Bound to the The Wheel of Fortune

What prompted this week’s post was the unrelenting news of misfortune from those I care about. There really was no end to it. My son lost an amazing job in off-shore wind, because Trump was no longer willing to give out licenses; Mariia is coming up to her third year with us and no sign of peace in Ukraine. And on and on… Speaking with friends recently has made me feel that Fortune’s wheel has become stuck – with us at the bottom.

So how do we cope with such random events that sometimes feel like a very personal persecution?

O Fortuna

As I often do, I turn to the wisdom of the ancients. For all our troubles, they are fairly insignificant when compared to those of plague, famine and almost perpetual war. How did they work out ways to cope?

They used allegory and symbol to explain the inexplicable. The wheel of fortune of which we are familiar goes back much further than the Middle Ages, but the sentiment was similar. Life is decided by fates beyond our control and the image of a blind and indifferent woman spinning the world seemed a pretty apt one.

The mighty fall and the poor are raised up – until the wheel turns once more. And if we find ourselves at the bottom, what then?

The Wheel of Fortune in the modern world

You may be wondering what Classical and Medieval thinking has to do with you. Well, a lot, actually. Though we may not refer to Fortune or the stars as an explanation of our situation, she still has something to teach us.

Modern thinking tends to place suffering as an aberration, a swerving from our proper path. It is not to be tolerated. We should, if necessary, medicate it away. It is not an inevitable part of existence.

Tears of sorrow Image: Emiliano Vittoriosi on Unsplash

Except it is. Ask anyone; they all have their difficulties and struggles – some extreme – yet we still imagine that pain and suffering are unwarranted and a deliberate assault upon ourselves.

The first noble truth of Buddhism is that life is suffering. Depressing? Perhaps, but if we follow the next three truths, we discover that suffering is, in part a mental state, an unwillingness to accept things as they are.

The Stoics, for whom I have a great deal of admiration, are equally clear that life is what it is. That is we live a just and virtuous life, what happens to us will be accepted with equanimity.

By Paolo Monti – Available in the BEIC digital library and uploaded in partnership with BEIC Foundation.The image comes from the Fondo Paolo Monti, owned by BEIC and located in the Civico Archivio Fotografico of Milan., CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=48067347

Despite what appears to be a rather Eeyore like view of existence neither of these groups were gloomy souls. The Stoics lived life as it came, enjoying the good times and enduring the bad. The Buddha is almost always presented as laughing.

Acceptance

What we can learn from these ancient minds is that acceptance is the route to a kind of contentment (happiness is something other). When we reject our situation (or cannot change it) we are embroiled in anger and frustration. If, in contrast, we embrace it – even if it is something horrible like a terrible diagnosis, we can at least keep our minds well.

This is not a lazy form of passivity, for both doctrines require a life of self-discipline and kindness. I don’t think that it means turning a blind eye to injustice.

Resilience

A counterpoint to combat Fortune’s vagaries is resilience. Perhaps this is the least popular notion in our time. No-one wants to wait more than 24 hours for a parcel to be delivered; if our car breaks down, it is a tragedy. I often wonder what those living in the developing countries must make of us!

Thriving against the odds Image: Mourad Harkat on Unsplash

Just as muscles grow when we challenge them to ever greater feats, so we thrive when we find the resolve and dedication to overcome our difficulties.

Gratitude

For me, the third protection against the vagaries of fate has to be gratitude. Strangely, it is in valuing what we have rather than despairing for what we lack that leads to our well-being. And there is always so much to be grateful for. Whenever you are feeling down, look about you and consider how much is available to you that was not available even one hundred years ago. Start with the essentials: food, shelter, safety, water. When we start from our basic needs, the list gets very long indeed. It is always a fruitful exercise.

And for me, nature always adds its own delights. Half hour in a garden or park will spark more joy than any shopping spree.

My son has now secured an even better job in renewable energy not dependent upon government whim. For him, Fortune’s wheel has turned. But, if Fortune’s wheel seems stuck at the bottom for you, do not despair – your time will come. If you are enjoying life’s pleasures – rejoice in their fleeting joy. The ancients may be outdated, but they still can teach us much.

A word of apology! If you find more errors than usual in this post, it is because my updated software is not helping! I’ve been fighting my computer for two days, learnt lots about computing and I think, just about, have managed to fashion this into something readable. Ah the irony. Fortune was clearly not smiling on me as I wrote this!

When the blossom arrives

When the blossom arrives, I know that spring is here in earnest. For our ancestors, it would certainly have given cause for celebration. The promise of the earth’s renewal has been fulfilled and the fearful dark days of winter want are truly over.

In the puppy park this week, my friends and I were discussing the sudden eruption of blossom all over the town. How it brought smiles to our faces and joy to our hearts.

Blossom in the hospital car park
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

On the way to a routine check-up at the hospital, I spotted this magnificent ornamental cherry and it reminded me how vital trees and flowers are in such a setting. Hospitals are seldom relaxed environments, but add a flowering tree and some potted plants and everyone feels better.

The symbolism of blossom

Across the world, the arrival of blossom is celebrated, but nowhere more so than Japan. Here, people of all ages gather to witness their brief beauty: holding picnics and parties or simply walking along the tree lined paths. This ‘hanami’ or viewing flowers, is a way to remind the self of the transience of existence and the need, therefore, the make the most of every moment. Blossoms, like life, are all too short.

Evening banquet for cherry blossom viewing at the Rokujo Palace by Kunisada (1855)

For the samurai, the blossom had a more personal symbolism. ‘Their short but glorious bloom mirrored the warrior’s code of Bushido, emphasising honour, courage and living life to the fullest.’ A blossom’s existence is short, as is that of the warrior, and the fallen petals represented the fallen heroes. (https://www.wattsgallery.org.uk/blog/the-deep-cultural-significance-of-cherry-blossoms-in-japan)

Petals and poetry

In Japanese as well as European poetry, blossoms have always inspired. In a homage to the Japanese poet, Basho, Simon Armitage was commissioned by the National Trust to write a series of haiku and other poems celebrating our own period of flowering trees. Like Basho, he travels south to north. The result was a beautiful collection called, Blossomise.

Blossomise Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And here’s my favourite gem of a poem: 

Constellations bloom
in orchards of April skies
The stars blossomise.

There is more to this collection, however, than a poetic celebration. Through the art of highlighting the magnificence of the period of flowering, Armitage also seeks to encourage us to take notice of the natural world; to learn its lessons and to cherish it accordingly. Nature is under threat. He writes:

Poetry is in debt to the environment , having had its money’s worth from its use of nature as a byword for beauty or a pretty backdrop. And poetry must speak up for nature when nature cannot speak for itself. Those impulses were at the heart of this project; to give definitions and dignity to a crucial aspect of the ecosystem, and to give meaning and protection to this yearly extravaganza.

Blossom and nature

Because while blossom looks pretty, it also serves an essential function. For the early pollinators it is a source of food. It is also the first stage of a fruit’s development. And though I have focused on the showy cherry blossom here, all fruits have their flowers.

The abundance of blossoms on my trees is making me look forward to the summer harvest.

Yet, if we do not protect our trees and the pollinators who sustain them, there will be no more harvest. So I urge you to go out and enjoy the miraculous show this Easter and as the days darken and lengthen, think about the spring again, and plant a tree!

Happy Easter!

On the Oregon Trail

‘Go West, young man!’ was always the advice given to those looking for adventure in the US. My youngest son heard the call and headed first to Arizona and then north to Oregon.

Despite life throwing every obstacle in our path, we finally got to join him there last month. The Pacific Northwest is very far away, but the joy of modern travel meant it took us only twenty-four hours rather than the gruelling and dangerous four to five months of the early pioneers.

The perfect hosts

It was our first visit to the state and my son, Scott, and daughter-in-law, Kelsee, gave us a fabulous introduction to its offerings. They live in central Oregon, which is a region of high desert grounded on volcanic rock. It is certainly magnificent – an area of extensive public land filled with lakes, rivers, waterfalls and forest.

Scott and Kelsee who made us feel at home
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

For two outdoor enthusiasts with environmental interests, they couldn’t have found a better location to raise their daughter. The city where they live has every facility one could need, while just down the highway, wilderness begins.

But first a rest

Slightly addled with jetlag, Kelsee arranged for us to have a quiet first few days. We visited a micro-brewery and fabulous food hall, but the highlight was an excursion to a soaking pool in a nearby hotel complex. Old St Francis School Hotel was itself a treasure – transformed from an old school into an Americana style resort with its own quirky art cinema. But I digress. We were headed to the salt water soaking pool. I had no clue what to expect – a sort of Turkish bath? A swimming pool? I certainly didn’t foresee this:

A Roman bath in central Oregon!

Ah, the bliss of a hot bath (I usually can neither get in or out of one). My fears of it being too hot and stuffy, since MS and heat are not good companions, were swiftly dissolved. The water was delightfully hot and the air chill. How this was managed, I could not fathom until a raindrop hit my face. A square opening had been made in the roof, so one could bathe in absolute comfort. Genius.

The star attraction

But the star attraction was my granddaughter, Sofia, who was soon to have her spring break holiday and seventh birthday. We have seen too little of this little treasure, and I was determined to make up for lost time. Like her Nana, she enjoys the wilderness, animals, cooking and crafts – so we filled our days with each. We made felt chickens, cookies and cupcakes; we entertained each other with songs on hikes and we played together with the guinea pigs they were fostering.

Every day was an activity day and an opportunity to bond and create memories.

Her mother is keen to encourage a love of wildlife (she works in conservation), so we visited some excellent indoor/outdoor museums. We even found a beaver lodge and evidence of their tree felling techniques.

And if all this excitement were not enough, my older son Greg and his wife had travelled to Oregon too and my joy was complete.

All together now!

Greg adores his niece (as does his wife Genevieve) and they provided her with all the physical excitement that neither my husband nor I could. They took her skiing in the nearby mountains with her dad and swimming in the very cold lake. I did get to join in when we went boating on Clearwater lake, though getting in and out of the craft had its moments.

This pristine wilderness was stunning in the spring sunshine and, though snow lay on the ground, it was an unusually warm day at around 20 degrees C.

Oregon is not famous for its good weather and further north it rains regularly – but here, in the centre, it is sunny for most of the year, with cold, brisk winters and hot summers.

Good-byes

Greg and Genevieve were with us for just a week and the time passed all too quickly. We relished our additional days (and extra snuggles) but in moments, it seemed, it was time to go home. This was pretty heart-breaking. It will be at least a year before we see everyone again, but I am consoling myself that we are filled with the most amazing memories and I plan to keep up with my granddaughter on video calls. (I need an update on those guinea pigs!)

We need to visit the east coast next year, so if Scott is unable to join us, we’ll head out west in the autumn. Kelsee assures us that the aspen forests in the fall are magnificent. I can’t wait.

There’s life in the old shirt yet…

This week’s post will be shorter than usual (collective sigh of relief) as next week we are going to Oregon to meet up with all my family. I’m dreading the journey, which will be evil, but longing for our reunion. I only hope that my children and granddaughter have waterproofed themselves for the abundance of kisses coming their way. But back to the topic in hand.

Compulsively creative

Whilst playing in my craft room the other day, I realised that I am now compulsively creative. If I’m not writing, baking or making something, I’m miserable. As addictions go, this is a good one, though it is potentially rather expensive. Luckily for me, I’m drawn to those activities which maximise using what we have rather than buying new materials. Though it definitely adds extra challenges, it has the wonderful advantage of freeing your creativity. Much of what I use would normally be thrown out, so if it goes awry, there is no loss. If it goes to plan, however, I can be doubly pleased.

A delightful design!
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My husband always goes to work immaculately dressed and has a greater variety of shirts than Gatsby. In the same way that most of us go through socks, my husband goes through shirts. As these are very expensive, he often sources them new or almost new from charity shops.

The fabric used in making these shirts is excellent: high thread count quality cotton. Alas, though the fabric will last a long time, collars and cuffs quickly deteriorate. Which is where I come in. My sewing skills are not of the highest, so using this gorgeous fabric allows me to practice.

Starting simple

I think it was a friend who told me that the easiest way to make a cushion was with a shirt – the row of buttons at the front would provide the opening for the pad and all you have to do is sew the sides. So I made a set and when they wore out (they are now dusters), I made some more.

Perfect for beginners Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I have to confess, it isn’t always as straight forward. Some shirts will have darts that need to be unpicked first; the buttons need to be centred on the front and fabric has a tendency to squiggle about – even when pinned. That said, these cute little cushions cost me nothing.

A greater challenge

With cushions galore and mountains of deconstructed shirts in my craft dresser, I thought I would try something a little more challenging. Over the past years, I have made a few quilts. My friend Jane was an invaluable help at teaching me, but now it was time to try without supervision.

My shirt pieces, unlike commercial quilting quarters, were of a variety of sizes. The longest was from the back and I thought that with a number of these I could easily make a bed runner. So I dutifully cut out a quantity of strips that together would make the length I wanted and sewed them all together. Alas, my shirt sections were not quite long enough – so I needed a border too! More sewing of strips together and cutting to size.

Quilting lesson and bed runner in one
Image: Karen Costlello-McFeat

Finally, I had the shape and length I needed. Sandwiching my wadding between my patchwork and a piece of old sheet, I only needed some bias binding to make it neat and then I could begin on the quilting.

Part of the reason that I love quilting is that the stitching part is wonderfully simple and meditative. My craft club is usually far too exuberant to be able to concentrate on anything intricate – but sewing a quilt – perfect!

Making it unique

Quilts are gorgeous for all sorts of reasons, but what appeals to me most is the number of ways you can make them your own. Even if you choose a formal design, the fabrics you use and the colours you combine are unique to you. My design was neither formal nor especially regular, but that is what I wanted.

Freestyle stitching! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And as for the over-stitching, I wanted to break up the squares and rectangles with a more organic design and this is what I went with: a sort of double helix in pastel shades of embroidery threads.

Quilting in the past was all about making use of old and outgrown clothing. I am pleased to continue in that tradition. Alas, no sooner had I finished this project than my husband asked me what I was going to do next. The options are endless: bunting, bottle bags, glass cases – indeed anything that doesn’t require a large swathe of cloth. But I don’t think I’ll tell him until he gives me a new shirt!

See you in a few weeks and enjoy the unfolding spring.

Forever is composed of Nows –

This title is taken from the beautiful poem by Emily Dickinson. Despite being a nineteenth century poet, she feels distinctly modern. Of course, there is seldom anything new under the sun and her contemporaries were as interested in the wisdom of Eastern philosophy as we are today.

Notelets with wisdom
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The sentiment – that forever is composed of nows – is an especially eloquent and precise one. Every moment, from here to eternity is an accumulation of ‘nows’. It is a simple and essentially obvious concept, except it is one that we rarely acknowledge in our everyday lives.

And we fail to do so at our peril. Learning to live ‘in the now’ is a skill that can take months or even years to master, but master it we must to live our lives as fully and joyfully as we can.

Here is the complete poem to muse upon: 

Forever – is composed of Nows –
‘Tis not a different time –
Except for Infiniteness –
And Latitude of Home –

From this – experienced Here –
Remove the Dates – to These –
Let Months dissolve in further Months –
And Years – exhale in Years –

Without Debate – or Pause –
Or Celebrated Days –
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Dominies –

An antidote to anxiety

I first took note of this approach when I had become over-whelmed with anxiety. At one point, it was so bad that I would utter ‘now’ under my breath every few seconds just to have a break from the whirling craziness of my mind. The moment I said ‘now’ was the quiet eye of the storm. A friend had given me the amazing book, The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle and he really began my investigation into finding presence.

A great place to begin

I’m pleased to say that my anxiety is now under control, but my habit of aligning myself with the now is ongoing. Because anxiety is based in a fear of the unknown – the future.

And there is much to be concerned about. Our darling Ukrainian, Mariia, is waiting to see how her future will be directed by the decisions of a few, powerful men. All I can say to console her is that she is safe and that we are there for her.

My own life feels like free-falling: we are selling our home, my husband is retiring and we’re moving to the Highlands. Everything is going to be new and much of it complicated and hard. By rights, I should be losing my remaining marbles, but framing it as an adventure and enjoying all the days we have left here keeps me grounded.

With a degenerative condition, the only thing that I can be certain of is that I shall get worse. Yet, if I focus on this very moment, where I can see the sun dipping below the downs; the mottled clouds of the sky and Hermione fleeing after her ball in the garden, life feels very good indeed. Focusing on now expels anxiety about the future.

Jettisoning the past

Lao Tzu said: If you are depressed you are living in the past . And the past can be a heavy burden to carry. I am an inveterate journal writer and whilst looking for ways to reduce the amount we needed to take to our future home (whenever that is!) I realised that I have dozens of journals taking up space.

Last year’s news Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I’m working up the courage to throw them all into the paper recycling. I’ll keep my nature journal of a year’s observations and my holiday ones – but the rest? I think they have served their purpose.

Living mindfully

The final part of Lao Tzu’s quote goes as follows: If you are at peace you are living in the present. And hard though it is to find this state, it will only occur if we eschew all other thoughts but those which concern us now.

We can achieve this in a number of different ways and we must each find our own path. Meditation, yoga, tai chi are the obvious ones, but quietly sewing, as I was the other day, is equally effective.

A more extreme way to be present is to place yourself where mere survival is all you have the capacity to think about. My wonderful friend, Sally, came to visit last weekend and having taken a dip in the sea on Saturday, persuaded me to join her on the Sunday.

Ready to take the plunge!
Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

The brilliant sunshine was deceptive. It felt warn, though the air temperature was only 8 degrees centigrade. The sparkling sea looked inviting. So in we plunged and swam about until I could no longer feel my gloved hands. For five minutes, our bodies’ needs absorbed all our attention and upon leaving the water, survival made us euphoric. It was a feeling that lasted for the rest of the day. However, sea swims are not for everyone and I must give a note of caution here. Going in unprepared can be fatal. Please check you are okay to swim first and have the proper gear. I have cold showers every day, so my body is used to the shock of the cold, but even seasoned swimmers sometimes find the cold too much.

The gentle approach

For those who are perhaps rather more sane, the easiest way to get into the now is through nature. At this time of year, the world is transforming by the day. Taking even a few minutes to look, really look or listen is enough to set you on the right path. My hazel catkins were too beautiful to resist. They dangle like golden waterfalls and, set against the azure sky, are positively radiant.

Golden tails Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

However you find your way, I hope that you can make it a natural part of your life. It requires a fair amount of training and discipline. It certainly isn’t easy. It may even seem too big an ask. But now is all we’ve got.

Beach Life

After weeks of skies that resembled cold porridge, the sun emerged on Monday, and Hermione and I headed for the beach. It was a balmy 10 degrees centigrade and the waves were perfect for surfing – coiling into one another in smooth lines before tumbling in an effervescent rush to the shore.

Perfect day Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Carpe Diem

And I needed this. The last fortnight has been fraught with health worries. Standing on the beach in the sunshine, I thought to myself, ‘If this were my last day, what would I do/feel?’ The answer was easy – live and relish each moment.

My test results came in yesterday and all is well. MS has so many and varied symptoms that it is impossible to know if it is the condition or something more sinister. I’m grateful for my doctors for checking – and even more grateful that it is just the usual MS craziness.

But on Monday, I did not know and it focused my mind on the miraculous world around me. I took out my phone to document some of it and I’m presenting it here as a sort of photo journal.

Sea defences

Located where we are on the coast, we experience a great variation in tides. Sometimes the sea is so far out it takes an age to reach; other times it almost touches the promenade. The groynes act as an essential coastal defence and for us a very welcome shelter from the wind.

The groynes provide a perfect home for the beach life too: seaweeds such as this cling with tiny ‘feet’ to its walls.

Shell fish too use the protection of the smooth wood. The sea, twice daily, submerges them in brine and feeds them with micro-organisms. High on the groyne walls, they are free from ocean predators and the seagulls are seldom tempted by them. Prising them from the surface is far too much effort.

Limpets are rather beautiful when viewed in close-up. Barnacles are just tiny freckles of grey.

Flotsam and jetsam

With the usual junk that is brought in with the tide – I discovered and disposed of: a large square of polystyrene, a plastic cup lid and cup – there are also natural treasures to be found.

After high winds, all kinds of rainbow coloured seaweeds are washed up in Dr Seuss designs. But the day I went was still and the tide high concealing its bounty. There was, however, an abundance of whelk egg sacks, which are Hermione’s favourite toy!

These little balls are such a familiar sight, yet I had no real idea how they came to be. How does a whelk lay eggs? Well, the internet is a mine of information and if you were wondering too, here’s how:

Considering the petite proportions of a whelk, I am most impressed by the tennis ball size of its egg sack. Thanks to Lee Fishy Selby for this amazing photograph.

My last find was an almost perfect cuttlefish bone. The ‘bone’ is in fact an interior shell that aids with buoyancy. Who knew?

Contented with the length of her play, Hermione and I headed to our favourite haunt to warm up and, in Hermione’s case, receive treats and fussing. My attempts to capture the numerous, elegant seagulls mid flight failed, but here’s our cafe. And if you come to visit, I’ll take you there.

The Beach Deck with views to the sea
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The Art of Finding Time

As someone living with MS, I am acutely aware of the preciousness of time. The condition makes my life expectancy shorter and the time in good health – shorter still. Added to this is the fact that extreme fatigue gives me little more than twelve hours a day to enjoy in some level of wakefulness.

Mary’s grandfather clock
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

That said, I’ve worked out a way to maximise those hours and I am happy to say my life is as full and enjoyable as that of my more able-bodied peers. It has taken a lot of thinking and experimentation to reach this point, but has all been worth it. So, if you are feeling time poor or that the day doesn’t contain enough hours, or like me, your time is naturally limited, here are my suggestions to make the most of what you have.

Marie Kondo your life

Being organised a la Marie Kondo method is a wonderful way to tidy your home. More importantly, it is an excellent way to save time. We waste so much of it just looking for stuff. Having a specific place for things will save minutes and meltdowns.

Where did I put those keys? Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A place for everything and everything in its place is not a new concept, but nowadays we have so much, we desperately need to organise it. Using her methods for folding and storing clothes has made my life infinitely easier. I know at a glance what I have and can quickly assemble an outfit (which I do the night before). These small actions soon add up and it certainly takes the stress out of the morning.

Saving time and energy

For those of us with chronic conditions, in which fatigue features, time and energy are symbiotically entwined. For all my tasks, I need to assess the time it will take and the energy it will require. Breaking jobs into component parts allows me to do more than if I try to do it all in one go. Overdoing anything invariably results in more hours lying on the sofa staring at the sky – not very proficient.

This applies to everything I do (boring, right?) For example, my OMS lifestyle includes healthy eating and more time preparing and cooking food. Whereas in the past, I would wander around the kitchen and back and forth to the fridge, I am now more like TV chefs – laying everything out before I begin. Rice is put in water to soak; soups and stews boiled and then left off the heat to cook themselves; meals are planned hours in advance and assembled in their component parts.

And this method works equally well for all of us. It opens up time to set the table, take the kids to their clubs or catch up on emails. But unlike multi-tasking, we do tasks sequentially and remove the fluster of spinning too many plates at once.

Extreme efficiency

These rules apply outside the home too. Twenty minutes driving is about my limit, so trips need to be ultra efficient. Planning to do things en-route is the obvious solution. Taking the dog to the park, collecting a friend and going to the post office can easily be combined – saving both time and fuel.

Shopping with a list and ensuring that essentials are always in the cupboard prevents numerous trips to the supermarket for missed items. If you don’t have an obscure ingredient, find an alternative. In the time it would take to go and buy it, you could have made the dish.

Tick tock Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Our world is full of labour-saving devices and I’m all for taking advantage of them. However, they are also costly. It is worth taking a moment to calculate how much work is required to pay for them and not only the time they save. Ready meals look great but are expensive. What they save in time will cost you earning time to pay for. Tumble driers only need to be stuffed with wet clothing rather than hanging them outside or near the radiator. Unfortunately, they also destroy the fabric of you clothing, requiring you to buy more. Unless money is not an issue, such calculations are worth making.

Time wasters

I think we all know what they are: mobile phones, televisions, Instagram and the internet. We all use them and enjoy them, however, it is too easy to take that pleasure and fritter away our precious hours. In the UK in 2024, people spent between 3-5 hours on their smartphones and of course, more still on television/streaming services. Checking settings for your screen time each week is probably a good idea. Most of us severely underestimate. By establishing what is a reasonable time for your lifestyle, you will free up hours for either more personal communications or to explore your interests.

Time is in your hands Image: Bianca Castillo on Unsplash

The internet is set up with one intention only: to get you online and to keep you there. The longer you scroll, the more information they have access to and the more they can pinpoint their advertising. By making you dissatisfied with your own life, they can offer ways to make it better – ways that cost you time and money.

Early to bed

‘Early to bed and early to rise’ promises to make us ‘healthy, wealthy and wise.’ Though not always true (ask any farmer) it certainly gives us the best of the day.

Recently, I read about the Five O’clock Club. If I remember correctly, you rise at five and spend 2o minutes exercising, 20 minutes meditating/journaling and 20 minutes reading improving works. Sounds brilliant, but leveraging me out of bed before 9am is virtually impossible (though I do go to bed early).

The glorious dawn Image: Simon Wilkes on Unsplash

Getting up as early as you can is a great habit to develop. The benefits are innumerable. Our bodies are designed to correspond to natural light and the more we align ourselves with the rhythms of the day, the better we feel. I doubt that I’ll even get by on less than twelve hours’ sleep a day, but I’m working on it.

Speaking of time, I think that I have taken up enough of yours. I hope that you find some of these suggestions useful or have others to recommend. We all could do with a few more minutes in each day – if only for a nap.

Feed the Birds

This time of year is tough for everyone, but especially for the birds. Nearly all the berries and seeds have been consumed and insects are still underground or waiting for the warmer weather to reappear. Resources are at their scarcest, not in deep winter, but as we move into spring.

Feed me! Image: CandreK on Unsplash

And it is time to mate and raise a family.

Though my garden is designed to be as wildlife friendly as possible (read a little unkempt!) I do try to add something tasty during this period. Unfortunately, I’m not so sure about birdfeeders. I struggle to keep them clean and free from cross-contamination. For a while there, I thought I’d found the perfect solution in the eco-friendly coconut shell filled with fat and seeds. They are great, though they are not cheap when the birds (and squirrels) happily much through one a day. So I needed to think of an alternative.

DIY bird feeders

A long time ago, I remember reading about making fat/seed feeders out of yogurt cartons. Since I don’t have any individual sized yogurt pots (though they would work perfectly here), I decided on using what I had: muffin cases and tins.

So this morning, I decided to give it a go. This method will provide six fat muffin-sized feeders and takes mere moments to make. Here’s how:

Ingredients

250g of lard (available at larger supermarkets)

200g of wild bird seed

Containers

Garden twine

Preparation

To make each one ready to hang on the tree, I cut a piece of twine (about 30cm), folded it in half and poked both ends through the back of the case. A large darning needle is perfect for this. On the inside of the case, tie the threads together and leave a loop of twine at the back – something like this:

If using paper cases, I’d recommend putting them in a tin after this stage, as a little leakage is inevitable.

Now for the filling.

Put your lard into a heavy bottomed pan and warm on a very low heat until all the lard is dissolved and clear in colour.

Slowly getting there
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Remove your pan from the heat and add seeds (and any other bird/squirrel treats you like) and stir to combine.

Super nutritious if not delicious
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

As the lard is very liquid, it will pour out much faster than the seed mix, so I’d advise pouring an equal quantity of the lard first and let the seeds follow. Possibly allow the lard to cool and harden slightly before transferring it to the cases. I might try that next time.

Looking tasty! Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Now all you have to do is wait for the lard to harden and return to a creamy white colour. You may have to put it in the fridge if your house is especially warm.

And that’s it! When firm enough to handle, simply tip the case out of the tin; head to the garden and attach to a tree branch. They add a little colour to the bleak brown.

A bird cupcake Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

With a method this simple, I will happily make these on a weekly basis until April when the garden is bountiful. And, at around 10p per cupcake, we can all afford to feed the birds.

The Consolation of Trees

One day, when it was especially dreich and the mizzling rain seemed unable to rouse itself to a full downpour or cease altogether, I was playing with Hermione in the garden and took shelter under the trees.

They were surprisingly efficient at keeping me (almost) dry and warm; protecting me from the indeterminate rain and very determined wind. And so I stood – tossing the ball and watching Hermione rush about and thought about trees.

My tree shelter Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Few things in the world can compete with them. They bring joy, shelter and nourishment in an abundance of forms and yet, they are seldom valued for their contribution any more than water – until they are scarce.

So this post is all about trees and how they console and uplift us.

Tree therapy

If you are ever feeling down, I suggest that you find a tree (a cluster if possible) and stand beneath it. You don’t need to go into full forest bathing mode or further than your garden – a large single tree will do. Because the very structure of trees with their overarching branches, solidity and quietness stills the busy mind and we feel embraced by a loving nature.

The science will tell you that it is because trees release phytoncides that boost mood, but I think it is more than that. No doubt, we started out as tree dwelling creatures and since we have always used wood in the making of our homes, trees are inextricably linked to our sense of safety.

Smell those pines!
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Tree houses

Whilst trees can make us feel at home; they are, of course, a permanent residence to any number of creatures. Study the trunk of a tree and you might be surprised how much activity is taking place on, and under, that unmoving bark. Lichens expand like spilled paint; fungi enliven dying wood; ivy and tree roses entwine themselves. Birds evade the sparrow hawk among its branches and unknown numbers of insects live their secluded lives in cracks and crevices. A tree is a living metropolis.

At the puppy park, I often indulge in some tree companionship when other people are absent. Observing trees is a wonderful way to distract oneself from numb fingers and the tedium of endlessly tossing a ball. This afternoon’s study proved especially fruitful. Drawn to the large holly tree by the trilling carols emanating from its midst, I waited for my eyes to focus and establish where the sound was coming from. By far the noisiest contributors were a flock of tiny coal tits who could only be spotted when they moved from one branch to another.

What else was there, I wondered? Well, quite a lot. While waiting patiently, I came upon a very plump pigeon, some beautiful goldfinches and a friendly robin who came to sing me his little tune. A tiny squirrel soon showed off his aerobatic tricks, flinging himself from a neighbouring tree onto this one.

The tree’s gifts were not merely visual. The wind’s soft soughing was soothingly soporific and the damp scent of the undergrowth redolent of childhood.

In such circumstances, it would be difficult to be anything but serene.

No matter the season

My old apple tree in winter
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And trees offer up so much, regardless of the time of year. Even in the midst of winter, when they are as bare and pale and seemingly devoid of interest as a wet January afternoon, they are worth our attention. Leafless, we see their stark beauty and raw power. Few things are more photogenic than the silhouette of a tree at dusk or sunset.

Though they weather the most inclement of conditions, they seldom die. Instead, they stand as a model of resilience that we would all do well to emulate. Further, they contain a message of hope. ‘I may not be in leaf now,’ they seem to say, ‘but look how intricate and strong I am. Be patient, find your own strength and spring will soon be here.’

Nature’s calendar

Whilst I rely on my diary and calendar for daily tasks, it is to the trees that I look for news of the coming season. In winter, I search for the first buds to unfurl; in spring the bright green to dull to khaki as warmer days take hold. Autumn, obviously, speaks for itself.

And what better way to illustrate the seasons than through painting trees? Below are four postcards of famous artists’ impressions and who is to say which manifestation is more beautiful?

My own art work has focused on trees recently and heightened my observation and appreciation of these magnificent ‘vegetable beings’ . (William Boyd)

A hymn to trees

So let today be a hymn to trees, for gratitude moves us to mindfulness, which moves us to peace. Our search for consolation is only steps away from our door and given freely. We should remember to thank the trees, and if you feel the urge – give one a hug.


Share your skills

Yesterday, my delightful niece came for lunch and a lesson on how to make bread. I’d mentioned that I often made my own and offered to show her how. She was keen to accept. So between remote working (her) and dog walking (me), we set about making bread together.

My own experience of learning the art of bread making was rather more drawn out and frustrating. I’d follow one recipe after another to get okay results. Only after months (years?) of trial an error, I discovered that a second rise is not optional but mandatory and exactly what the dough should feel like when it is perfect. Answer: your earlobe! I picked up scraps of information here and there and eventually figured it out.

Well, we had to try it!
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

In the past, such endeavours would have been entirely unnecessary. My mother or grandmother would have shown me how or I would have learned from observation. But breadmaking, like so many lost skills, is something we often have to learn by ourselves. How much better to teach others what we know.

Restoring lost skills

So many skills that the older generation took for granted were lost when ready- made goods became more affordable. And no, I am not romanticising the often laborious tasks so many had to face. Knitting, sewing and darning every evening to make sure your family was well clothed is not what I’m talking about.

However, rising costs and a desire for more individual or better quality goods has made many younger folk turn to the skills performed by their forebears. And not just the young. My age group has shown a marked interest in the practical crafts, but what we lack are those to show us how.

I’ve crocheted my squares but don’t know how to join or edge them neatly!
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

My crocheted squares have languished in the basket for months, because I don’t know how to join them (except in the most basic way, which I don’t like) or to do a pretty edging. I’m stuck. Books are great, but they’re not the same as a hand to guide you.

Using the business model

Sharing skills or knowledge sharing, as it is know in the business world, has long been acknowledged as a vital component in a successful enterprise. After all, if one person knows how to do something and shows another, efficiency, confidence and productivity improve.

And yet, in the domestic sphere, we seem less willing to embrace this concept. Young people (and older!) go out into the world not knowing how to mend a shirt or tyre or make a healthy meal. When we neglect to pass on these vital abilities, we doom them to the cost of constantly replacing clothing, paying for expensive help and eating poorly.

My husband is a whizz at DIY and throughout their childhoods, the kids were encouraged to help lay floors, decorate etc. Their skills are now well beyond our own, but I hope that early introduction gave them the confidence to try.

My eldest has just built an exquisite home office in the grounds of his house. It is so cute, I’d quite like to move in myself.

A cabin in the garden ‘woods’. Image: Genevieve Costello-Spears

On-line learning

For many of us, the Internet is the place we turn to for advice. My husband has fixed my car using it and I have tackled many a craft project under its expert tuition. Indeed, there is almost nothing that can’t be learned via YouTube. But it is not quite the same as having a person to guide you.

One way of doing it Image: Lauren Mancke on Unsplash

And we all have skills. Probably many more than we realise. Sharing these is an opportunity to build relationships as well as passing on expertise. There are few things more delightful than giving someone the gift of knowledge and the empowerment that brings.

So don’t keep your skills to yourself. Share them. We can all do with a little help sometimes.