Helen Lehndorf

Tag: writing

  • 53 thoughts

    Hello. I know it’s Friday but instead of a ‘Slow-Small Media for the Weekend’ I want to share something else today.

    I’ve had a challenging couple of weeks so my usual ‘lovely things detection service’ have been a bit on hiatus.

    I hope to find my sea-legs and return to usual services next Friday but for now…

    …almost a month ago I turned 53. Not a very special age. Not very young but not very old either. Not a ‘big zero’ birthday. Just a middle-aged-woman kind of birthday.

    F and I went off-grid for two nights to a beautiful bush hut for a dip into nature and quiet. Trickling streams and ruru calls at night. It was lovely.

    My birthday fell on a Saturday this year and the sun came out for the day after weeks of very stormy and cold spring weather. The sun felt like such a big birthday present that day.

    Fraser went off for a walk and I poured a huge cup of tea and opened up my journal. I love using lists as a way into writing in my journal so I decided to set myself the (gentle) challenge of writing 53 thoughts for my birthday. At the outset, I didn’t have any sense of what might come…I just wrote quickly – hoping to get to 53 before Fraser returned.

    (Above: the hut had a kaitiaki with paua shell eyes.)

    I’ve decided to share the birthday list with you …not because it is especially edifying writing but because it is a snapshot of how wobbly and tender 53 feels; maybe it will be of some solace to you if you’re feeling wobbly and tender, too?

    Some of it will probably read like naff pop-psychology or hippy aphorisms. What can I say? Those things are inside me and it’s what poured out on the day. At the time of writing it was just from me to me.

    (I’m copying this from my journal. As I transcribe, I may ‘redact’ a few if they feel too specifically personal or mention my family)

    53 Birthday Thoughts

    1. Despite my challenges I am so grateful for my life.
    2. There is beauty to be found in each day. The task is to find it and attend to it.
    3. *redacted*
    4. *redacted*
    5. I forgive myself. I was doing the best at the time…or at least I was surviving.
    6. I forgive people who have hurt my heart. Not all friendships/associations are meant to last …people come and go. People are mysterious. I am mysterious. I have disappointed people. People have disappointed me. It is the way of things. Let go…..let go…. let go…
    7. Be more like a river.
    8. Be a river.
    9. We’re here to love. That’s it.
    10. No act of love is ever wasted.
    11. Try to adopt more of a ‘maybe’ attitude like the Chinese Farmer.
    12. Love is the bridge…even if long, slow and not resolved in this lifetime.
    13. I read somewhere about midlife, ‘Get better or get bitter.’ I want to get better.

    (Above: my unglamorous, sticking-plastered hand touching moss in the forest on that trip.)

    14. In a similar vein, if at midlife you have ‘ripened on the vine’ and you choose to become wine (sweet) or vinegar (sour).

    I choose wine.

    15. ‘It will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.’

    -John Lennon

    16. I tied a red thread around my wrist in August to remind me to stay awake to my life. It’s still there… although now faded and looking a bit manky.

    (oh my gosh 53 things is so many)

    17. Is there any sweeter experience than sitting still enough that a bird swoops past you, low and swift, and you can feel the fan of air from it’s wing’s beating? (The swallows nesting in the porch here just did that to me.)

    18. The 1990s (most of my twenties) feels a long time ago now. It didn’t used to.

    19. I just found a dried and beautiful cicada wing.

    20. The love in this hut is tangible. The energy of the family who built it having lots of good times over lots of years. (est. 1988)

    21. My soundtrack right now is rushing water, magpies and tui.

    22. We decided to bring just enough food so all weekend we are eating foil-wrapped potatoes cooked in ashes with lots of butter and salt.

    (Above: birthday breakfast at the hut)

    23. Happiness can be so simple if we let it.

    Simplicity = happiness.

    24. The satisfaction of elemental sensations: food in belly, sun on face, fireside gazing, hot coffee, good pillow, the sound of a river.

    + Sitting still long enough to let it soak in.

    25. We (humans) could have this every day but we love to complicate things.

    26. No internet = more time with mind = space to let thoughts meander and unfurl.

    27. When I feel dissatisfied with life, remember today.

    (Above: hut kitchen. Simple and good.)

    28. Being content is a decision…is active…

    29. Oh the neurotic, writerly, artist’s need to record things, capture, analyse, grasp at experience. (All the photographs I’ve taken. This list.)

    30. Eels nearby. This afternoon’s adventure.

    31. An almond-finger for birthday cake.

    32. Scottish oat cakes and tangy cheddar.

    33. Lagavulin whisky.

    34. We resisted the inclination to overpack and over-cater and that has increased my enjoyment of the weekend so much. (Chosen) scarcity can increase appreciation.

    35. That sounded a bit ascetic but it doesn’t feel in the least ascetic.

    36. F is walking up a very steep hill with his still-mending leg. Courage. Determination.

    37. The warmth of companionable silence.

    38. In every way, I have to fight my constant urge to add more.

    39. Evolution, devolution, evolution…

    (home stretch)

    40. We went off-grid for my 50th also. I can feel how much I’ve changed since then. Just a few years…but big such big years.

    41. Delayed gratification: I left my little pile of birthday gifts at home on the kitchen table to open on Sunday night.

    42. In my experience, time is a spiral.

    (Above: hut bathroom. (Yes, of course we did!))

    43. The vulnerability of birthdays. The vulnerability of spring.

    44. When all you want is less – what does that look like?

    45. Being okay with the things I thought I might do that I probably won’t do.

    46. Being okay with how it all transpired.

    47. Being okay with my own particular closet-skeletons.

    Understanding that everyone has them and it would be very unwise to ever wish for anyone else’s life but my own.

    48. Knowing that you never know what people are coping with, carrying, surviving or healing from.

    49. Knowing that sometimes people who appear incredibly fortunate from the outside can sometimes be tortured by their own minds…a personal hell…

    50. Knowing that this is why it is unwise to envy.

    51. Knowing that gratitude is a kind of super-power that can help with almost any problem.

    52. Knowing that choosing love is, more often than not, the right choice.

    53. Knowing mostly how little I know…& this is the nature of life’s ongoing mystery and the way to peace.

    *

    Lucky, lucky life!

    (Above: Crossing the log bridge.)

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #20

    (Above: a spiderweb in sunlight, September 20 2025, Ōtaki Gorge.)

    Last Saturday I turned 53. The above photograph was taken on my birthday. The sun came out!

    It’s been a crappy spring (weatherwise) so the sun felt like such a gift.

    I sat on the porch of the place I was staying and tried to read in the warmth…but the sun felt like such rich medicine I couldn’t hold my attention on my book and just kept closing my eyes and facing the sun like some kind of warmth-starved Tuatara.

    We were travelling light so my birthday cake was a supermarket almond finger (one of my faves) with a birthday candle and some dandelion petals:

    Article: Why is spring so hard?

    I find spring a challenging season so I was much heartened by this article answering this questions by one of my favourite writers, Juliet Batten.

    Juliet explores why spring can be a ‘bumpy’ season and reassures that it’s quite normal to find it difficult.

    A solace read.

    Carrying on with that question…an article: ‘The Cruelty of Spring and our Heartbreak at it’s Fickleness’

    This article on the ‘Examined Life’ website pulls some terrific examples from literature expanding on Juliet’s theme of spring being difficult.

    The website’s author, Ellen Vrana says:

    ‘There is life and birth and death in spring. There are lambs and rains and feasts and withdrawals, resurrections and divination.’

    Song for the week: ‘Near a Priory’ by Maxine Funke

    Any song which starts with the word ‘Granny’ is likely to get my attention.

    I like the breathy and minimalist style of New Zealand synth-folk artist Maxine Funke and this song is a sweetie:

    (You can listen to all twenty songs -I add a song every time I write a digest- on Youtube here.)

    Article: A frugal and lighthearted person talks about simple living for financial freedom

    I always read The Spinoff’s ‘Cost of Being’ series where people talk about their finances because I find it so fascinating. The way we approach money reveals so much about prorities, values and life circumstances.

    I particularly enjoyed this one.

    I immediately sent it to Fraser and said ‘this could be us!’…not so much her particular circumstances…but more her attitude. A little bit broke (compared to many) but with a resilient, light-hearted, resourceful attitude.

    This bit sounded very much like our household:

    Typical weekly food costs

    Groceries: I have no idea but it’s not much. A lot of my work involves food rescue and making community kai, so I’m always taking food home. I also grow most of my veges, and have excellent fossicking and scrounging skills!

    A lively read and helped refresh my own commitment to simple living.

    Affordable Art: ‘Resist’ by Bread and Puppet Theatre, Vermont, USA

    (Above: nothing says ‘resist!’ like weeds which will grow in cracks in the concrete. Image borrowed from Bread and Puppet Press.)

    I love dandelions. I love resistance. I love the work of the Bread and Puppet Theatre. I love this postcard and it comes in at a mere $6.00

    (& Possibly once you add postage it would be close to $50 NZD, the cut off price for ‘affordable art’…)

    A long and fascinating delve into the luddite movement

    Speaking of voluntary simplicity, my pen-friend and Wizard of Wellington, Rosie Whinray, published a long, well-researched, fascinating and fun article about the Luddites: ‘Summoning Ned Lud’.

    It’s not just about the Luddites, of course, it’s about time and labour and music and materiality and injustice and autonomy and so much more.

    Make yourself a POT of tea and sit and read this. It will take more than one cup of tea because it has various links to music and interviews on YouTube and no doubt you’ll want to savour them all.

    Thanks for another stellar read, Rosie!

    Video> ‘Life is never still’: an inspiring 92-year-old artist and writer shows us all how to live

    From the description:

    ‘His vibrant paintings burst with dramatic light and dark, playing with colour and drawing upon his Caribbean heritage. He powerfully captures the energy of Trinidadian carnival culture, folklore, and the cathartic power that the celebration holds.

    Join us for an intimate look inside his studio, writing shed, and kitchen, and experience his unique creative process that blends painting, poetry, cooking – and most importantly – love. Learn why mistakes are essential, why stepping away can spark inspiration, and how collecting objects can fuel new ideas.’

    He’s an absolute joy! You won’t regret spending 12 minutes watching his cruise through his day.

    That’s it for the week’s digest. This weekend I am hoping the weather will permit gardening. I have letters to write, mending to attend to, a new stack of library books to hang out with.

    My nettle patch is coming back to life so I’ve been making simple nettle soups and will make it again this weekend.

    I also bought a bottle of vodka so I can make some lemonbalm tincture with the new season’s lemonbalm; it always feels at most potent in spring to me…the leaves bright green and shiny. Lemonbalm is good for stress and anxiety, is known for being a ‘gladdening’ herb. (Now there’s a sweet old-fashioned word.) Read more about it here.

    I hope there are ‘gladdening’ things in your weekend.

    Thanks for being here and sharing the things that I caught in my net this week.

    x Helen

  • Writer Carly Thomas on ‘The Last Muster’

    (Above: Me (on left) and Carly Thomas cracking each other up at her 11 October 2024 book launch at the Palmerston North City Library.)

    Almost a year ago, I interviewed writer Carly Thomas live as part of her book launch event at the Palmerston North City Library. I don’t recall the specifics of the conversation but I do remember there was a lot of laughter. Carly is very funny. Also, very self-deprecating.

    I kept insisting she was courageous, intrepid, fearless and she kept batting such suggestions away. She’s a very humble person. In winter, I invited her to be my second slow interviewee. These interviews take place via email exchanges in an unhurried way. The first one was with writer Iona Winter.

    I wanted to check in with Carly a year out from the publication of ‘The Last Muster’: A nostalgic journey into New Zealand’s High Country.’

    H: Congratulations on the publication of your book! & Thanks for inviting me to help you launch it. That was a great night. 

    Can you tell me a bit about your (very impressive) research trips for this book… you did a kind of ‘action research’ where you joined the mustering gangs. I reckon that was so brave!

    C: The launch was so neat and you were a big part of that so a massive thanks to you, Helen. It all seems like a long time ago.

    Writing a book is a funny old thing, it is all consuming and then it is done. It feels like you have been out at sea, in the thick of storms and intense sunshine and then you come ashore and the tide comes in and it goes out and all is calm. That sounds depressing but it’s not, it’s just there’s a lull, a pause, and then an in-between afterwards. 

    I knew straight away that I would go and work alongside the people I was writing about. I started ringing and emailing high country stations that I had already had contact with through previous writing gigs. It took a few calls before I figured out how to communicate what exactly it was that I was doing. It became apparent that I needed to head south for the Autumn weaning musters quickly and so I got straight into getting down there.

    I’d read up a bit on each station I was going to, but not in depth, that would come later. I like to go into things a bit naive. I figure that asking stupid questions is better than assuming you already know, so I did a lot of that. I learnt as I went, was given ideas on where to go next and in that semi-informed/ follow-my-nose style I got passed onto musters. 

    I didn’t have a big planned out map of things, I really just took whatever next turn presented itself. I started down in Glenorchy at Greenstone Station and was well and truly thrown in the deep end on a four day muster with a motley crew of shepherds. After that the ball was rolling – I’d finish a muster, chuck my muddy saddle and gear in the car and head to the next one. Word got out about what I was doing and it got easier to get on the musters. I was learning skills as I went and got more handy as I went.

    My tools for capturing everything were my phone recorder/ camera/ notes, my big Sony camera (not at all fancy) and my memory for conversations. People would say great stuff, as I was riding along trying to keep a bunch of unruly cattle in line, and I would have to remember it until I could do a voice memo of what they said. It was full on and it took my ADHD multitasking superpowers to a new level. 

    I’d do dumps of writing notes when I could, when I had a day or two in between musters, but not a lot of writing happened till I got home. There was a lot of writing in my head on long car journeys. I would try to hold onto each station’s colours, tone, sound, smell, taste and hum. When I did get to sit down, those were the first words to go down, then I got to the long and arduous job of transcribing.

    Research came last, which I guess is a bit round-the-other-way from what some writers do. As I was travelling about I would try to go to local libraries to find historical tales of the area and old mustering yarns. I also collected a pretty big haul of old New Zealand mustering books from the many secondhand bookshops and op-shops I visited on my travels. Once back home I trawled through online archives and libraries to collect up old stories and facts. I went down massive rabbit holes.

    One particular moment of connection was when I was trying to find the history of a particular homestead that had been abandoned on a station. I was coming up against dead ends and in frustration I called a tiny community library opened once a week by volunteers. As I was on the phone to the woman in charge that day who was telling me “just the person I should talk to was…..”, she paused and then said, “you won’t believe this, but she just walked in the door”.

    The particular 90-something-year-old who was the missing link to the information I really needed was put onto the phone. It was magic. She told me things that were not written anywhere and could have been lost if she hadn’t stepped in right then. I just love that sort of thing and there really is something special about these encounters. 

    The whole book writing process was a combination of high adventure, a saddle-sore body, sleep deprivation, many kilometres on my little nana car’s clock and wondering where I would land next and spending hours researching in drafty libraries or sitting on my couch with a cat, a cup of tea and books piled high around me. I am a contrary soul and I enjoy both of those things equally. 

    H: Writing a book is so different from having a book published, isn’t it? 

    Yes, it really is and I think the main thing for me, this being my first experience of working with a big publisher, was knowing this project was bigger than me. I had to trust my publisher and editor and I took the opportunity to just say “yes” and be more open than I have ever been. It wasn’t just my book, it had many people involved, the most important part being all the people I encountered on the journey, who trusted me with their stories and way of life. It’s a responsibility to take care, while also telling it like it is.

    And then it’s done, the final proof is FINAL and the printers crank into gear. And then you have to let it go, into the open, out into the world, into the hands of others. 

    The tide goes out, I take the dog for a walk, I look at the hills with new eyes and I wonder, ‘what’s next?’.

    H: What did you learn about the horse mustering community over the course of writing the book? Did anything surprise you? 

    Every station was different but a few things were always the same. They love their horses and will always have them in their front paddock no matter what. They are people who choose horses over machinery to get the stock work done and that made them a certain kind of person. Horses may be a slower way of doing things, in some respects, but they are a quieter and kinder way to work stock. Stations that use horses tend to care about their animals, enjoy a slower, older way and there’s also a romance to it all as well.

    The way you see things on a horse, the chats along the way possible without the roar of a bike and the relationship you have with your horse. So yeah, they were a certain type, often a little quirky and more often very stubborn about their way of life. And they all knew each other, the connections ran very deep. 

    I was sometimes surprised by their openness in having me along. Their honesty and their passion to really help me to understand what it all means to them. Sure, there were plenty of tight lipped cowboys, but I also experienced real moments of truth and authenticity. 

    (Above: writer Carly Thomas on horseback.)

    H: Do you want to share a favourite moment from your travels with us? 

    That’s got to be on Pitt Island on a day off from mustering the cattle and doing yard work. Me and the two kids from the family I was staying with went for a windy adventure with them leading the way. They proudly showed me the very steep cliff drop-off where they weren’t supposed to go, the quick (and very scary!) way down to the beach and the wharf and the old shearing shed retired back when wool prices dropped to pretty much nothing.

    I was told the names of birds and horses and paddocks and we arrived back hungry, windswept and grinning. Brilliant day! 

    H: What have you been reading lately? Can you recommend a few recent reads? 

    Oh so many good books lately! I have discovered a New Zealand author, Fiona Sussman and now her book Addressed to Greta is a favourite. The main character Greta is one of those memorable ones that you fall in love with.

    I have also become a  little obsessed with Elif Shafak, a Turkish writer who wrote There are rivers in the sky. It’s an epic story told over different decades and cultures. A must-read I’d say.

    Oh and The Homemade God by Rachel Joyce. I love a good complicated family dynamic story and this is a goodie. 

    H: Thanks heaps for doing a slow interview with me, Carly. I hope there are lots of horsey good times in your summer.

    C: Thanks mate!

    *

    Carly is already deep in her next project. It’s an ongoing project to capture the stories of Aotearoa’s rural elderly called Landlines.

    Check out their first short film:

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #18

    (Above: a tiny posy of small flowers from the garden: forget-me-not, pansies, calendula, & marigold.) )

    Hello!

    Another week of our lives has passed since the last time you were here…indulging me by reading my collected nonsense.

    How was your week? Did you have time to look at the sky for a while? Read a good book? Wear something that makes you feel excellent and utterly yourself? Did you drink enough cups of tea?

    If not, make yourself one now and settle in for some slow-small media imbibing…

    The joy of simple well-made things

    I write this from beside our fire. It’s stormy outside and today’s high is 12 degrees. The fire is just over a year old. We had it put in when our 1980s gas fire was condemned by the gas inspector. He recommended a heat pump. We did this instead and have not regretted the decision for even a second.

    The fire was made in New Zealand in a business in the Hawke’s Bay. The fire feels like a new member of the family and staring into her depths has given me many happy moments.

    (Above: our little fire with the morning sun on her.)

    When I was in Taupō last weekend, I upgraded our poker to a lovely hand made one from a metalsmith at the local Sunday morning market. I took a photo of him brandishing the poker at the market because he was a lovely chap and I am a nerd for the provenance of handmade things:

    (Above: The maker of our new poker. He didn’t make the hooks on display but he did make the poker.)

    Speaking of woodstoves, last week I stumbled on the YouTube account of Homewood Stoves, another NZ-made wood fire business – this time based near Whangarei.

    Their videos are full of wholesome and homey videos featuring their beautiful homes, gorgeous kids and lovely kitchen…it’s peak #cottagecore content but in a NZ context. Very soothing viewing for a rattled nervous system. Which leads me to today’s recipe…

    How to start a ginger bug for homemade ginger beer

    Also on the Homewood Stoves channel, this aesthetically-pleasing and slow method video has really inspired me to brew up some ginger beer this summer.

    This is a very helpful and nicely made video.

    & I have kitchen-envy! >>

    Poetry: A bit of Mary Oliver balm for another hard news week

    On Thursday, I had a really long work day and was ‘head down, bum up’ all day so didn’t catch any news. When I finally knocked off, Fraser mentioned it had been a big news day in terms of global events and laid it all out for me. (I won’t rake it over here because it’s not Slow-Small-Media suitable… ) but again I was struck how, in these turbulent times, you can be offline just for a day and then plug back in and find the world has been through the wringer again…in new and newly-awful ways.

    To that end, I feel this week we need one of the big guns of solace poetry…so here’s an excerpt from Mary Oliver’s ‘In Blackwater Woods’ (read the whole poem here):

    Here she is on love and the necessity of detachment as part of that love:

    ‘To live in this world

    you must be able
    to do three things:
    to love what is mortal;
    to hold it

    against your bones knowing
    your own life depends on it;
    and, when the time comes to let it go,
    to let it go.’

    A song for the week: ‘So Free’ by Lūka, & Mose

    I appreciate every season…however, at this stage of late winter/crappy spring, I can’t help but begin to yearn for summer.

    This newish song by Lūka & Mose gives me that spacious and bright summer-road-trip feeling…even on this stormy day.

    I can tell I’ll be playing it a lot this summer:

    (You can listen to all of the Slow-Small Media songs over on YouTube here. I add one song every time I write a new edition of this digest.)

    Affordable Art : the Tea Frog you probably don’t need at all but might make you smile

    Oh, hi:

    (Above: image borrowed from the IkoIko website.)

    Look, I know nobody needs this ridiculous object…but how much fun, hey? )(+ Who ever went into IkoIko looking for something they needed?)

    This little guy is $33 so he falls well within the affordable art budget of $50.

    Is it ‘art’ though? I imagine you asking… I’d argue it makes having a cup of tea more artful…and so yes, he qualifies.

    A short list of ‘sacred gifts’, from Alex Klingenberg

    Returning to the topic of regulating the nervous system after feeling rattled by the noise of the world… this short article by Alex Klingenberg invites us to consider what we have to give in this moment, what our ‘sacred gifts’ are.

    I particularly like this excerpt. As I read the list below, I think about how I can bring these qualities into my relationships, my family, my friendships.

    Does my being in my presence leave people a little uplifted? I hope so.

    Sacred Gifts of Being:

    • Presence – showing up fully to the moment.
    • Attention – the act of noticing, listening, and honoring.
    • Wonder – the childlike awe that keeps the world alive.
    • Stillness – the capacity to rest, pause, and make space.
    • Resilience – carrying light through difficulty.
    • Gratitude – choosing to see abundance and say thank you.

    The article is gentle and thoughtful; I felt a little steadier after reading it.

    (Hat tip for this link to Thousand Shades of Gray who also does a regular digest which I really enjoy and find a lot of good reads from.)

    An artist who embraced the slow art of sewing after an illness

    Speaking of gratitude and presence, this is a lovely watch. Louise Watson had to give up her teaching career after illness. Now, she lives more slowly and has begun and nature-based art practice as part of her new, slowed-down life:

    & That’s a wrap for this week’s sharing.

    This weekend I’ve been invited to a friend’s house for the inaugural paella in her new (from the op shop) paella pan; I’m going to be sharing early birthday cake with some fellow September-birthday friends and I’m going to a Sika Sound Journey as he’s passing through town. This will be my fifth time going to a Sika journey. I’ve been twice at yoga/kirtan camps and twice here in my home town. It’s always worth it. Transporting!

    Sika often starts his journeys with the repeated phrase:

    ‘you are leaving time…you are leaving time…you are leaving time…’

    I hope you can find some moments of presence, attention, wonder, stillness, resilience and gratitude this weekend and also maybe ‘leave time‘ for a little bit.

    Much love.

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #17

    (Above: PN’s Te Manawa Museum currently has an exhibition about sunshine and light. Here I am playing with my shadow in the light box.)

    Song for the week: Just George ‘Lungs’

    This local tune is by my friend Abi Symes. I’m proud to have a little connection to this song, all about the overwhelming nature of grief, because Abi wrote it after we had a conversation about the physicality of grief. Abi got a bad lung infection after going through multiple griefs in quick succession and I told them that in Traditional Chinese Medicine, the lungs are an organ where grief is felt.

    Abi sent me the song and I felt all tingly at the way, as creative people, we can cross-pollinate each other without even intending to. I love the song and I love Abi.

    (I add one song every time I compile this digest. You can enjoy the whole playlist on Youtube here.)

    Be careful, this video may turn you into a total bird nerd

    I loved everything about this little clip from Gardening Australia: the birds, the Australian native plants…but mostly, the enthusiasm and nerdy citizen-science of the sweet, sweet couple who are developing the bird garden. They gave me a deep case of ‘elder couple goals’ for me and F.

    Watch this and then tell me people aren’t good:

    A fun spring challenge: can you find enough edible flowers to make a ‘fairy salad’?

    (Above: my fairy salad – all of this was growing in the garden.)

    Spring in the Manawatū is pretty horrid. Squally winds, sudden temperature drops, weather that goes from warm to icy within the same outing…leaving me in the wrong clothing…all uncomfortable and cross.

    It’s been like that all week….then on Wednesday…there was a brief reprieve and the sun came out. The garden was still. I could hear the tūi. I could hear my own thoughts.

    I grabbed the sun-window to play in the garden and I made a fairy salad from edible flowers.

    Read all about it, including the recipe for the dressing, over on my Substack.

    (btw, I’m still not sure about writing in two places. Here and Substack. I thought I’d do it for a year and then reassess. Do you have any opinions? I’d love to hear them in the comments.)

    Affordable Art*: ‘Forage’ vase

    (Above: image of the ‘forage’ vase from Jilly Jam Pots borrwed from Felt)

    At just $48, I think this vase is such good value. Handmade, rustic, interesting, very original. The inside is glazed to hold water for the little stems you have foraged from around the place. I love it – so simple and eye-catching. The maker, jilly jam pots, has lots of other goodness in their shop, too, including this little vase that looks like a lotus pod. So good.

    (*To qualify as ‘affordable art’, the item needs to be less than $50 NZD. Let me know if you’ve spotted anything around the internet you think people might enjoy and I’ll share it.)

    Rest in power, Kelly Ana Morey

    As a Gen-X NZ writer, I was shocked and saddened to hear of the death of Kelly Ana Morey.

    Kelly is iconic among my generation of NZ writers. Punky, fierce, funny, no-bullshit, straight from the hip, generous, strong sense of justice and of course, a brilliant writer who didn’t get enough kudos and celebration.

    As my FB feed filled with tributes and lamentations, I was again filled with that deep sense of life is so short and random.

    Tell people you appreciate them now. If people cross your mind – get in touch and tell them you were thinking of them.

    Tell a creaky, broke, vulnerable NZ artist that you love their work TODAY. Or if you can’t be bothered doing that, give them $20 via their online begging bowls or maybe, buy one their creative efforts.

    It’s hard being an artist in NZ:

    “This fucking stupid milk-loving piece of shit dumbass mean-spirited sale at Briscoes racist sexist 40% off deck furniture piss country.”

    as Hera Lindsay Bird once tweeted. (Also iconic.)

    A poem: ‘After Work’ by Gary Snyder

    I love Gary Snyder. Especially this book.

    This week’s poem, ‘After Work’ I thought would be a good one as we (in NZ) leave winter…

    It’s simple, it’s erotic, it’s amusing.

    The stew simmering on the fire is not the only thing simmering.

    & it reflects his Zen-eyes. 

    After Work

    The shack and a few trees
    float in the blowing fog

    I pull out your blouse,
    warm my cold hands
         on your breasts.
    you laugh and shudder
    peeling garlic by the 
         hot iron stove.
    bring in the axe, the rake,
    the wood

    we'll lean on the wall
    against each other
    stew simmering on the fire
    as it grows dark
                drinking wine.

    *

    I think that’s all I have to share this week, friends. Soon we are driving up the Desert Road to visit my folks. I’m hoping there will be snow so we can have a snowball fight and I can take photographs of icicles.

    (I have a poem which mentions the Desert Road.)

    + Happy Fathers Day to all the good Dads in the world…and may the not-good Dads be forgiven so their offspring can find peace in their hearts.

    If I don’t blow away in these horrible spring blusters…I will see you here again next week.

    x Helen

  • My ‘Verb Home-based Writers Residency’ begins this week

    Above: my big old monster of a desk.

    I bought my monster desk from the Wellington Central Salvation Army op-shop in 1999 – the year I was studying creative writing full-time.

    I think at the time I felt I needed a serious desk to be a serious writer.

    When I got it home, it had old papers in the drawers from the Ministry of Education so I guess that’s where it spent the first part of it’s working life?

    It’s huge and heavy and more than once when we’ve moved house we’ve had to take doors off their hinges to get it inside.

    It’s heavy and daft…and I still love it, twenty-five years on.

    *

    I share this picture of my home working space because for the next three weeks, I’m one of two inaugural Verb Home-Based Writing Residents!

    Having begun my home-based residency, I want to publicly applaud Verb for their forward-thinking, compassion and generosity in establishing this (sadly) unique opportunity for writers who have circumstances which make applying for away-from-home artist residencies from challenging to impossible.

    When I first saw the advertisement for the home-based residency, I felt so very moved and so happy for our NZ writing community. I know so many writers for whom travelling to writing opportunities is outside what is possible in their lives.

    This home-based residency acknowledges and honours the unique challenges of disability, of care work and of care load.

    More than anything else, it gives visibility to a strata of creatives who often feel invisible, unseen and unsupported. I know that while I have done my very best to keep my creative work alive it has often felt like swimming upstream of the demands of my life.

    (Btw, If you don’t know me well enough to know what my circumstances are, I have an adult son (he’s 20) with autism and I am his main carer. I do my writing work around his care.)

    I also wish to thank Verb for generously deciding to award two residencies in this inaugural year. They advertised for one and after considering the applications, awarded two. How marvellous, hey?

    My fellow ‘at-home’ resident is the brilliant Henrietta Bollinger. Do go and read Henrietta’s book. It’s smart, fierce and very funny.

    So here I sit, at home at the monster desk as usual…but with the warmest feeling of support, visibility and with large swells of gratitude.

    Thank you so much, Verb.

  • Slow-Small Media for the Week #15

    (Above: resident garden Buddha at the bach I stayed in at Ōtaki.)

    I’m back from my residency in Ōtaki.

    How was it? 

    Well, all these things are true at once: 

    It was a wonderful experience. Parts of it were challenging. I got sick. Woke up sick on the first morning. A nasty dose of ‘flu – fevers, sweats, body aches, etc. I managed to do all of my public-facing things but I did not manage to sparkle. I’m a bit sad that I was a depleted version of myself when I was so keen to converse and connect. I was too sick to catch up with my local friends. The beach was stunning. The beach was my new best friend. The cottage I was housed in was wonderful. simple, sweet, one block from the beach. The organisers of the residency are warm, generous, kind people. Once my eyes stopped stinging and streaming, I read a lot. I did not manage to work on my manuscript…too ill to be generative or analytical. I did keep a journal about the whole experience so maybe there’s something in there? Or possibly it’s a load of feverish waffle. I can’t face looking at it right now but will crack it open when I’m all the way recovered and fully landed back in normal life. It was weird. It was confusing. It was perfect.

    Does that give you a sense of how it went?

    Aaah life, hey? Let’s get into today’s digest…

    Some tools for the ‘pointy end’ of winter 

    Next week,  I’ll be sharing an interview with you with Iona Winter about her new book, ‘Counter of Moons’ where we talk a bit about finding help when life gets overwhelming. 

    Here, from Pip Lincolne, all round sensible person and excellent advice giver, is

    Ten ways to help a friend when they are sad or struggling

    I know I go quiet when I’m feeling overwhelmed and I observe that many friends do, too. 

    Let’s try to be there for each other…even when it feels hard. 

    A recipe for a very weedy pie: ‘Hortopita’ 

    Last week in Ōtaki, I chatted all things winter forage-able weeds with some lovely locals in the beautiful Ōtaki library. (We had planned to do a foraging walk in a near-by park, but rain stopped play so we talked weeds indoors in the warm and dry.) 

    In every season, something in nature is thriving, and winter is great for fresh, bright green greens, well-watered from all the rain. Here is a recipe which calls for 11 cups of weeds! It’s a wild weeds version of spanokopita, ‘Hortopita’. 

    Hortopita (Weedy Spanakopita)

    What a great way to get a big dose of wild greens into your belly!

    This week’s song: Song of the Siren by Tim Buckley 

    The first version of this song that I knew was the famous This Mortal Coil version. Somehow I totally missed the fact that it was a cover! 

    I stumbled over the original version via YouTube. At first it sounded so wrong to me…but after a few listens, I really like it. 

    I know the This Mortal Coil version so well, it’s sort of like I can hear both versions concurrently as I listen. 

    (I add one song each week to the Slow Small Media playlist over on Youtube. Here’s the whole playlist so far.)

    This week’s poem

    is by Therese Lloyd, from her 2018 book, The Facts

    I think a lot about food as love and food as care because I’ve had 25 years of cooking for a family.

    I like the simplicity and poignancy of this poem about a small moment of a food offering spurned.

    (+ Lehndorf-trivia: I flatted with Therese when we were in our 20s. Back then we were part of a performance poetry group called ‘Poetry For Real’.) 

    By Sunday

    You refused the grapefruit

    I carefully prepared

    Serrated knife is best

    less tearing, less waste

    To sever the flesh from the sinew

    the chambers where God grew this fruit

    the home of the sun, that is

    A delicate shimmer of sugar

    and perfect grapefruit sized bowl

    and you said, no, God, no

    I deflated a little

    and was surprised by that

    What do we do when we serve?

    Offer little things 

    as stand-ins for ourselves

    All of us here

    women standing to attention

    knives and love in our hands

    Affordable art: original moka pot linoprint

    We have a big espresso machine. F is a coffee aficionado and roasts our coffee. Coffee is a big part of our daily ritual. 

    When I got home F surprised me by telling me that while I was away he didn’t turn on the big noisy coffee beast and just made stove top for himself each morning. 

    Stove top is what we used to have before we had fancy espresso machines and it’s what we have when traveling. 

    There’s something so handsome about the classic Bialetti moka pot and it has so many warm associations for me.

    So this week’s affordable art (so affordable! $30!) is this simple, charming linoprint of a moka pot by Waikato based maker ‘Stich and Whimsy’ on Felt. 

    (Above: photo of linoprint is borrowed from Felt.)

    ‘Tansy cakes, Fiddleheads & Sea Rocket’ 

    I do love a deep dive into a very niche area of interest and that’s what this article by Faythe Levine is.

    I’ve followed Faythe’s creative life since falling in love with her film ‘Handmade Nation’ 16 years ago! (I was part of that wave of renaissance of handmade things and used to make a bit of money selling at Indie Craft Fairs. It was a huge and exciting scene at the time. It’s hard to convey the unique vibe of those first fairs now but at the time they were very fresh and exciting.)

    In the article, Faythe finds a very charming hand-illustrated book at a second hand shop and then follows her enamouredness into a research side-road.

    The book she finds is charming, Faythe’s writing is so good, the whole premise is very entertaining. 

    ‘The Candy Factory’ – a charming short film

    I can’t find the words to express how beautiful this film is so just, please, trust me and watch it. (Content warning: heartbreak.)

    *

    OK, that’s the digest for this week. Did you miss it last week? & If you’ve read or watched or listened to anything you think I might like, please share in the comments.

    Last night I got my 100th subscriber on Substack which is so lovely. If you didn’t know, I write over there about permaculture, radical reciprocity, attempts to live in gift economy, voluntary simplicity, permaculture, foraging & more. I’m still finding my way there, to be honest…but trying not to apply feelings of urgency to things that don’t really need it.

    This weekend I am going to:

    continue getting better, clean! (house is looking a bit end-of-winter-ish), in the garden, all my rocket is ready at once so I might make a rocket pesto, read more of this book and I’ve been doing some Japanese-inspired visible mending of pants…so I might carry on with that. It’s slow work but looks so great.

    Warmest weekendy wishes to you,

    Helen x

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #11

    (Above: a blazing nasturtium in the vege garden. I’m grateful for their bright faces on these gloomy winter days.)

    I bring this to you from a late-afternoon energy lull. Does anyone reading suffer insomnia? 

    Over the last month, I’ve been wrangling with insomnia which hasn’t been much fun. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know. (Currently at bedtime, I take a valerian/hops/passionflower potion and rub my feet and legs with Magnesium oil which used to work a treat but recently, not so much.) 

    Enough about me! how are you?

    Here’s a bunch of random good things for your weekend: 

    A sweet poem

    I have a surname that people frequently struggle to spell, but it’s not as intense as the surname of this week’s poet, Amy Nezhukumatathil. Amy’s work is sensuous, at times humorous, she knows the natural world and writes it with great attention. I very much recommend her poetry.

    But this week’s poem is slightly different from her usual style. It’s a found poem which is comprised of fragments of letters from high school students who are studying her poetry for their exams. (Note the misspelling of her name in the poem’s title.) 

    It’s affectionate and funny. I could feel the collective stress of the poor students rising up off the words. 

    A beautifully-written essay about a painful subject

    Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been very much enjoying reading through the essays and articles on the Substack of the Wizard of Wellington, Rosie Whinray. 

    You didn’t know Wellington had a wizard? 

    Well, that’s because unlike the Wizard of Christchurch -who is mainly a satirical figure- Rosie is a real wizard…although she would never make that distinction (‘real’) herself. 

    Real wizards are very modest. 

    Rosie has written a beautiful, meandering, thoughtful, honest essay called Precariat Blues about the pain of losing her latest home (another rental sold out from under her) and about precariat housing (and living) generally. 

    From Rosie’s essay:

    ‘Chop wood, carry water, by all means dig. But if you rent, I would advise applying your effort to things you can carry with you when you go. Never forget that you stand to lose your labour. Human ingenuity is bonsai’d by the learned helplessness of tenancy. This pinching out of side-shoots is maybe the greatest tragedy of what renting does to a person’s soul.’

    Because she’s a real wizard, she makes a very sad subject beautiful. You’ll read it and possibly  feel sad, mad, bad, but also so glad that you read it…because it really is phenomenal writing. 

    I really hope Rosie publishes a book of her essays one day. 

    Affordable Art

    In this week’s affordable art is these striking sgraffito ceramic birds by Borrowed Earth 

    They cost $45 (our budget for ‘affordable art’ cuts off at $50) and there are five different designs. 

    (Above: Photo borrowed from Little Beehive Co website.)

    One would be beautiful…or if you have more than $50 to spend on art, you could have a pair…or a flock! They’re like a contemporary take on the classic flying duck wall ornaments. 

    Music

    The addition to the slow-evolving ‘Slow-Small Media’ playlist over on YouTube this week is not just one song but a whole record; it’s Ben Harper playing his 2020 album ‘Winter is for Lovers’ live in his music room. 

    This live version has a vibrant, compelling quality. Plus, if you’re watching as well as listening, it’s soothing to watch Ben noodling away in his music room surrounded by his beloved musical instruments. 

    In the kitchen: three ways to eat onion weed

    Did you know you can eat onion weed? It’s particularly succulent and good in winter and spring in New Zealand and it’s SO easy to find….a ‘Foraging 101’ kind of plant.

    Here’s a beautifully-produced video from local weeds-loving, vegan chef Anna Valentine on four ways with onion weed.

    She shares a mayonnaise, a super salt, a salad and a tempura which use the bulbs, stems and flowers of onion weed.

    An article about the world of miniatures

    There’s something so hugely compelling about tiny things. 

    Once, a friend bought me a miniature bok choy plant made of resin because ‘I knew you’d love it’. She was right, I do. 

    I bought my Mum a miniature Victorian copper kettle for her recent birthday because I knew she’d love it. She does. It’s now sitting on her dresser. 

    Here’s an interesting NPR article about the world of miniatures. 

    I googled where to buy cute miniature things in New Zealand. I’ve always dreamed of having a green Aga stove and from the In Miniatures shop, I could have one for just $29.00. 

    & something very, very, very silly to finish

    Last night I had insomnia so after lying in bed staring into the dark for two hours, I eventually gave up on trying to sleep, lit the fire and opened Youtube. 

    The first thing the YouTube algorithm suggested was a video where comedian crafter,  Ash Bentley, knits herself a ‘cursed outfit’. I was skeptical, but also wired and tired so I watched and, oh my goodness, it is worth watching Ash’s reveal of her cursed crafting effort. 

    The video is almost an hour long but -unless you have an interest in watching Ash figure out how to knit all the components- just do as I did and watch her introduction and then skip through to 52 minutes in for the big reveal. Now, imagine watching it in the subterranean state of an early insomniac morning. 

    Trust me, it’s worth it. It’s a horror and she’s a crack-up. 

    (Given I mostly watch foraging, permaculture and ‘slow life’ Youtube, I have no idea why YouTube suggested this to me…but I’m not mad about it.) Gosh, I love a silly side-quest.

    *

    The weekend ahead: I’m trying to do something of a midwinter-clean, like a spring clean but in winter. My fantasy is that we won’t need to spring clean because I’m going to do so much over July and August that I will land in September all sorted and fresh. Clearly the kind of thing us Virgos daydream about. In spring I’d rather be in the garden than in the house.

    At the moment, this looks like a pile of boxes and supermarket bags in the hallway floor spilling over with the recently-culled.

    If I have friends visiting while such piles are lying about, I always invite them to mooch the op shop pile before it heads off to the op shop. Already I’ve re-homed some clothes and some books. Happy friends and less for me to cart to the op shop. Hoorah! 

    So this weekend, I’m going to carry on with a bit of that. Last weekend I tackled my wardrobe, this weekend, it will be our bookshelves. Might be time to give some books the chance to be read and enjoyed by other people instead of gathering dust here. Not every book is going to be one that you re-read, right?

    I have a pile of shiny, new permaculture magazines from the library to read. Our library is so great in the variety of magazines they get. I can’t believe there are multiple permaculture titles to mooch.

    & I got a big fennel bulb in our CSA vege box so I’m going to make a fennel gratin. 

    It’s Palmy Crop Swap weekend and so I’ll head off to that on Sunday with some succulents I’ve potted up and some of my herbal tea to share. 

    That feels like enough ‘might do’s’ for the weekend. I like a ‘might do’ because if at the last minute I feel lazy and don’t do any of it…having a rest is a great use of a weekend, too. 

    I hope there’s some resting, some cheerful eats and some fun in your weekend. 

    x x

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #9

    (Above: low winter sun through some crops gone to seed at the Awapuni Community Garden.)

    Hi lovelies,

    Jeez, another week of scary news in a world gone mad. I hope you are faring okay and doing plenty of sensory, nature-based things off screens to give your nervous systems a chance to recover.

    Winter calls for an encounter with ‘a Wild God’

    Long a favourite poem of mine, I went looking for a shareable version of ‘Sometimes a Wild God‘ by Tom Hirons and saw, to my delight, that you can both read it and listen to it being read by the author here. There’s something about listening to poems read by their authors which is really special.

    This poem speaks to that longing inside us to connect with nature’s raw wildness…how that raw wildness is no joke…and it also has such a great ending. A modern classic, I think.

    Song for the week

    This week’s song is gentle, evocative and sounds a bit like Nick Drake. It’s ‘Crow’ by English ‘folktronica’ band, Tuung.

    As a poet, I can’t fall 100% in love with a song unless the lyrics are thoughtful and interesting. The chorus for this song are so good:

    ‘And we bide our time
    And we shed our skins
    And we shake our bones
    And we sink like stone
    And we crawl through mud
    Til we reach the sky
    And we bide our time.’

    (Listen the full playlist of Slow-Small Media songs here on Youtube.)

    Sally Wise’s ‘Apple Day‘

    Nothing warms my heart like friends and communities getting together to work on food harvests and processing together. (If you didn’t catch it already, here’s an article about some friends and I doing just this with green tomatoes.)

    Australian food writer Sally Wise just wrote about her annual ‘apple day’ here.

    I especially like the photographs. What great seasonal fun.

    Make a liver-cleansing, iron-boosting tonic from a much-maligned weed

    Most people I talk to are unaware that yellow dock, a plant loathed by many, is a powerful medicinal plant.

    When I did a live-cooking event at the Womad Festival last year, one of the things I made was some wild seedy crackers which had yellow dock seed in them which I foraged.

    Dock root is rich in iron, minerals and vitamins. Check out this recipe for an Iron Rich Liver-Cleansing Support Oxymel from one of my favourite New Zealand food writers, Anna Valentine.

    Lot’s of weeds are a bit of a pain, it’s true (hello, tradescantia, hello, convolvulus) …but so many weeds are edible or medicinal. I feel like re-learning all of the offerings of local weeds will be an important passtime for the coming years.

    Here’s to the humble dock plant: mineral-retriever with it’s deep taproot, generous-seed-offerer, cleanser of livers and booster of blood.

    This week’s affordable art: Whakangā

    This week’s affordable art is not wall art, but an artful object, a meditation tool, a little something perfect for the wintery months. This would make a beautiful gift.

    (Above: photo borrowed from the Creative Hive NZ website.)

    It’s a little beeswax candle set from the Creative Hive NZ. Whakangā means in Māori to take a breath, catch your breath, rest, relax or inhale.

    From their website: ‘This beautiful Whakangā set is the perfect addition to your wellbeing with 21 small beeswax candles and an exquisite artisan ceramic kawakawa leaf holder.’

    I think it qualifies as ‘art’ and is very reasonable at just $35.00 for the set.

    This is such a thoughtful product. The tiny candles are made to burn for twenty minutes; just long enough to take a break or meditate. A friend of mine has a set and the candles are so very small and sweet.

    How to make a Wild Food Map of your neighbourhood

    This is a great article from Milkwood Permaculture on how to make a wild food map of your neighbourhood. I haven’t done this but I’d love to. If you have younger kids, it could be a fun activity to get them involved in over the school holidays?

    As well as great instructions on this project, this article has a handy list of links for online community food maps at the end, like Falling Fruit a global map of crowd-sourced information about public fruit trees. It’s very fun to type your address into it and see what’s within walking distance of your house. You can add your local knowledge to it, too.

    Something chill to watch: a Brixton folk artist’s beautiful house and studio

    This short (9min) clip featuring folk artist Abe Odedina on the World of Interiors YT channel is a good time.

    He’s a vibe, and I loved seeing his house and studio. His house is beautiful as is his art. I also appreciated how much he talks about loving being at home. I think since the pandemic, many of us feel the same way, hey?

    (I lived in Brixton a zillion years ago when I was on my travels. I found it such a vibrant, exciting suburb of London.)

    A Manifesto for Stubborn Optimists

    From the Montague Workshop (Brad and Kristi Montague), a Manifesto for Stubborn Optimists:

    ‘We believe that care is courageous.

    Joy is rebellious.

    Wonder is defiance.

    We believe in the builders,

    teachers, growers, healers,

    quiet ones making room at the table,

    the messy middle, the long haul, and

    in the overlooked beauty of a slow repair.’

    This manifesto gave me some solace this week. I love manifestos. I think most things I write end up being thinly disguised manifestos; I can’t help it.

    I’m going to print it out and stick it on my fridge.

    This weekend my oldest ‘baby’ turns 25. Quarter of a century!

    (Above: the oldest baby when he was 4. A favourite pic.)

    I spent my 25th birthday dancing at Duckie London – a queer club night that’s still going! But I started off the night straddled across one of the bronze lions of Trafalger Square in London, drinking straight from a 1.5 litre bottle of Absolut vodka. Classy, aye? (I wasn’t always the quiet homebody I am now.)

    It’s funny, because I remember clearly thinking back then ‘I’m going to climb up here and get on one of the lions…because then I will always remember what I did on my 25th birthday’ …and it worked, I do!

    Anyway, there will be birthday celebrations this weekend and no doubt F and I will have a tipple of whisky and contemplate the bizarre passage of time.

    Hope there are sweet, calm things in your weekend, too. x

  • Sometimes reaching out to your heroes works out

    (Above: Morag Gamble + my book! *squeals with delight* Image borrowed from Morag’s website. I love this photograph. I look at it when I’m having low moments to do with writing stuff and it cheers me up.)

    Today I’m returning to an occasional series of sharing anecdotes from my experiences after publishing A Forager’s Life . This is a story about how I reached out to some writing or permaculture heroes, people I respect and look up to, and how it panned out.

    I have an amazing publicist at Harper Collins, Sandra Noakes, without whom I would not have had such good reach with the book or opportunities like feature articles in national publications, appearances at literary festivals and featuring on the bill at WOMAD.

    Any writer worth their salt, however, will do their best to get word out on their own steam as well. If you believe in your work enough to publish it…you have to keep backing it beyond publication. Publication isn’t the finish line. In some ways, it’s just the start line of phase two. Reaching out to people can be an excruciating experience. You have to steel yourself for plenty of ‘thanks but no thanks’ or, worse, silence. (*cue the sound of crickets chirping.*)

    Just after the book came out, I wrote to a dozen people (nature writers, permaculture heroes, eco-podcast hosts) introducing myself, explaining why I thought they might be interested in the book and offering to send them a copy. Out of that dozen – two said yes.

    Out of the two who said yes please to me sending a book…one worked out wonderfully well. The other person ghosted me. Being real with you, it’s hard not to take it personally…but for my mental health I’m choosing to believe that they were in a place of overwhelm with life and my book was one of the things that could fall off their ‘to-do’ list with minimal consequences …rather than: they just didn’t like the book.

    I share these details with you, not for sympathy, but to demonstrate how thick-skinned you have to be in the writing. business (and I’m not particularly…I bruise fairly easy). Take my recent lovely news about the Verb Home Based Writer’s Residency. I’m still so over the moon about this. What people don’t see, though, is the manifold rejections from other opportunities that I have thrown my hat in the ring for. The writing life takes tenacity…the amount of tenacity demanded can be wearing and I have definitely had fallow years where I just couldn’t find the grit to keep on trying. Or when the responsibilities of my life precluded space for creative pursuits.

    Anyway, this is a happy story, not a gloomy one!

    One of the permaculture heroes I approached was the indomitable, prolific, generous Morag Gamble. This name might not mean much to you if you aren’t active in the permaculture world but in permie-land, it means a lot.

    Morag is a permaculture teacher, mentor, writer who lives in Australia but works at a global scale. She has an excellent Youtube channel with dozens of helpful permaculture clips, she teaches permaculture teachers at the Permaculture Education Institute, and she runs a non-profit which gifts permaculture education to refugees in East Africa. She’s an incredible woman for whom I have a lot of admiration and respect.

    You can imagine my delight when she took me up on my offer to send her my book. I wrote a friendly letter and posted it off and then a while after that…she got back in touch to say that she’d read and really enjoyed the book (!!) and invited me to be a guest on her podcast! I was, and still am, thrilled.

    + Morag’s daughter also reviewed the book here.

    The podcast was conducted via Zoom. On the day, I was so nervous, my mouth kept going dry which is very annoying when you want to chat away and try to sound relaxed. I needn’t have worried, though, because Morag is just as warm and genuine as she seems in her videos and podcasts and talking to someone so aligned in values was an absolute dream.

    Here’s Morag’s description of our conversation: “As a published author of books like ‘A Forager’s Life‘, Helen has a beautiful way of emphasising humans’ reciprocal relationship with plants and the wisdom of plant tending. She also highlights the significance of hyperlocal food systems and the power of food commons and radical reciprocity.”

    You can listen to our conversation here.

    & while I didn’t have to tell you that I got the slot on Morag’s podcast because I chased it…I like to be honest about ‘behind the scenes’ things in the writing world in the hope it helps people get a sense of how things work and (maybe) to inspire you to keep going with whatever your dream is…even when things feel too huge or overwhelming.

    People will say no to you or they won’t respond at all…and that’s okay. Everyone is busy, often to the point of overwhelm, and I think one out of twelve is not too bad…especially given how delighted I was with the outcome. A more courageous writer than me would have sent out hundreds of emails…not just a dozen…but that was the maximum of what my nervous system could handle.

    I hope this story might have given you a little bit of inspiration to take the next step forward in working towards your aspirations. x