“Autumn is my favourite season. It murmurs at the edges of the last summer days, in gilded smoke curls and the scent of damp leaves, candle wax and fallen apples. The shift between summer and autumn is the most beautiful and bittersweet of the
“I once thought adventure required far horizons, but this year taught me otherwise. I walked the route I usually skim past on the morning bus and found a dozen kinds of magic so easily missed: conker husks split into pale velvet, rowan berries
“Folklore is sometimes painted as whimsy, yet it also carries a kind of ancestral memory. The apple tree asks for song and care. The witches stones invite reflection. The old stories ask that we look after each other and the creatures who share
“Spirit of place lives in both the seen and unseen; the path underfoot, the hush in the air, the tale whispered beside it. Each story, each footprint, helps us belong to the land, even as it changes. Long after trees are felled or stones topple