Show Notes
As winter slowly loosens its grip at long last and the first whispers of spring have been noticable, we find ourselves at a moment of quiet transformation. The shift from one season to the next is more than just a change in weather it’s an invitation to realign, refresh, and embrace the gentle energy of renewal. I love the transition from winter to spring (and also summer to autumn), there seems to be so many marked and obvious changes compared to around the two solstices. I think we really feel that change from Winter to Spring, just like we really feel it going from Summer to Autumn. I set up a Buy Me a Coffee as a simple and meaningful way for those who enjoy my work to support the abundance of free content I create. From my podcast, newsletters, and Instagram posts to the thoughtful resources I share, so much of what I do is fueled by a love for slow, simple, and seasonal living. If my content has ever inspired, encouraged, or supported you on your journey, and you’d like to give back in a small way, buying me a coffee is a beautiful way to do so and starts at £1. Every contribution helps me continue sharing free, high-quality content while also supporting the time, energy, and love that goes into creating it. Your support, whether through a coffee or simply by engaging with my content, means the world to me. Thank you for being part of this slow and intentional space! The shift from winter to spring always feels like a deep exhale. It is the moment when the world stretches awake after months of rest, when nature begins to hum with possibility, and when we start to feel a renewed sense of energy. There is something so magical about this transition, a slow unfolding that reminds us that growth is always happening, even when we cannot see it. The stillness of winter begins to fade, replaced by an undercurrent of movement and change. The air feels different, charged with the quiet excitement of promise and of new beginnings. Winter teaches us the beauty of rest and reflection, of cosying up and turning inward. But as the days begin to stretch out a little longer, the hours of daylight extend and nature begins its slow unfurling, we, too, feel that nudge toward movement, creativity, and growth. How can we embrace this seasonal shift with intention? How can we allow ourselves to awaken at our own pace, without rushing or forcing the transition? Let’s slow down and journey together through the seasons with simplicity and intention. Subscribe to receive simple musings directly in your inbox.
Observing the Subtle Signs of Change One of the most beautiful aspects of the seasonal shift is the quiet, almost imperceptible signs that nature is stirring. The first green shoots as they break through the soil, the return of birdsong in the early mornings (or screaming magpies if you live where I do), the softness in the air that signals warmth to come. It is a seasonal shift that holds so much promise. These tiny markers all around remind us that transformation is happening, even when it feels slow and unseen. Take a moment to notice: * The way the golden hour lingers just a little longer. * The scent of fresh earth and the crispness in the air after a spring rain. * The tiny buds forming on trees, waiting for their moment to bloom. Bringing awareness to these changes anchors us in the present, allowing us to move with the season rather than against it. Honouring the Energy Shift As winter’s stillness gives way to spring’s awakening, we may feel an internal shift as well. Our energy begins to stir, creativity flows more freely, and the desire to move and to do, to create, to explore grows stronger. However, just as nature transitions gradually, we, too, can ease into the new season without rushing. Some days might still feel wrapped in winter’s slowness, while others call us outside, inviting us to stretch into the light. Ask yourself: * What am I ready to step into this season? * Where do I still need to linger in slowness? * What routi
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There are some things I used to compromise on without really noticing and I would explain them away as nothing more than practicality. Listen, I don’t think all compromise is bad because obviously it isn’t and sometimes life requires compromise… none of us are moving through life getting exactly what we want at every moment. But slowly, over the past few years, I have started to realise that some of the compromises I was making weren’t neutral meaning they were costing me something.
I think one of the most grounding things seasonal living has taught me is that not every season asks the same thing from us, and I don’t just mean the seasons outside the window, although I do mean those too. I mean the quieter seasons of our lives, the less obvious ones, the seasons of holding things together, of building. The seasons of rest, of tending, recovering, recalibrating, waiting, grieving, beginning again. The seasons that don’t arrive neatly on a calendar like the actual seasons, but still shape the way we move through our days.
I think one of the most uncomfortable parts of living intentionally is realising that your life might stop making sense to other people and that’s not because you’re doing anything wrong and it’s not because they are doing anything wrong either, but because difference, when it is lived honestly, has a way of unsettling the stories people carry about what a good life is supposed to look like. There is an unspoken expectation in modern life that our choices should be broadly recognisable. Ideally, they should also be explainable. If we choose something different around work, family, home, ambition, money, education or pace, we are often expected to justify it in a way that reassures other people we haven’t made a terrible mistake, it’s as though our lives need to pass some kind of public approval test before we are allowed to feel settled inside them. But life doesn’t need to be universally appealing to be deeply right for you, in fact, it only needs to be coherent to the person living it snd this is something I have had to learn slowly, and sometimes uncomfortably, over the years. I live a life that many people wouldn’t choose; I home educate my children, I live in a small, 650sq ft home by choice, I centre my days around home, rhythm, presence and ordinary life rather than constant expansion, I identify as a homemaker and I have opted out, where I can, from certain forms of pace, productivity and visibility. Not as a rejection of modern life entirely and certainly not because I think everyone should live like me, but because this is how I stay well inside the life I am actually living. And those choices are not meant to be persuasive (a very common assumption) they are simply mine and I speak to those who either associate with this way of living too, or desire to live in a similar way. I think that is where so much unnecessary tension begins. We assume that when someone makes a different choice, they must be making a statement about ours. * If someone home educates, it can be read as a criticism of school. * If someone stays in a small home, it can be read as a rejection of ambition. * If someone chooses a slower pace, it can be read as laziness. * If someone centres home, family or care, it can be read as regressive, especially for women, whose choices are so often treated as public property and moral declarations rather than personal decisions. But someone else’s inability to imagine themselves in your life is not a verdict on yours; it just means they wouldn’t choose it, it is that simple. And it’s also fine, they don’t have to. I wouldn’t choose lots of other people’s lives either. I can scroll through Instagram and see all sorts of lifestyles that make me think, “Absolutely not for me, thank you kindly”, but I don’t need to announce that in the comments section like a woman holding a clipboard at the gates of acceptable living, because it isn’t my life. And this is the bit we seem to forget… not everything needs our approval or agreement and not everything needs to be filtered through the lens of whether we personally would choose it. Sometimes another person’s life can simply exist. When I first started home educating, I noticed this very quickly. I had made the decision before my first child was even born, so it wasn’t sudden or impulsive. It was something we had thought about deeply. It was a long standing choice rooted in our values, our family rhythm and what we wanted for our children and yet even saying that can make people uncomfortable. Because if I say home education is the best choice for my children, some people hear, “School is the wrong choice for yours” and that’s not an assumption, I have literally had this accusation levied at me more than once. But that is of course not what I am saying… I don’t think every child should be home educated and I don’t think every parent has the capacity, desire or circumstances to home educate. I don’t think school is wrong for every child but I do think home education is
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Opting out is often presented as the answer isn’t it? The way back to yourself or the antidote to burnout. Or even the thing that will finally make life feel manageable again.