Slowing down
Noticing the tiny happenings and micro changes
Dear reader, how are you today? In the UK today we are celebrating Mothers Day, so for you, mothers out there reading this today, Happy Mothers Day, I made these narcissus for you. I am celebrating you! You are amazing, doing the hardest job in the world, the most important job in the world. May you today be treated with all the kindness, love and generosity you give every day - without thinking - to your children. Parenting is hard and in 2025 we may feel we need a manual more than ever. There is no manual! But we’ve got each other, and that’s a lot. Thank you.
Reader, I took a break last week, but I missed you. Heading up the Tip Path yesterday it was a blustery day, over cast yet so bright I couldn’t look directly at the clouds. I’ve been feeling a little at odds on recent walks, something feels off kilter along the path, a sense that things aren’t unfurling as they should. On both walks this week an unease has presented. As I walk and start to pay closer attention, I notice there is a lot happening in the understory, and yet, I can’t help thinking I’m not seeing the usual range and variety of shoots for this time of year. Is it too early? But we are almost in April! Is it the weather? Dead bindweed covers trees and bushes along the path, adding an eerie note. A large fallen willow - still full of life - is entirely shrouded, and the knots and tangles of dead vine appear impenetrable. A large section of drain bordering the path is flooded, the water with a blue, cloudy appearance, floating roots take on an orange tinge, rust leaching from metal, old tip waste buried deep below.
And yet above me in the overcast sky I hear the skylark. Birdsong lifts my spirits. And I hear bees, lots of them, bumbling and searching for sustenance. A few dandelions are flowering, some mustard, some daffodils. Slim pickings for this time of year. But when I get to the pond I find blossom, dog violet, coltsfoot, kingcups, daisies, bluebells and green alkanet. Many more are emerging: cowslips, meadowsweet, willowherb. Alexanders is absolutely everywhere, and the parsley family are starting to push upwards. The alkanet is alive with insects - I notice many different types of bee but I can’t even attempt to identify them. Like my fleeting thoughts, the bees move too quickly for me. Bees with bright yellow faces (is it pollen? Or does the bee have a yellow face? Is it even a bee at all? Bees don’t carry pollen on their faces, don’t be silly, they carry it in baskets on their legs), bees with red bottoms, orange bottoms, yellow stripes, black bodies, I see bee flies - curious imitators with fuzzy bodies and long proboscis, hovering, their wings moving so fast they are a blur - lots of flies, the majority of woodland pollinators are flies, although of course we are often more concerned with bees … increasingly I find I am looking for insects, is this a side effect of my obsession with wild flowers? But insects are too fast and perhaps what draws me to plant life is the ability to sit still and watch - as they sit still and allow me to observe.
I notice many things as I am walking but this sense of unease doesn’t leave me, I find myself questioning things, pestered with overwhelming thoughts and feelings, annoyance at taking things too much to heart. I pass a stand of field maple, there are lots of saplings, I suspect they seed easily. But there’s only one hazel in this section of the wood and it’s been hacked back, I know it will spring back but in the moment it pains me. This malaise has roots in something deeper. I know that by May, everything will be incredibly lush. Grasses will be flowering, foamy white cow parsley will decorate the hedgerows. The dead tendrils of bindweed will disappear and new growth will have taken over. I know this because I know the cycle. What’s missing is that I’m not feeling it, and the simple reason I’m not feeling it is that I’m not getting out enough. I know deep inside me, in my heart and at the core of my being that I need to be out walking the same path day after day, watching the cycle of life, the changes in the weather, the development of the seasons, and I need to do this to feel connected and I need to feel connected because it is the thing that matters most to me, to be close to nature, to be at one with nature, to know nature, to be part of it.
As I walk and this realisation dawns I think about time and the effects of time. Walking every couple of days keeps me abreast of all the micro changes, tiny happenings, a flower appearing here, new shoots coming up there. Tracking these micro changes allows me to experience time in a different way. Infrequent walks give a different experience, jumps in time, snap shots showing bigger changes. Walking more often allows you to see growth happening. Maybe it’s just me, but as you go through life, do you ever notice that you’re not really paying attention? Perhaps things happen, but you experience them from a distance - almost like you’re not there? Increasingly I understand the relevance of repetition, of time spent doing the same thing over and over again, as an essential aspect of mindfulness, of being present. As you repeat things you notice the nuance, maybe your practice improves, you gain an understanding of how everything around you works together. When it comes to walking, for me I believe that going the same way each time means I am in touch, connected, witnessing and experiencing the passage of time. Slowing down to process time. Realising there is a simple antidote to my malaise puts a spring back into my step and as I come to the end of the path I notice what I hadn’t previously seen, the ground beneath the hawthorn hedge is completely carpeted with celandines, heart shaped leaves providing a stylised background to the flowers, like golden drops of sunlight and not yet in full bloom. I’ll be back in a couple of days.
I hope you have a lovely lazy Sunday, and if you go out for a walk, take it nice and slow and see how many plants and flowers you spot. It’s a wonderful time of year. I’ll be back next week, until then, thanks for reading and with love as always, Ling
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STEP INTO MY WORLD Nature lovers and paper flower friends, if you care to join me, I am opening other windows onto my world and I would love you to join me as I go live daily on Instagram. Come along on one of my walks or join me going through spring shoots - or you could just pop into the studio for elevenses ☕️ There are spaces for nine guests at the Flourishing Retreat this September and what better way to decide whether to join us than to get to know your hosts? You can also join my cohost Meg at @floragami.paperflower to see her beautiful garden and find out what makes her tick (clue: 🌷🌷🌷)
STUDIO NEWS I’m super excited to share that in July, I will be at RHS Wentworth Woodhouse with an amazing display of giant flowers and some brand new Paper Wildflower Craftkits ! To make sure I get everything ready in time I’ll be taking a break from classes in April but Blossom and Create will be back in May! Until then there are still opportunities for you to explore the wonderful art of paper flower making:
Tuesday 1st April 11.30 - 1.30: the last scheduled Blossom and Creative session (until May) is Paper Harebells, book here
SUMMER EVENING CLASS COMMENCES Thursday 8th May 7-9pm. There are just a couple of places left to join this friendly group, no experience required, come along and immerse yourself in the world of paper flowers. 8 classes over nine weeks, all tools and materials provided, a lovely way to spend your Thursday evenings and each week you will leave with a new flower. Book here or pass the news on to someone you know who would like to come!
All images taken by me, Ling Warlow, 2025