Reflections Upon a Hillside

A slower and rooted journey

Welcome, Beautiful Souls to ‘Beneath the Trees.’ A gentle gathering containing reflections on a personal journey towards a slower, rooted life alongside nature and the seasons. Here, I share the quieter chapters, the in-between moments, the doubts, the small acts of courage, and the ways I am learning to live more softly in a world that often asks us to hurry.

In this letter, I share discoveries of my nature -wellness journey alongside the changing cycles of the seasons.

Midday in late Spring

I sit beneath an ancient Elderberry tree in blossom that clings to the edge of a hillside. I have spread my throw on the warming earth and take out my flask of hot tea as I look across at the view of tumbling fields, patches of woodland and dotted sheep underneath a vast, cloudless blue sky.

I have been walking for over an hour, setting out later than usual and although the nights are cold, the sun is warming up slowly, like a tended fire which gently flickers and grows, spreading warmth, light and comfort across the land.

The hill sits quietly behind the village where I rent my tiny cottage. I can see it from my allotment where I tend to my hens and grow my vegetables. Reaching the top is a steady climb on a narrow path through fields of Cow Parsley and lambs jumping with joy. The top of the hill is flat and long, lined with bushes and brave trees that are bent in shape due to years of ferocious winter storms.

As I take a sip of tea, I lean back against the twisted Elderberry trunk and close my eyes, allowing my senses to hear rather than think, to listen rather than speak. I hear a pheasant call, a Skylark’s song and feel the breeze gently across my face as it travels along the hillside, carrying the scent of blossom, fresh earth and new beginnings. I open my eyes and notice how vibrant the trees are, their green uncurled leaves shining proudly from the light of the sun.

Reaching for my journal I reflect upon my nature - wellness journey, my return to a slower, rooted life where nature, the seasons and simpler ways of being have brought presence and peace in a world full of noise, to do lists and thoughts that race ahead.

I know now we cannot push against the tide. To force, to tighten, to stretch. To surrender is to gently exhale and move with the ebb and flow of our lives. The tide will flow anyway, will bring us to shore. It is up to us how we arrive there.

Adjusting my seat, I watch a Buzzard soar across the hillside. Majestic and free, he disappears over the hillside towards the village. I reach for my pen and begin to write, thinking of how slowing down, noticing the rhythms of the seasons has allowed me to feel content with less, happy to live with daily routines and rituals that change with the turning of the earth.

With the sun warming me, and the first Swallows swooping, I begin to write my list:

Waking with the light: Since I began to look after rescue hens, I learnt quickly how they, like all birds emerge with the light. During the long winter months, my rhythm is slow and I sleep late like the birds and the wintry sun. After the Spring equinox I find the light quickens and nudges me earlier and I wake to the Blackbird’s soulful notes seeping through the old, wooden-framed window. I let out my waiting hens so they can forage and enjoy the soft morning sun on their backs. During these lengthening days, my morning routine is one of tending before sitting in my small courtyard garden with my first cup of tea and watching the sun softly emerge from over the roof tops as a new day begins and the human world around me begins to stir and wake.

Noticing seasonal changes in my local patch. We do not need to go far to see how nature changes; in Winter it can seem all is dormant but in Spring, life in nature returns. I only need to look up and notice the birds, how the Swallows have returned once more, how the geese are leaving for warmer climates and how the foxes are raising their young to feel a lift in spirits and energy. Seeing this cycle of new life is a joy in a world that can feel shaky and unstable. Noticing the clump of Bluebells swaying in the breeze, the Blackbird’s song and the Wild Garlic flowers is a familiar, yearly pattern that grounds, feels familiar and brings daily, new sightings of joy.

Being Present: Living alongside the seasons means I am present to the unfolding around me. The glimpse of a Tree Creeper or the flash of a Kingfisher are fleeting seconds that allow the thoughts to disappear as awe and wonder take over. I know the sights I have seen and the way I have seen them will not appear again. All sightings in nature are unique, even the ancient old Oak Tree changes day by day.

Stepping away on the ‘Mossy Green Path’ My ‘Mossy Green Path’ is an imaginary one I have written about before. I visualise a winding path beneath the trees. To step on this path means moving away from the turbulent demands of modern-day noise, rush and requiring more than is needed. This path is slower, simpler and allows time for noticing, pausing, resting and being with the ebb and flow of the changing seasons.

Being Outside and working with the earth. I learnt a long time ago that to be well I need access to the outdoors. As the light grows and I emerge earlier I find my time outside grows too as much planting needs to be done if I am to harvest food throughout late Summer and Autumn. Putting my hands in the warm and nourished soil reminds me of simpler times when the sound of a pony and cart was heard through the village and a horse gently ploughed instead of loud machines. There are quiet times when working with the soil that I feel I have stepped back in time; a simpler time, a time connected deeply to nature, when communities would have gathered to celebrate the arrival of Spring and the abundance of the growing season.

I hear a sharp call above me and see the Buzzard has returned. She settles on a tree- branch along the ridge and I feel humbled to have her company. I pause for a while enjoying the fragility of the moment before the Buzzard takes off and I know it is time to walk down the hill and to return to my cottage. To make a simple lunch of soup and bread and eat in my courtyard garden whilst my old dog and the Robin faithfully keep me company. Stretching, I put away my tea, my journal and pen and stand up to take one last look at the sweeping landscape beyond the hill. Next time the land would have changed again, and I pause as I hold onto this memory as the Sun reaches out and warms my face.

Holding onto the peacefulness of this place, I turn the other way to what waits for me below.

Thank you for being part of my journey and sitting with me Beneath the Trees. I’m so glad we are walking this quieter, mossy path together.

Until we gather again, may you find small moments of stillness in your own days.

Sending seasonal warmth and love,

Clare