This weekend I was going to write a blog about Gareth Southgate’s lecture or the quandary of whether, as an independent artist, I should put music on Spotify.
But as I sat at the keyboard I felt myself drawn to a fantastic little book that has been an inspiration to me so far this year. So this blog is about that book…
As January began I made the decision to try and take some intentional time to slow down. To truly see. To feel the pulse of the world beyond the relentless news cycle and the demands of my inbox. And having just very nearly completed an intense (and hugely fun and rewarding) one year contract it’s a conscious effort to find perspective, a gentle nudge to remember that life exists beyond the screen, beyond the headlines, beyond the tricksy concept of “moving up” the corporate ladder.
And my guide? The utterly captivating “Almanac: A Seasonal Guide to 2025” by Lia Leendertz.
Think of it as a beautifully crafted map to the year, a gentle hand leading us through the ever-shifting landscape of nature. It’s not just about dates and times; it’s about connection. It’s about charting the moon’s dance across the sky, reflecting on the thoughtful passages within its pages, and honestly gauging how my own feelings align with the rhythms of the season.
Each month brings a new star story, a glimpse into ancient myths woven into the constellations. There’s a monolith, a silent sentinel marking time, and, perhaps most excitingly in our house hold, a cake of the month.
For the Spring Equinox, the Almanac gifted me with the recipe for Welsh cakes. And so, armed with flour, currants, and a sense of adventure, I ventured up May Hill. The result? A perfectly golden, warm Welsh cake enjoyed amidst the fresh spring air, with a view that stretched across the rolling Gloucestershire countryside. (See the photo above for proof!)
This journey of seasonal awareness has become particularly poignant during a time of change. I find myself at a crossroads, pondering the next steps in my career and life goals. The constant hum of “what’s next?” can be overwhelming. But by stepping back, by tuning into some restorative practices, rooted in gentle curiosity, by intentionally observing the natural world, and spending time in prayer and meditation, I’m finding a sense of grounding and a sense of hopeful excitement.
Nature, in its quiet wisdom, offers subtle cues. The burgeoning buds, the warm air, the lengthening days – all speak of renewal, of growth, of possibilities. It’s a gentle reminder that change is inherent, that even in the midst of uncertainty, life continues to unfold, beautifully and inevitably.
The Almanac isn’t just a book; it’s a companion. It’s a reminder to look up, to look around, and to treat myself with compassion. It’s a gentle invitation to reconnect with the world around us, and in doing so, reconnect with ourselves.
How do the seasons impact your mood and energy? Let me know in the comments, I’d love to connect with you.
The World Outside the Window 