Winter holidays means games and puzzles, learning new skills, chasing the sunlight around the house, grumpy chickens, the garden reaching new depths of green, reading endless books, spending mornings crafting, picking flowers, and drinking mugs of tea to survive the chilly days. It means a whole lot of slowing down, being in our space, all together; our favourite place to be

Crisp, sunburned leaves. A shrivelled stem gasping for water. Grey, sandy soil that repels moisture—much like my legs in summer. Toss in a grassless lawn for dramatic effect, and you’ve got a snapshot of my gardening track record.

I once thought it was a brilliant idea to plant baby fruit trees during a 40+ degree January heatwave, straight into what could technically be described as “dirt,” but more closely resembled beach sand. Yes, I was that person. Of the three trees I planted, one heroically died and was respectfully composted. The cause of death? Possibly the soil, the sun, the lack of water—or maybe the tree just took one look at its new home and decided, “Yeah, nah.”