We’ve been stationary in the south of France for over a week and it’s finally given me the space to finish the new poetry pamphlet, The Slow-Time Traveller. I’m returning to a hand-stitched pamphlet for this in the way that Hanes, Prophecy, and DRKMTR were all made. Having a limited run and taking the time to make each piece feels fitting. There’s something connecting & grounding about this way of Slow Publishing. I wrote a poem for connecting with autumn/winter trees a couple of years ago that was gifted by an oak tree in Bala (it’s on the OUTSIDER blog), & knew then I’d write a complimentary spring/summer piece. But it didn’t come – or wasn’t offered, or I haven’t been open to it. So the second part hasn’t been written until this week, parked beneath ash trees. Even then it’s taken some days for me to tune into them. Working in Slow Time with nature teaches so much about patience, about relinquishing control & working with what is gifted, when it’s offered, instead of stamping thoughts & plans all over everything. This way of being is taking some time to fold into because I’m used to the world of people – of deadlines & expectations, of being a driving creative force with projects; of being asked to explain the inexplicable. But to work with nature means I cannot be that person anymore. I am shedding another skin. I am not the woman I was. The subtlety & nuance of the poetry of nature is slowly feeding into every atom of this wild life as I learn to quiet my own voice and tune into the language of The Land.