Our engagements are no longer being led by our base feelings, instincts, or preferences, and even they themselves are being perpetually modified by what is fed to us. Re-curated each day by the endlessly morphing algorithms of our life feeds. The continued availability of communication, distraction, entertainment, also means there are no mental spaces left to fill. For our minds to wander, for organic thoughts to enter our brains, flourish, or bloom...

Winter opens such different vistas - landscapes once obscured, appear in different scale and detail, birds otherwise hidden amidst green canopies become suddenly and joyfully visible... On the forest side of the road, further evidence of autumn's resolution not to be forgotten, a sheltered tree clinging to its crop of bronzed leaves, the warm russet of the bracken like a woodland blanket against the icy air...

The dark invites us to fold inwards, to give ourselves time and grace for recovery and reflection, hunkered sleepily in a warm moment before the axis turns again. But January also holds a mystical …

The dark invites us to fold inwards, to give ourselves time and grace for recovery and reflection, hunkered sleepily in a warm moment before the axis turns again. But January also holds a mystical …

The dark invites us to fold inwards, to give ourselves time and grace for recovery and reflection, hunkered sleepily in a warm moment before the axis turns again. But January also holds a mystical …

The turning of the year is a crux, a mental turnstile…nature’s inertia pulls us to look inwards, allow ourselves acceptance, reflection, inspiration, from the stripped bare world…

The turning of the year is a crux, a mental turnstile...nature's inertia pulls us to look inwards, allow ourselves acceptance, reflection, inspiration, from the stripped bare world...

The turning of the year is a crux, a mental turnstile...nature's inertia pulls us to look inwards, allow ourselves acceptance, reflection, inspiration, from the stripped bare world...

To anyone else sitting amongst the Blackpool illuminations while every neighbour’s windowsill now displays a single well- polished bonsai tree: I see you….and I salute you.

Mornings like this one stir something deep in my senses, a slumbering winter goddess fashioned from shiny holly and wild air, smelling faintly of spiced hot-chocolate. Our view of the world, when we let our imaginations roam, unveils hidden shimmers in the deep blue unknown...

Mornings like this one stir something deep in my senses, a slumbering winter goddess fashioned from shiny holly and wild air, smelling faintly of spiced hot-chocolate. Our view of the world, when we let our imaginations roam, unveils hidden shimmers in the deep blue unknown...

There are tiny moments we can feast on, if we let them in. To Fortify. To Edify. To penetrate the mists of everyday and offer sweet and fleeting haven to our brains…

It was just me and that blackbird on the grey dawn street, and it looked straight at me and started to sing again. I can’t completely put into words the strange little swell of feeling that f…