There is something very soothing about tiny traditions. In the winter time, they’re the little landmarks that help us navigate our way through the grey days, reassuring us that we will once again make it out into the springtime beyond. For our family, one such tradition is Snowdrop Sunday. On a bright Sunday, in mid February, we
Fields were the landscape of my childhood: flat Suffolk fields with endless sweeping skies. Running through long grass, swishing along secret paths through golden corn, scrambling over stacked hay bales and loitering along hedgerows whilst the dog nosed out rabbit trails. These are the small adventures that I return to when I close my eyes.
Over the Midsummer weekend, there is magic abroad. On the longest day, the very start of the summer, we visited the secret garden at Cerney House. The soft warm air was heavy with the scent of roses and lavender, and the gentle breeze carried the audible buzzing of happy bees. Enclosed by old brick walls,