Finding Solace in Nature: Where I Go to Breathe

There’s something about being outside — the way the light hits the trees, the sound of birdsong, the feel of a breeze on my face — that reminds me to exhale.

I’ve always loved nature; however, in the last few years, it has really become my quiet place. Not in a dramatic, wild adventure sort of way… but in the slow, steady rhythm of dog walks, watching the seasons shift, or simply sitting and listening.

When the world (or my mind) feels loud, I go outside, even if just in my garden. It doesn’t fix everything, but it softens things. It gives me space to hear myself again.

Noticing the Small Things

It’s the little things that catch me.

When I’m in my garden, it’s often the tiniest bug crawling on a leaf, a new blossom just starting to open, a fruit beginning to form, or even the unexpected frog hopping across my path that pulls me into the moment. I love the feel of the soil in my hands — grounding me, connecting me back to the earth, and reminding me how close I really am to nature.

When I’m out walking the dogs, I’m not just getting from A to B — I’m arriving back into myself. The rhythm of my steps, the weight of the lead in my hand, the breeze on my skin… it all brings me back to the present. And in that stillness, I start to notice.

A squirrel darting up a tree. A bird of prey gliding silently across the sky. A spiderweb catching the light just so. These moments feel like small, quiet gifts — ones that make me pause, smile, and remember that being alive doesn’t have to be loud to be meaningful.

The Stories in the Trees

Sometimes I find myself standing beneath an old tree, and I can’t help but wonder what it’s seen in its lifetime.

Has it watched riders gallop across these fields on horseback, travelling from one village to another? Did it bear silent witness to highwaymen lurking in the shadows… or to families gathered for village celebrations long forgotten? Has it heard the sounds of war echo through the landscape, or felt the hush of peace return again?

If trees could speak our language, I think they’d tell the most incredible stories — ones we’ll never fully know.

And maybe that’s the point. There’s so much behind us we’ll never understand, and so much ahead of us we can’t predict. But nature reminds us, gently and often, that now is where life is happening. Right here. In the crunch of leaves underfoot, the rustle of branches, the presence of a curious robin watching from a fence post.

Now or Never

That’s what nature teaches me — to live in the now. Not the perfect moment. Not the someday.

Just now.

Living in the now means accepting that it’s okay to be imperfect, to be a beginner, or to struggle. It’s okay to not have everything figured out. What matters is showing up — starting where you are, with what you have, and letting the process of learning and growing unfold.

And maybe that’s why, after all the doubts and detours, I finally felt ready to relaunch this website.

Not because everything is perfectly polished, or because I suddenly became fearless… but because I realised I don’t want to keep waiting.

This past year, life has shown me how fragile time really is. I’ve lost people I cared about. I’ve watched others face impossible diagnoses with courage and dignity. And it’s been a quiet, sobering wake-up call: none of us are promised later.

So here I am — sharing my art, my journey, and the messy, beautiful process of becoming.

Thanks for joining me again on this crazy journey.

In life we all have to weather storms, but always remember - storms never last forever

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