A personal story of psychosis, mental health recovery, and starting again after a psychotic episode.

Foraged nettle soup is one of the oldest spring recipes there is, a reminder that wild food has always been there, free and in season if we slow down enough to notice it.

When kitchen gardening feels low-maintenance, it brings genuine pleasure and puts something beautiful and homegrown on the table WITHOUT the garden becoming another source of pressure.

As the New Year rolls around, bringing with it January’s slower pace, Seville oranges start to appear in grocers and supermarkets. It’s marmalade-making season.

Winter is the season the natural world uses to rest, to gather itself, to prepare for what comes next. We're not so different. Give yourself the same permission.

In my never-ending pursuit to simplify and calmify my life, I’ve released a ton of Christmas-related-pressure. The simpler I've made it, the more I've actually felt re-charged by it.

There are few better ways to end a winter's evening than sitting by the fire as it burns down to embers with a warm mug of cocoa cradled in both hands.

The clocks have gone back, it’s raining sideways, and suddenly this earthy, rich, creamy soup feels like the answer to everything.

As cosy season has arrived, I'm taking my laptop to bed with a hot water bottle. No apology necessary. Here’s why you shouldn’t feel guilty for finding comfort in your work.

Forage the nuts if you can, buy them if you can't. Either way, there's something so wholesome about starting the morning with something made by your own hands.

Eat with plenty of salted butter dipped into soups, or as part of a hearty ploughman’s lunch. If you’re a Marmite person, this bread makes an exceptional toast and Marmite combo too.

We’re instinctively supposed to be sourcing food from the hedgerows, wiling away the hours picking berries, immersed in birdsong, rooted in the moment. Perhaps that’s why foraging is so calming.

Making bone broth is one of those tasks that feels almost too simple. All it takes is the bones from your roast chicken, any vegetables you’ve got kicking around, a slow cooker ticking away through the night.

A honest account of living with mental health struggles including anxiety and depression, and what's actually helped.

There’s a particular pleasure in making something this simple, this bloody delicious, from a single ingredient. Once you've tasted it, the block of butter from the supermarket will never cut it again.

They'll wake you up, warm you through, and deliver a concentrated hit of antioxidants and anti-inflammatory goodness in a single sip.

There's something magical about making something from nothing, or near enough. Even better when it requires a walk, a basket and spending time in the elderflower blossom.

If bluebell season does one thing, it reminds me to be present. To slow down. To linger a while and enjoy the noticing. Take a virtual wander amongst the bluebells with me.

Noticing nature’s blossom roll call offers its own rewards; a jug of blossom for the kitchen table, a bottle of elderflower cordial to carry that fleeting elderflower scent a little further into the year.