In February, I twice took a walk upon Pennard Hill, a paradise of undulating earth, combes, ridges, and springs, amidst fields lined by far-reaching hedges, carved through by ditches and…
As we drift on the unending ebb and flow of the season's comings and goings, the high tide of winter slowly retreats back into the depths from which it seeped,…
The year’s remnants dangle loosely. A flicker of Autumn tickled by the dusk light, awaiting that final gust to breathe them into death - the last leaves left! Summer was…
The dark of Samhain is upon us.The weeks are strewn across the lawn, days blown along on the autumn winds like leaves tossed off branches, dancing for moments before submitting…
As I begin writing this newsletter, the harvest moon makes a thin sliver in the dusk sky, like a tiny slit in the firmament through which the sun’s light seeps…
As the last sips of Summer’s heat rises it is kissed by the cool lips of the lunging fall. The view over Avalon becomes less floral and foliaged and all…
On the isle of Glastonbury, the harvest is already happening. In a friend’s garden, I watch pigeons gorge on elderberries. They bob and pluck at the dark clusters for hours,…
Out on the land, it feels like there is a pause. The striving to create slows, and attention is turned to developing that which has appeared. Having toiled for many…
https://youtu.be/G6Das38aXZg During this time of tiny fruits and towering flowers, when I’m laid down in the fields below the swaying grasses watching the narrow stems balance parasols of hogweed, cow…
Bring the outside in with the To The Trees Newsletter each Full Moon – Monthly creative writing from Matt’s walking adventures in Avalon. Also, news, upcoming events, and creative work not seen elsewhere.