world. What does your heritage mean to you, and how do you continue to honour its traditions while living in Tasmania? 

My parents and three siblings arrived in Tasmania in 1959 and lived near the CBD of Hobart. Mamma and Papà still live in Hobart at 89 and 94 years of age. When I was born the entire street was home to Italians from all over Italy.  Each with their own traditions, skills and cuisine.  

Living in a tight knit community meant the women learned from each other and shared their skills.  As a result the techniques and diversity of dishes is enormous.  When people settle in another country they tend to hold onto the traditions and foods they are used to.  While their mother land progresses, those that leave remain in a sort of time warp.  As a result the best traditional food is often found in the homes of emigrants, rather than in the country of origin.   

This is true of Italians who left Italy during the depression years after the Second World War.  Back home in Italy the grandmothers are the only link left between old and new cuisine.  While the children of emigrants still prepare food in the same age-old method handed down to them from generation to generation. 

In our household my mother worked long hours as a dressmaker.  So we helped with preparing meals from a very young age.  All the recipes have been handed down verbally.  There is no written record of many of the amazing dishes from our region here in Tasmania.  I have taken it upon myself to start putting these recipes on paper so they aren't lost forever.   

Tasmania lends itself perfectly to the Mediterranean diet.  We can access excellent fresh produce, and grow most of what we need in our vegetable patches. This wasn't the case when my parents first arrived.  But with the resurgence of the importance of good food, there is almost nothing you cannot find here. 

Can you tell me what an average day in the life of The Farmhouse Kitchen looks like? 

We have classes two days per week.  And recently we have introduced Mini Classes.  These are held twice a month for those that can't spend an entire day with us. 

Our classes start at 9 am with a coffee or tea and introductions. We usually prepare quite a lot of dishes, depending on the types of class, until around 1:30.  Half way through we have a morning tea break with cake and coffee.  At the end we enjoy what we have made with a glass of wine, followed by an Italian dessert. 

Everyone also goes home with a copy of the recipes they have made, so they can reproduce them time and again. 

And lastly, what do you hope those that experience a day of culinary experience with you take away from it? 

I would love people to feel that they have experienced what it is like to be part of an Italian family for a day. To be able to stand around a kitchen, laugh, chat and enjoy creating something special.  Just as we use to do as kids with my mother.  It's so nice to see total strangers get together and create new friendships.  To chat and exchanging experiences, as well as taste real Italian food as it should be.  Often for the first time. I enjoy showing people the simplicity of preparation.  Teaching them how to turn simple ingredients into something new and healthy.  And have them experience the amazing taste. 

I also love the idea that people can go home and reproduce the same dishes themselves. I don’t do anything that can't be made in their own kitchens at home.  I have received great feedback that the meals they make at home turn out the same as in class. 

Find Giuliana and The Farmhouse Kitchen at www.thefarmhousekitchen-tas.com and on Facebook.

Drop some oil into a large pool of surface water.  Watch as it slowly bleeds and swirls, dispersing, yet unable to be truly absorbed, accommodated.  It moves slowly, yet purposefully; expansively: and that is the very same image I can see before me, as I gaze up at a gloom September sky, that moves like an unearthly liquid.

I can’t ascertain whether it is cloud, rain or merely haze, but the sky pulses today, as it licks over the embers of slowly dying moorland.  And despite this movement, the air feels listless and lifeless; barren, devoid, empty.  And it is the loss of the swallows, that provides the punctuation on this thought.

Only a few weeks prior, the sky overhead was a chalky blue, washed with soft white clouds that drifted aimlessly and happily through cool evening air.  Against this sheet music, the graceful arcs and sweeps of swallows played out a natural music for the eyes; an orchestra of flight, grace and silent triumph.

But today, an emptiness.  An absence that is felt, in ways weightier than the lightness of their presence.  I wonder where they are; what they are doing?  Whether they ever think of these fields, and the hours they spent sweeping over them?  I think of them, here, and now.  I gaze across fields that transition into moorland, and lament their loss.

My legs take on their own rhythm, and I slip into a gait that is comfortable and effortless.  Today, it is my eyes that are doing all of the work, drinking in every last vestige of what once was verdant.  Summer is over, and autumn is here.  Yet I always feel that autumn never truly ‘arrives’; this beautiful season is far too transitional to remain still, or stable, to definitively arrive.

The grasses that sprang forth from lichen-covered walls with such verdant energy, are now yellow, white and brown.  Leggy, tired, defeated: I can relate.

How strange, as they hunch and bend over themselves.  Such weightless things, yet the stalks of spent energy now appear to carry an invisible force of great magnitude.  Their swansong is as stark as the clouds that gather above my head.

I see a piece of wood that is too large to be labelled a twig, or indeed, a stick, and yet too small to be described as a log.  It is covered in the most wonderful greenish and blueish lichen – veritably covered – and has the appearance of scales; a snake of the most exquisite delicate patterns and textures.  I run my hand across it and marvel at the beauty of its cool sensation.

I continue on my way, and take heart from the various ferns that protrude from dry-stone walls.  Autumn is a time of visual and visceral decay, yet a thousand observations combine to form a unique beauty that is there for those that seek it with open eye and honest soul.