wild garlic & woodsmoke

I spent my early years on the edge of Dartmoor’s wilderness: the high, desolate moor, in summer dressed with a trimming of golden coconut-scented gorse. A ruined castle was my playground, ice-cold streams my paddling pool. As a small child I ran through steep woodland where the ancient hollow trees housed -I felt quite sure

Read More

the day he turned one

The day he turned one, I sat with him, under a summer sky, on the cliffs of Cape Cornwall. He played amongst the swathes of pink Thrift flowers, running his chubby little fingers through them, picking the occasional bloom and handing it to me, with a mischievous twinkle in his wide blue eyes. I stretched

Read More

taking time

It almost certainly goes without saying, but as the mother of three small children, I don’t get very many moments in the day to myself. The bathroom is the only room in the house which has a lock, and the shower is my sanctuary. Those instants when the water is falling are always an oasis

Read More

these moments

The baby has been poorly over this last week.  Nothing serious, but enough to make the poor mite miserable. Everything has had to pause: plans have been cancelled, to do lists have been put on hold, laundry has piled up. He has been kept inside, and I have stayed with him. All he has wanted

Read More