The Clearing posts

Living in the countryside has many advantages. This week has reminded me just how much wildlife we have quite literally on our doorstep - although it has also brought one of the less comfortable sides of country life into sharp focus. It all started in the garden. A lesser weasel appeared from underneath the gate and spent some time having a good run around. A neighbour told my husband that a grass snake had been spotted disappearing underneath his van on our drive, a squirre

Well, I missed writing my blog last week. I was in the midst of working with colleagues on a collaborative bid for four pieces of work, and something had to give. As it turned out, my blog wasn’t the only thing. I was due to travel to London for the Barefoot Coaching Conference. I’d been looking forward to meeting people face to face, reconnecting with others and expanding my network. But the bid had the potential to bring work, and there was a lot still to do. It was a diffi

It’s amazing what rain can do. Just a couple of weeks ago, the landscape around home was dry and barren, yellow stretching across fields where green would normally dominate and water was in increasingly in short supply. Since then, it has rained, and rained. The once-parched fields and grassy areas are vibrant and lush again. In places, it’s almost as though the heatwave never happened. As the conditions have changed, the wildlife has begun to return too. Some are the usual a

There’s certainly been a shift in the weather this week. After what has felt like an endless stretch of dry, parched summer, a couple of days of torrential rain and one huge storm have brought back something I hadn't realised quite how much I'd missed: greenery. The hay-like grass is recovering, showing its sheer resilience. Sagging leaves are standing a little prouder and everything somehow looks brighter, as though the landscape has had a much-needed deep cleanse. Our back

The last week has, in large part, been filled with the fun and games associated with two lively six-year-old twins. First, we spent a day at Stockeld Park, exploring the Enchanted Forest, playing crazy golf and watching the boys race around on go-karts. There was also the maze. The boys dragged their dad into it against his better judgement, and we then spent around 45 minutes trying to find our way back out again. I'm not sure that did much to change his opinion of mazes! Th

After a hectic few weeks, my birthday week was a surprisingly quiet one. With the extreme heat keeping us largely indoors and in reach of aircon, by Friday we were more than ready to escape to the forest for a much-needed weekend of peace and relaxation. Our journey there was delayed, but as soon as we arrived, it ceased to matter. Standing on the decking of our cabin, looking out into the trees, the stresses of the journey melted away. Pine branches overhung the decking, bir

A year of growth, renewal and reconnection with the people and places that matter. A year ago, on the eve of my 50th birthday, we were at Sherwood Pines tracking a hummingbird hawk-moth. It was a rare sight then, and it had taken me 49 years and 364 days to see one. I remember the excitement of finding it, purely by coincidence, darting between the flowers, never staying still for long. This year, apparently, they are everywhere. Hot weather on the continent has brought unusu

There are moments that quietly mark the passing of time; moments you know you'll remember long after they've occurred. This week, one of those moments came at a local children's theme park rather than in a quiet woodland or alongside the river. "Auntie Carolynnnnnn!" I looked up just in time to see my six-year-old nephew hurtling earthwards on the pirate ship, his face filled with pure exhilaration as he proudly made sure I was watching. It made me smile, because of his obvio

There are some weeks when life unfolds exactly as you expect. This wasn't one of them. For several days this week, our five-year-old grandson came to stay again whilst his mum and dad enjoyed a well-earned break together. Like many grandparents, we have the privilege of seeing a different side of family life. We can set everything else aside and devote our time entirely to him, from the moment he wakes until the moment he falls asleep. Of course, life according to a five-year

Following an unexpected family visit over the weekend and a busy household, this week brought a very different kind of experience: silence. Our usual walks along the river felt strangely still, as though the birds had left or were keeping out of the heat. At Skipwith, all we saw was a lone roe deer fawn and cinnabar moth caterpillars greedily munching their way through the ragwort and few young chiffchaffs bathing quietly amongst the reeds near what was left of the flagship p

There are weeks when the landscape changes almost overnight. Over the last few days, the barley fields surrounding our home have been harvested. One day they stood tall, rippling gently in the breeze; the next they lay bare beneath a hazy summer sunset. The familiar scent of straw hangs heavy in the air, mixed with the fine dust of chaff that seems to settle on everything. Every year, as the combines roll through the fields, I know I'll spend a week or so feeling under the we

Sometimes I sit down to write my weekly blog convinced that I have nothing, or very little to say. This week brought no dramatic wildlife encounters, no significant milestones, or profound revelations. It was just an ordinary week of family visits, soaring temperatures, frustrating technology, and watching life unfold from the shaded side of the garden. Yet perhaps ordinary weeks have the most to teach us - if we're paying attention. Last weekend we spent time with family, en

Some weeks seem to gather themselves around a single idea, although you don't realise it until much later. This week, it was poppies. Only a few days earlier there was an occasional splash of scarlet along the lane where we walk daily towards the river. Then, almost overnight, they had appeared everywhere. Their bright red petals danced along the verges, gently swaying in the breeze and impossible to ignore against the green. When there were only a few they were easier to mis

This week has been one of contrasts. Whilst much of the country has been enjoying the hottest days of the year so far, I spent much of the week feeling decidedly under the weather. After being accidentally glutened on a day out last weekend, my body was asking for something very simple: rest. Instead, life had other ideas. An impending family visit this coming weekend triggered a familiar response. Suddenly there were jobs everywhere. The barbecue needed cleaning. The outdoor

Whilst thinking of ideas for my weekly blog, I was reflecting back on all I’ve seen over the last week. Nothing appeared to be extraordinary, except perhaps a dramatic sunset. Birds going about their business, nourishing their hungry chicks; a young deer loitering at the river’s edge; and a kestrel swooping low over a field before hovering patiently, awaiting the arrival of its next meal. House martins and swallows flitting, ducking and diving as they swoop just above the wat

Early last week, we walked along a familiar lane near home, where a long stretch of mature leylandii trees had been cut back heavily beneath power lines, leaving an unsettling silence. Where there had recently been movement, birdsong and nests hidden among dense branches, there was now open sky and piles of cut debris. Among the rubble were signs that not all the nests had survived. We have reported our concerns and are waiting to understand what happened, and why. Perhaps th

Since returning from our holiday last week, we noticed changes along the river, and several absences. The swans, once a regular presence, have disappeared after a failed nesting attempt, and the geese, goslings, mallards, and ducklings that were once impossible to miss are now nowhere to be seen. The bank swallows that had ducked and dived over the ponds have vanished. Many of the birds that had filled spring with movement, song, and activity seem suddenly absent. At first, i

The forest after rain: A call to slow down There’s a particular scent to a forest after rain. Fresh pine. Damp earth. Cool air settling quietly between the trees. The colours appearing more vibrant as though everything has been cleaned. This week in Glentress Forest, I’ve found myself noticing it more than usual. Not because I planned to slow down, but because my body insisted on it. Listening to our bodies: When nature demands rest After overdoing things slightly in Strathyr

During a week in Strathyre, surrounded by lochs, forests, and nestled between Ben Ledi and the hills of Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park, I was reminded that what appears peaceful from a distance is often full of life and movement beneath the surface. The landscape is utterly breathtaking, framed by pine forests and edged with an abundance of bluebells and other wildflowers. The gently lapping water reflects the hills and trees. The forest stretches into the distan

There’s something quietly revealing about a forest canopy. When one tree grows so large and dominant that it blocks most of the light beneath it, the forest floor changes around it. Nothing underneath grows freely anymore. Saplings lean sideways searching for light. Some become twisted around obstacles. Others remain stunted despite strong roots, whilst a few compete desperately for whatever light filters through. A few may appear to flourish because they sit closest to the c