Winter gives us a hope of newness; an understanding that even when things feel stagnant, there is an unfolding yet occurring.

I wondered what this moose may have eaten in her wilder days in the forest, and what my ancestors would have gathered alongside the hunt.

Dandelion is an alchemist of sun and moon, earth and sky. She mirrors the solar rays as she flowers, and the full face of the moon as she seeds.

Dandelions are opening their sun-kissed faces, and Spruce tips, Horsetail, Fiddleheads, Stinging Nettle and Fireweed are all ready to emerge into their fullness. The pollinators are delighting in the unfurling abundance awaiting them, and so am I.

Last week in the south of Portugal, I wandered along vibrant streets lined with intricately tiled homes, flowering branches, dreamy bougainvillea vines and citrus trees heavy with ripe fruit.

My love of biomimicry has taught me that nature, by design, has the answers.

We look to the mossy woodlands for mushrooms like oysters, wood ears, giant puffballs, lions mane and scarlet elf cups to cook up for lunch, and decaying branches covered in turkey tail and birch polypores to gather for tinctures and teas.

As the sunlight wanes and the soft morning dew turns to frost, we start to feel within us the innate contraction of autumn.

An opportunity to embrace the Sun’s delights and celebrate the forthcoming season with a remembrance that we too are a sacred part of the cycle.

In regenerative gardening, we look to the cosmos for guidance in our convergence with Earth.