It's harvest time. The festival of Lammas is coming this weekend, on 1st August. People who celebrate this old tradition will be giving thanks for their crops, whether physical or not. There will be circles around an array of foods, enjoying their full flavour and the accomplishment of growing them. It's a joyous occasion. And yet, I can't let go of the feeling that something is not right. The crops, while sweet as a sugar cube, are tiny and devoid of water. My garden is devo

Over the last eight years I have been looking after guests who visited our holiday let on the farm. The little, cosy, unique building that used to serve as an accommodation for hop pickers a few generations ago, was busy and loved. Holidays with dogs, Wedding nights, Birthday stays, Christmas hideout, even a Covid exile during the pandemic, the Hopper Hut did it all. Hopper Hut in summer Now she takes a deep breath. The door opens to new beginnings, to fragrant oils and incen

February has rushed in after the slowest month of the year. Suddenly we are over a week in and I am not sure what happened. There are...

Since my last blog the months tumbled down towards Autumn at incredible speed. April, May, June - still in our winter gear, then a brief...

The relentless rain has created a muddy quagmire in the chicken run. Nettle Garden's land is soaking wet and spongy underfoot. But all is...

Nettle Garden is a place for nature, her expression and healing, (however as I write this I had to chase a hen from my newly planted pot...