March's Wild Notes

nettles awakening and solitary wren

Welcome to Wild Notes, my monthly letter to everyone following Wild Revival. I’m Jo, a forager and creative who finds both relief and inspiration in Nature, and this publication is where I share my seasonal noticings and plant wisdom with you. Think of it as a gentle prompt to get outside and interact with Nature in a way that feels nourishing to you. I’m so glad you’re here!

Hello my wild friends

I’ve been quiet again, and now we near the end of March, so this newsletter is more of a looking back (although we are always moving and looking forwards too, especially at this time of year if you are a forager or a gardener like me). So, I invite you to reflect alongside me, and I’ll pose some questions here for all of us. Whether you journal these, just answer them in your head, or share with me in the comments/an email reply, all is welcome.

• Which new plants have you noticed emerging this month/recently?

• What has delighted you, woken you up, or brought you back to your centre?

• What does your mind, heart, body and spirit need more of as we step into April?

A song for awakening - Ayla Schafer - Grandmother

Emergence

Where layers of grief, struggle and pain meet, on the surface of my body, on my soil, they rest and begin to decompose. Heavy at times, but nothing is static. The anxiety collects in the crooks of my inner elbows, the struggle lodges under my fingernails, fear, cold, in the cavity of my pelvic bowl; but also there are the gentle grey leaves from the Poplar trees, the bent and brittle, hollow stems of Hogweed, and the salty liquid from within and from the sea. All creating compost for emergence, substance and substrate from which growth can occur.

I’ve had a bit of a dance with productivity in the last few weeks. Some of you reading this recoil already at the mention of the word - me too - but you’ll no doubt find it familiar, this thought-pattern that gathers our self-worth from our output, sustained by the cultural norms. To be frank, I am adjusting to full-time single parenthood without the co-parent I used to rely on, struggling with depression and anxiety, coming to terms with my own neurospiciness even more as I try to get support for my son with the same issues, seeing to the well-being of my grieving boys, and above all just trying to stay afloat. It leaves me with a business I so dearly want to work on but don’t have the energy for, people requesting foraging and crafting workshops that I would adore to teach but am scared to commit to, and so many ideas that must sit while my brain is overwhelmed with social, emotional, financial and mental anxiety. There is emergence in this, there are new beginnings here, even here. Even here.

The Nettles have long been a close ally to me, and they are looking so lush right now on my walks. Cleavers pop up near to them under the hedges and in the woodland edges, the buds of Wych Elm have burst open and the Alder catkins are flowering, sending tiny pollen clouds on the wind. I’ve seen a lot of bees waking up, and the little Wren that frequents my back garden makes me smile so much.

Waking up

I’ve been in the sea again, and she has welcomed me back with open arms, over and over. I crave the cold that wakes up my whole body, my heart, my being. On sunny days I can’t wait for high tide and I wade out early so I don’t miss the chance for sun on the water and my skin. Yes, it’s cold. Of course it’s cold. And it’s lovely. As my friend Eleanor says as we pull on our recalcitrant clothing over damp, sandy feet ‘both can coexist’. And it’s true for my feelings, as it’s true for everything. Both can be there with us - absolute joy amongst friends in the sea, and a heart full of grief; exciting creative ideas and overwhelming social anxiety; the need to rest and the desire to run; decomposing, dead plants turning to soil and fresh new Nettle leaves.

What do we need more of?

I’ll leave this one in my head to ponder today, and perhaps you will too. I often find that Nature presents me with exactly what I need even when I don’t know myself what I need more of. My head will be full of anxious thoughts, spinning with worry, and the sun will come out on a walk and shine just so on the Alder catkins. Or I’ll be crying, feeling lonely and hopeless as I put more laundry on the line, and the young male Blackbird will land close to me in the garden and start throwing leaves around with abandon, making me laugh and come out of my head for a moment. Whatever it is you need more of, I will be holding you all in my thoughts and considering it done, it’s already on it’s way.

I’ll leave you with a few pictures of what I’ve been painting in the studio, with my natural plant inks. I feel like opening up my studio for a day and inviting you all in for a conversation - would you enjoy that?

Thankyou for being here, and listening to me, and I’ll be in touch with paid members shortly about a q&a session just for the Wild Revival membership - a chance to get your foraging questions discussed and answered, be encouraged to engage with Nature a little more and connect to our community here. If you’d like to join that, do upgrade to annual or monthly payment.

Speak soon,

Jo xxx