I was a child that dreamt amongst the leaves and ached to feed my bare warm toes in cool mud. Nature was my ever-generous treasure chest, gifting me sweet finds of nibbled nuts and pearlescent shells. I would store them for quiet admiration in used matchboxes and discarded camera film cases. My struggles through my young life were always softened by the blackbirds’ song. Nature ran deep in my veins and I loved it whole heartedly. As I grew up my confidence slowly retreated, hiding itself beneath a fortress of brambles in my soul. I was constantly wandering my place, never fitting in. I daydreamed about frosty morning fields for most of my teenage years. After applying myself to many jobs that never quite felt right I realised that my release was to come home and create the wanders I had seen. Could I possibly turn this passion into something that feeds me? just as nature had done for my soul for all those years. I worried that with no formal training I would dissolve into the background but once more she was there to reassure me that she is my college of wild. So I simply began and with it the brambles that for so long encased my confidence began to flower. So that is how I find myself sat here in a shed under the willow tree with needle, wool and a shelf full of treasures.