I have always loved the slow, liminal days between Christmas and New Year. They are a time of gentle transition, a quiet breath as the year eases to its close, a space in which to reflect on the year gone by, and perhaps to set intentions for the year ahead.
For twenty years now I’ve been crossing the channel to France to stay in my parent’s simple stone cottage in the Pays de la Loire. I visited first in my late teens, when days were leisurely, evenings were late and sleep was plentiful. Back then, my holiday always began in the Brittany Ferries bar. Nowadays, I travel
As a young child, I grew up in Devon, on the edge of Dartmoor national park. Some of my earliest memories are of streams and moorland, woods and hollow trees. I sometimes feel as if that wildness became a part of who I am, of who I will always be. Over the Easter holidays, I