I was out on an early dog walk this morning, hoping to spot a curlew or two, before I even realised that today is World Curlew Day.

As I walked and heard the familiar bubbling call that stops me in my tracks every time, I found myself reflecting on what it is about the curlew that holds such a special place in my heart.

To all the mothers, Wisdom of the Mother Oak is a tribute to your strength, love, and wisdom. Whether biological, adoptive, foster, stepmother, grandmother, spiritual, or a mother figure, motherhood comes in many forms, each equally special in its own beautiful way.

This tree holds a special place in my heart.

With her crooked branches, asymmetrical frame and irregular clumps of leaves. She is beautiful in her stoicism, damaged yet resilient. She lives on a slope in the field near my home, surrounded by other oaks, with a view of the windswept moor in the distance.

A tree can have strong roots, a healthy trunk, and all the potential to grow tall—but if the soil isn’t right, it struggles. The nutrients aren’t there. The foundation is unstable. It leans, weakens, and sometimes falls.
Doctors know this feeling all too well.

Books have a unique ability to change the way we see the world. They provide a space for reflection, open our minds to new perspectives, and offer solace when we need it most.

Nature is a masterclass in collaboration. A stunning film about two of my favourite local species from BBC Winterwatch recently got me thinking.

Otters and kingfishers are both river dwellers, yet not rivals. As otters glide through the water, they stir up fish, creating the perfect hunting opportunity for kingfishers.

Sometimes, when our minds feel tangled and stuck, sitting and / or staring at a screen only makes it harder to find answers.

Walking coaching offers a different approach—one that invites movement, fresh air, and gentle reflection.

Finding the light…

This is the solstice, the still point

of the sun, its cusp and midnight,

the year’s threshold

and unlocking, where the past

lets go of and becomes the future;

the place of caught breath, the door

of a vanished house left ajar.

Mary Oliver