"Summer ends, and autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night."
—Hal Borland.

Dearest reader…

How has your August been?

It feels like a while since I wrote to you — the past weeks have been laced together in a constellation of ordinary and extraordinary summer moments (and a few exasperating ones too…!). Time by myself has been sparse and my days have been very full, so I have been led, mostly willingly, to let things go for a while, whilst my children have been on summer holidays.

It feels hard to believe that there is less than a week left of the holidays, before my daughter starts life in Year Two, and a few days later my son begins his school life in Reception.

It feels especially distant as we are spending the end of this month away, in Tenerife on glistening black volcanic sands, underneath the shade of palm trees and other tropical flora, swimming in the sea, rising with the sun and winding down as the sun sets in the distance behind the island of La Gomera in the west — new school shoes, pencil cases, haircuts and uniform (and labelling it all!) feel like a long way away…

A summer constellation.

August days have been interwoven with the ordinary and the extraordinary, and now at the end of the month, I am coming to realise that the two are closer than they seem. That the ordinary can be extraordinary simply by paying attention, and that often looking back, the ordinary moments are the most precious of times.

A summer constellation feels like an apt way to describe it — a collection of seemingly individual moments that when you take a step back, reveal a spellbinding pattern, shape or formation.

The ordinary moments have taken the shape of slower mornings with arrangements made deliberately late; the loosening of days with no routine or schedule to adhere to; countless hours in the sun-scorched park; mornings in the garden with breakfast outdoors; and finding comfort in my children’s claims of boredom, which I have come to understand as a sign that they have the space they need. And for me, a much yearned for return to reading. After years of craving it and finding only snatched pages that I couldn’t fully lose myself in, this summer I have finally found my way back to books — something I talked about in the lovely Summer Stack interview with which you can find below…

The Studio in the Margins

The Summer Stack: Interview with Lyndsay

In late June I shared my latest idea. The Summer List: A Reading Challenge and a collection of books to see us through the warmer months. But a reading list without conversations around books always feels like only half the story. I've always been curious about what other people are reading, and I love nothing more than talking about books and swapping recommendations which is exactly how The Summer Stack came about. Each interview in this series is a short, personal conversation with a writer I love about the books in their life…

Read more

15 days ago · 6 likes · 1 comment · Océane Meftah

The extraordinary moments do stand out in a different way — the mesmerising solar eclipse, when through a filter of trees a slice of sunlight obscured by the invisible new moon danced on the walls; arriving at the mysterious and mythical landscape of the Lakes after five hours travelling north from London; and here in Tenerife, the sun rising above the mountains each morning and sinking towards the horizon each evening. Each of these feels possible to hold onto, while ordinary moments seem to blur, merge and fade. Perhaps the extraordinary are the constellation’s brightest stars… yet looking back, the ordinary moments shimmer too, and are maybe even more deeply embedded within.

At the end of August, there is a natural shift from the outward display of summer moments, to the gathering in, and the first signs of autumn on their way. Although we are away during this initial late summer shift in London this year, I am delighted to hear reports from home that finally there is rain — something that I am sure will greet us on our return at the beginning of next week. The transition into late summer and the earliest inklings of autumn were heralded yesterday by the August full grain moon…

A Year of Moons | August | grain, corn and sturgeon.

Full Moon: Friday 28th August 2026.

August’s full moon arrives after the first harvests and carries the energy of gathering, nourishing and bringing in. The names ‘grain’, ‘corn’ and ‘barley’ moons speak of the preparation and harvesting of abundance from the growth seasons, ready for the darker, colder seasons ahead.

There is a noticeable change in the air at home — the first thing I sense is the gradual drawing in of the evenings, a cooling at the edges of the mornings, and the garden becoming faded and undone after the intensity of midsummer.

Late summer is one of my favourite times of year, and something I have written more about below…

The grain moon marks this threshold, it is the acknowledgement that the year is turning. With it, my thoughts turn to what I am harvesting, alongside the flowers from the garden that I intend to press, and where I too may have grown in the busy brightness of summer…

*What are you harvesting this season?

*What have you made, grown, tended or created that feels ripe and abundant?

*What can you let go?

The Softening in late summer.

Something I have been thinking about over the summer and looking forward to as the seasons shift, is The Softening — a collaborative online gathering for late summer which will take place on Wednesday 23rd September, 11am–12.30pm BST. It will complete the seasonal arc, and be the final edition in this form, before something new takes shape this autumn (more on this very soon!).

The Softening is part gathering, part creative cauldron. I offer seasonal themes and prompts rooted in the season, and invite contributors to share their own words, reflections, and creative responses. Everything shared is woven together into a digital guidebook that accompanies the session — a publication that carries the collective wisdom and creativity of the group, shaped by the season we are all moving through together.

This edition is themed around late summer — the earth element, the harvest, the softening of the light, the turning gently inwards before autumn arrives.

I would love to invite you to contribute.

You could share anything that feels alive for you around these themes, all through a lens of softness…

It could be:

• A poem or piece of writing about late summer, harvest or softening

• A garden observation or nature note from this season

• A late summer recipe or food ritual

• A reflection on what has grown this year

• A small ritual for the turning season

• A photograph or image that captures late summer for you

• A line or two with your interpretation of the season — even the smallest offering is welcome

There are no rules around length or form. Everything is welcome and the guidebook is always richer and more beautiful for its variety.

Please send your contribution to lyndsaykaldor@gmail.com by Friday 4th September, with a little flexibility if you need it.

More details below, and feel free to send me a message or email with any questions…

Thank you for reading my letter about the moments that made up this August. I would love to hear how your month has been, and what was illuminated by the full grain moon…

With much late summer love,

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, thank you for reading, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

—Emily Dickinson.

Dearest reader…

How has your week or so been? We are fully immersed in the school holidays here, when the days are long and full, and yet blur together in a haze of lovely summer things.

We have spent the past week or so in and around home with trips to the woods, the park, a favourite local café serving the best babyccino according to my daughter, and a play spot from earlier days that we don’t get to so often now they are at school (oh, and work and writing here squeezed in around it all!). It’s been low key and full on in equal measure, when there is barely an inch of space amongst it all, and it feels both like one hundred years since we were at school ten days ago, and at the same time like time is slipping through my fingers.

A walk around my small London garden first thing before my children are dressed, with a cup of tea in hand, inspired this post. The garden in July seems to be the place where everything is unravelling, but some things are just beginning… it feels very reminiscent of where I am at, and perhaps you are too…?

The fullness of the summer holidays.

September had always felt like a beginning to me, with decades of starting a new educational year in September, and the first day of school often coinciding with my birthday, there has always been a fond and familiar freshness to the month. However, last September I did not feel ready to begin again, and I certainly didn’t feel refreshed. After a wild and wonderful summer with my children, with both of them off for the whole six plus weeks, I felt exhausted, and in need of a quiet, secluded retreat where I could be alone, with nothing asked of me for an extended period of time…one day!

I felt at once hugely grateful for the flexibility my work affords me to spend this time with my children, but there was a tinge of resentment that I hadn’t felt able to carve out alone-time to fill my own cup, or spend dedicated time on my creative work (two things that are most often interchangeable). Nothing that I had planned to launch in autumn was ready, and although I had softened to the fact that things would take longer, it was frustrating to put my thoughts, ideas and plans on hold for the best part of a season.

Here we are a year on, at the end of July — an in-between month, inhabiting a lull between the growth seasons and the first harvest on 1st August. In recent days and weeks, I have noticed the garden unravelling with growth, exuberance and some tiredness, some things are fading, whilst others are just beginning. It seems to mirror the way I have been feeling this month as we raced towards the end of term — the feeling of unravelling (on many levels!), of the need to reach an end point and closure on the past year of school and my son’s last year of nursery at the school before starting Reception, and yet holding the unknown of the weeks ahead, and the beginnings beyond…

July, in many ways, is a month of lasts (as well as firsts), it comes with tenderness, tiredness, chaos, grief, relief, longing, pride, and bewilderment at where the last year has gone. It is exhausting in its waves of emotion, it holds both an intensity, and an emptiness without the usual routines (I have already heard the words “I’m so bored” many times, which I am taking as a good thing that my children have some space to think and feel). The summer holidays stretch out ahead — long summer days, full of possibility but also overwhelm at the juggle of everyone’s needs, and remembering my own. Perhaps rather than being about endings or beginnings, July is the middle of everything, the messy and the magic, a time that holds the unmistakable alchemy of being in the thick of it all.

July’s invitation.

July marks a shift into the second part of the year. It inhabits a brief but luscious pause between the growth seasons — we have moved all the way from the dark stillness of winter, through the unfurling energy of spring, and into the expansive light of early summer. After the summer solstice, and the slow return of the sun, the invitation shifts from growth to integration, and from expansion to gathering in. The second half of the year asks us not to do more, but to grow into and layer onto what we have already done; to integrate what is working, and let go of what is not.

As we approach the first harvest, called Lammas or Lughnasadh in the Celtic Wheel of the Year on 1st August, it is the ideal time to look back on the first part of the year; not in order to set new goals but to notice the texture of our days so far, of what has felt good and what might need to shift.

These past months to me have felt like a gradual transition from dreaming and imagining, to the earthy work of laying foundations and leaving footprints on a path, with the steady building of a community gathering moon by moon, hosting the first Your Story Starts Here storytelling and PR workshop, and starting work on my new website. But more than each of these things individually, everything feels a lot clearer.

Just like the shifts in the living world, seasons change continually, where often the beginning is imperceptible and blurs with the season that comes before it (see winterspring!). The moon too, keeps on turning with incremental changes taking place between the new and full moons. A culmination of the smallest shifts begin to whisper that we are in a whole new phase.

Starting in the middle.

It feels like a comfort to me, that the months ahead are not a blank slate but instead a continuation. This summer, I am giving myself permission to tend to myself and my creativity when quiet moments arise, but also to let things go when the time, or my energy does not allow. I am reminding myself to seize and create the space when things are calm around me and I am craving seeing the outline of myself a little clearer, as I do when I sit down to write. I am reminding myself that I can begin again any time, in the middle of week, season, and year, in the mess and the chaos, in the fullness and the ordinariness, because chances are that it will be some time before the ideal moment arrives…

And at the same time, knowing that the lull and a slower pace is a part of the continuous spiral of growth outwards and the gathering inwards. That it is a courageous and resilient act to pick up where you left off time and time again, to find the thread wherever it was lost in the midst of everything else. That as we are constantly changing and evolving, like the world beyond our windows, that it is never too late.

A Year of Moons | July | thunder, hay and blessing.

Full moon: Wednesday 29th July 2026.

The thunder moon is rising and reaching fullness tonight, and it feels like the right time to bring in something that is a continuation of everything seasonal and cyclical, with each moon carrying a fascinating, storied name (or a few) that is a compass pointing us to where we are, and what the month is asking of us.

The electric and intense thunder moon rises tonight, during the ‘dog days’ (from the beginning of July to mid-August), a phrase that dates back to ancient times when it was believed that Sirius, the Dog Star rose alongside the sun, combining their heat to bring high temperatures and drought… it certainly rings true this year with the news of widespread wild fires in the UK and Europe. The sun and moon in July hold a tension together; the aliveness and the unravelling, the intensity and the release, much like I felt at the end of the school year.

July’s moon has several names originating from different cultures over thousands of years — the thunder moon in relation to dramatic summer storms; the hay moon for the beginning of the gathering and provision; and the blessing moon for the gratitude for all that has grown. The energy of July’s moon is not soft, sweet or still but alive, abundant and vibrant.

*What feels most alive to you right now?

*What are you gathering to take with you into the months ahead?

*What blessing(s) have been bestowed from the growth seasons?

Thank you for reading my July-shaped thoughts, I would love to hear if any of my musings resonate with you and if you are feeling a sense of unravelling or beginning, or both, in any areas of your life…

With much full July moon love,

P.S. You can find much more summer writing here, including…

P.P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread. below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

"Attention is the beginning of devotion."
—Mary Oliver.

Dearest reader

How is July going for you? This month always feels like a combination of holding on and letting go to me — so much happening at once, a kind of exquisite, exhausting momentum that carries us all the way to the end of term, before finally breaking, like a much-needed thunderstorm.

July so far has been full to the brim and I have been entirely consumed — with birthday parties, school assemblies and concerts, meeting new teachers, reuniting with old friends, and last week, a school trip to the seaside with ninety little ones for big skies, seaside fun, and of course, ice cream. Despite the gloriousness of summer in full swing, I am craving the quiet moments in the shaded corners, and today for just a short time I have found them…

All paths lead here, a two-part series is a re-introduction, a laying of foundations and a weaving of values and themes throughout my words here, and in life. It explores the seven threads that run through Story & Thread. Part one covered storytelling, homecoming, beauty and softening. Today, Part Two explores creativity, seasonal living and community, and it ends with a summer gift.

I hope you are able to find a cool, shaded corner too, to sit with me for a while…

All paths lead here — part two.

On creativity, seasonal living and community, and the story that runs through all of it.

If you missed Part One, you can find it here — exploring storytelling, homecoming, beauty and softness as the first four threads that run through Story & Thread.

Join me to continue weaving the Story & Thread. tapestry…which thread will you follow?

CREATIVITY | we express our full selves.

The word create is thought to have come into use in the early fifteenth century, meaning “to bring into being.” It comes from the Latin creare — to make, bring forth, produce — and is related to crescere, meaning to arise, to be born, to grow. It shares its root with Ceres, the Roman goddess of farming, fertility, nourishment and maternal relationships, honoured for releasing the creative and regenerative power of the earth.

I love the idea that creativity, the earth and mothering are, at their root, the same impulse — the urge to bring something into being, to tend it, and to let it grow (and often, at some point, to let it go).

Living creatively is important to me. I fill the quiet moments with words, colour, scent, sound, taste and texture. I write to reclaim space for my thoughts, to explore the things I am intrigued by — to notice, feel, make sense of, and tell the everyday stories of our life, in the hope of framing a fragment of time, before it slips away.

After optimistically buying a set of paints in the final days of January 2020 before my daughter was born, I soon learned that the time I had naively envisaged for my creative pursuits was to be absorbed wholly by the millions of micro-moments that make up mothering. And so over the next months (and years), creating in the edges became very familiar to me — snuck into pockets of time when babies slept; sometimes words gathered into the Notes app., but most of them dropping in as I walked the same paths with a baby strapped to my chest.

As Louise Erdrich writes in The Blue Jay’s Dance: A Birth Year, bringing children into the world and pouring yourself into their care is itself a profound creative act — one that “rapturously sucks up whole chunks of life.” The act of mothering is not the thing that happens instead of creativity, it is the most creative act there is.

For me, living creatively is when I am noticing the details, though it can be easy to get caught up in the whirlwind and forget, especially as my children grow older and we begin to manage various external routines. The act of noticing is also one of remembering and for me, is the most direct route to feeling all the way alive and fully immersed in life. I try to remember that modelling this curiosity, this way of paying attention, is itself a form of teaching and guiding my children, and that it is more than enough.

Living creatively in this chapter of life is simultaneously feeling wonder when the stars align to find spells of flow, and softening to the snatched moments, the inevitable interruptions, the imperfect and the unfinished.

I loved hearing these words from ,

“Do not dismiss the power of creating something amid so much destruction. To build beauty from your own heart and choose to share it is no small thing. It is what the world needs. A tiny act that becomes a seed for more. A gift that will regenerate beyond what you might ever know. And, perhaps most potent, is that the choice to create will widen your heart and change you first.”

I am learning that creativity is not something to be saved up and returned to once the other things are done. It is the thread that runs through everything — the way we make sense of the world, express who we are, and leave something of ourselves behind.

How we live most creatively.

Creativity is not separate from our lives, reserved for an unexpected quiet hour or a rare stretch of alone-time; it is woven through the whole of life, running beneath the surface of even the busiest, most ordinary days. It is in the noticing — the way you take time to arrange things on a table; the path you choose on a walk in the woods; the flowers that catch your eye; the story you tell your children at bedtime.

At Story & Thread., you are encouraged to come back into relationship with your own creativity — to make space and honour it, however small and imperfect that space might be. To join a community of others writing and making amidst it all, and to discover that the margins are often where the most meaningful work happens. Here, creativity is not something to return to once the other things are done, it is already here, waiting to be noticed.

**Where is creativity already living in your life, and where might you make a little more space for it?

You can read more about creativity here…

SEASONAL LIVING | we honour the wisdom in every season.

I remember hearing the words “a flower doesn’t bloom all year round” from a yoga teacher one cold, winter morning around ten years ago. It was so simple, but somehow the words landed in a way I hadn’t appreciated before.

Of course it should have been obvious, and yet I had been living my life as though I should be ‘in bloom’ all of the time — as though constant availability, consistent productivity, and an endless summer state was required, and was actually possible. That simple phrase unknowingly became embedded within, and began a slow unravelling and homecoming. Gradually, the wisdom of the seasons started to trickle into my sense of knowing, and I began to soften my gaze. I slowly began to value the rest and receptivity that comes with winter and the inward seasons, and stopped resisting the darker, quieter chapters, and started to look for what they were offering instead.

In the hazy early days of mothering, which stretched out during the incongruously bright spring of the first lockdown in 2020, I found that paying attention to the seasonal rhythms was a way to orient myself as the days passed in a blur of holding, feeding, rocking and tending. I am unable to recall dates from that time, but I remember the colour of the sky, the feel of the air, the way the light fell when certain things took place. The sound of birdsong in the woods; the slant of the sunrise through the window, the framing of the light. All of these things became my compass. We are not separate from nature — and in that strange, suspended season which in many ways felt like my very own winter contained within a beautiful spring, nature reminded me of that more clearly than it ever had before.

The seasons continue to teach me that time is not linear but rounded and full; with ebbs and flows, light and shadow, layers and depths. There is a feeling of coming full circle each time we witness the turning of the leaves in autumn, the bare branches against the cold sky in winter, the luminescent snowdrops emerging in early spring, the strengthening of the sun and softening of the air in the long summer days.

Even now, in my writing, creativity and work, I find prompts and nudges from what is taking place in the season beyond my window. There is comfort to be found in the small, sometimes imperceptible daily changes that mirror our own cyclical way of being. Things are always shifting and growing, even when it is not yet visible. And when we let go and allow things to unfold, they often do, in their own time, exactly as they are meant to.

How we honour the wisdom of the seasons.

At Story & Thread., you are invited to slow down enough to notice what the season beyond your window is offering, and to let it guide you. We create time and space to observe, to take creative cues from the natural world, and to mark the transitions and thresholds that punctuate the year. By weaving together seasonal reflections, poetry and prose, flowers and folklore, moon wisdom and the intelligence of the earth, we craft a sustainable container for creativity — a place to shape our stories, tend our inner landscape, and remember that we too are cyclical beings, with our own ebbs and flows, our own seasons of growth and rest.

Here, you are encouraged to value every season of the year and every season of your life — to find the gift in the fallow as much as the flowering, and to trust that even when growth is not yet visible, something is always becoming.

**Which season are you in right now, in the world beyond your window, in your creativity, and within yourself?

You can read more about seasonal living here…

COMMUNITY | we find comfort and strength when we gather together.

There is something that happens when women come together with intention. Something shifts; stories surface that might otherwise have stayed buried and creative energy moves more freely. In the company of others, we remember things we had forgotten about ourselves, we see things in a way we may have never previously seen, and we recognise feelings that feel instantly familiar.

Early human communities gathered around hearths that served multiple purposes — warmth, light, nourishment, protection, but also something less tangible and just as vital, the intimacy of sharing that happened in the firelight. Historically, the hearth was a place for the exchange of stories, and the reinforcement of connection and belonging across the long, dark nights.

Harvard’s longest longitudinal study on human flourishing tells us that the people who live the most fulfilled lives are those with a sustained thread of meaningful connection running through their lives. Yet we live in a society that over time has dismantled the structures of community; that asks us to prioritise self-improvement, self-care and self-regulation, when what we often need is kinship and co-regulation, the sense of settling when being held by others. We are so often expected to navigate and process our experiences alone, when the architecture of our nervous systems was built for connection.

A dear friend and fellow writer, , whose work and way of being has been important to me since the earliest days of my own mothering, writes about this with great clarity; the idea that so many of the things we seek in healing and self-improvement are things that community was always meant to provide. That being truly seen, held and witnessed, is not something that can happen in isolation, that it requires others.

My own understanding of this became visceral in the first months of my daughter’s life, which unfolded during the pandemic. The usual anchors of new motherhood were not available after the first few weeks — the family visits, the meet-ups with friends, my NCT group, or indeed any baby classes, all dissolved before they had really begun.

Alongside my daily walks in the woods, what held me were small, luminous circles of connection — online mother and baby courses, daily meditation and creative gatherings with women, many I had never met in person but whose faces I grew used to seeing in the little squares of their lives. It taught me that although gathering together in person carries a special kind of medicine, connection does not necessarily require proximity. That a small group of women gathered with intention, even through a screen, can be a source of warmth and steadiness.

How we find comfort and strength in community.

Story & Thread. exists as an act of resistance against the culture of solitude and individual striving — a place where gathering itself is understood as a creative and restorative act. Through A Softer Space, our in-person gatherings in North London; our online seasonal creative community spaces including Gather & Tend, and the new Your Story Starts Here workshop, we come together to tend to our creative work, to find, and to share our stories.

There is more to come in the seasons ahead — more ways to gather, to be in community around storytelling and the seasons, and more ways to be seen and to witness others in fullness. Watch this space…

**Where in your life are you craving more connection — and what might it feel like to be truly seen?

You can read and experience more community here…

Find your story with me.

As a summer gift and to thank you so much for continuing to be here weaving the Story & Thread. tapestry with me, I wanted to share something with you — Find Your Story is a gentle guide for makers, writers, creatives and visionaries who are quietly doing something extraordinary, and are ready to find the words to share it.

Your story is not separate from your work. It is the thread that runs through everything — the thing that connects you to your community, to your creativity, to the season around you and within.

The workbook moves through three simple steps: Finding (who you are and what you stand for), Shaping (your story and your voice) and Telling (your first next step in sharing your story with your community, and beyond). You can find the full PDF of the guide below…

Find Your Story guidebook

14.2MB ∙ PDF file

Download

A gentle guide for makers, writers, creatives and visionaries who are quietly doing something extraordinary, and who are ready to find the words to share it.

Download

You are invited to begin where you are, and whenever the time materialises. I hope it is something you will be able to immerse yourself in, mull over when life takes over, and return to again and again. We will be delving into this in more depth together in The Beauty Thread. community with the Your Story Starts Here workshop in autumn.

Subscribe now

I hope you enjoyed reading the second part of All paths lead here. I would love to hear which thread resonates with you most, and whether anything surfaced as you read. Do share in the comments, I always love hearing from you.

With much high summer love,

P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread. community by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

“Colour can pull you in, turn you around, shift your mood and make you think”. —Sarah Robertson.

Dearest reader…

Here we are in July! I hope you are finding your summer rhythm, it feels as though we are racing towards the end of term here, but I am trying to soak it all up, in amongst all the many things to remember!

Today I am delighted to hand over to a friend and collaborator, for a piece that feels very at home at Story & Thread.

Sarah was one of the first writers I found on Substack, around three years ago, and we have been in each other’s creative orbit ever since. There has always been a lot of synergy between our approaches to creativity and business, both of us firmly rooted in the seasons and storytelling. We have collaborated a number of times over the years, and recently Sarah contributed a beautiful piece to The Softening about blooming sustainably, to avoid burnout. Today’s piece on colour walks has been waiting in the wings, and now in high summer, it feels like the right moment to share it.

I am also so excited to share that Sarah’s first book, Shape Your Brand Story, is now available to pre-order — published with 91 Editions and dispatching this autumn. After twenty years of helping founders find their voice, Sarah has created a guide to branding with intention, season after season, grounded in the four pillars of strategy, style, story and substance. A book that is going straight to the top of my autumn TBR pile! You can pre-order your copy here.

Colour is something I feel deeply. In my work, home, and life — I am always drawn to the same tones and palettes, returning to them and choosing them again and again. I have long been fascinated by the history, psychology and symbolism of colour, and through years of working with interior designers, I have seen how transformative a considered approach to colour can be.

I love the idea that we can let colour lead us somewhere new, which is exactly what Sarah’s colour walk practice invites us to do…

Living your life in colour.

Finding inspiration in nature’s palette with a colour walk.

by Sarah Robertson.

In The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rick Rubin explores the art of creative rejuvenation, emphasising that inspiration is often found in the way we inhabit the world. One such way to practice this is through a colour walk.

The concept dates back to the 1970s in New York. It’s credited to the artist and educator William Burroughs, who encouraged his students to follow colours as a way to break away from habitual routes and open themselves up to fresh perspectives. The practice was later popularised by journalist Phyllis Holman Weisbard, who framed it as a vital tool for artists and writers seeking new ideas.

While traditional colour walks often focus on a single, specific hue — hunting for red, green or blue — I find there’s a deeper, more restorative magic in total immersion. Instead of seeking out one colour, I love “colour spotting” and filling myself up with the entire spectrum, witnessing the world in transition.

“I found I could say things with colour and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way – things I had no words for.”

— Georgia O’Keeffe.

The beauty of colour spotting.

When we shift our focus from our internal worries to the external world, we experience several profound shifts:

• Heightened mindfulness: By actively looking for colour, you’re forced to be present. You notice the subtle details in a city street or a forest path that the rushing mind usually ignores.

• Mental relaxation: This practice acts as a walking meditation. By anchoring your attention to the visual world, you naturally begin to distance yourself from the “inner chatter” — the constant loop and mental clutter.

• Creative inspiration: For the artist or the dreamer, observing the interplay of light and pigment offers a visual library. It breaks the monotony of daily life and offers new ways of seeing.

Observing a familiar place through the lens of colour can also make the mundane feel a little more extraordinary. It reveals hidden beauty in the most overlooked corners of our lives.

A colour walking guide.

Instead of following a map or a single colour, I invite you to follow your curiosity — whether through a specific palette or the changing tones of the season. By observing the interplay of soft, deep, or bright tones, you can anchor yourself in the present moment.

1. Set an intention
   Before you step out, decide what your focus will be. You can hunt for specific colour combinations like blues and pinks, seek out soft pastels or bright neons or walk to soak in as much colour as you can.

2. Abandon the map
   Let the colours dictate your direction. If a sudden patch of deep, emerald green catches your eye at the end of a street, let that guide you. The beauty of this practice lies in its randomness; you’re not walking to a destination.

3. Engage your senses
   When a colour catches your eye, notice how it feels. Is the bright yellow crisp and sharp? Is the soft pink smooth and blurred? Observe the relationship between colour and texture to anchor you more deeply in the moment.

4. Harvest your findings
   To complete the cycle, you might like to document your experience, take photographs or jot down a few words in a journal about the most striking colours you saw. Turn your stroll into a lasting creative reset.

The brand designer lens.

There’s a path near my house that winds around the fields I look onto. It’s a peaceful stretch here in the Scottish Borders where I’ll pass the odd dog walker, a keen runner, or occasionally a tired farmer bobbing on a tractor through his land.

Lately, the walk has felt brighter, more alive. The rapeseed oil is here for the first time since I moved from Edinburgh four years ago, marking the landscape with shocking yellow. I’ve taken so many photos of the scene, which looks as though a paintbrush has been swept across it.

In my design work, I explore my Pantone books for colour inspiration, but I also look to my home and the world. Choosing brand colours is more than an aesthetic choice; it is a powerful way to reinforce a message and enhance an identity. I often lean into seasonal colour theory to guide this, recognising that just as the natural world comes alive in summer, a brand can flourish when its palette captures its true essence and speaks to its audience’s emotions.

Colour can pull you in, turn you around, shift your mood and make you think.

A glimpse into the spectrum.

To bring the practice of colour spotting or walking to life, I’ve gathered a few moments from a recent walk. Below is a moodboard of the textures and tones I encountered, along with the palette they inspired…

A colour walk is a recalibration of the senses. When you return from your stroll, you may find the world doesn’t look quite the same as it did when you left — you arrive home with a fuller, more colourful perspective.

Tell me: have you been on a colour walk? Did you enjoy the experience? Tell me about your favourite colours in nature.

Leave a comment

More about Sarah:

Sarah Robertson is the creator of the Brand Seasons® Method, a cyclical approach to branding and business that inspired the Brand Seasons® Playdeck and Playbook.

Through her storytelling studio, Fonn, she helps founders, makers and creatives define their vision, craft beautiful visuals and discover their voice. You can find more reflections on intentionality and creativity at her Substack, This Creative Life.

Sarah’s first book, Shape Your Brand Story, is being published with 91 Editions this autumn and is now available to pre-order.

This Creative Life

Exploring the creative process with curiosity. Sharing stories + fragments through the seasons. Helping you craft a brand that feels like home.

By Sarah Robertson

I hope you enjoyed finding out more about the joy, nourishment and creativity that can be gained by taking an intentional colour walk. I am feeling inspired to take myself out on a summer colour walk in the coming days — I would love to hear what you find if you take one too…

With much high summer love,

P.S. I wrote a letter detailing everything I know about summer last week, you can catch up here if you missed it…

P.P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread. by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

"It was June, and the world smelled of roses.

The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside."

—Maud Hart Lovelace.

Dearest reader…

How are you doing in this heat? London has been sweltering this week — the kind of potency that slows everything down whether you planned it or not. Despite its challenges, there is something about a heatwave that gives us permission to do less, to be still, and to remove the non-essential. It’s been intense and relaxed in equal measure…!

This easing of routine and hint of the undone feels apt just after the solstice, a point in the year that asks us to pause. This year, I have found the solstice to be a useful marker to reflect on everything that has happened since the depths of winter, and to think about how I want to integrate it all into the next phase, as the sun begins its return.

As part of this pause, I have also been reflecting on my experience of summer as a whole — sitting with its recurring patterns and motifs, and what it means to return to the same season with new eyes each year. I hope you can find a shaded corner and a cold drink to settle in for a while…

The shape of summer, through a different lens.

Each year, summer arrives differently and takes on its own shape, and yet I find myself retracing the same paths, noticing the same patterns and motifs returning like familiar threads woven through the linen fabric of the season. Many of the same ideas, feelings, and realisations arise — only with more layers of understanding each time I come back to them.

Sometimes summer begins early, like last year, with sunshine stretching out from early spring days. Some years there is a lot of back and forth, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like it gets going at all. This year, the beginning of summer carried the contrast of intense heat interspersed with sharp, cooler downpours which were sometimes tricky to navigate — yet the interchangeable rain and shine left a profusion of colour and blooms in its wake.

Despite all the potential and possibility that summer carries, there is something that also conjures a deep nostalgia in me — the strongest feelings of familiarity and longing. Perhaps it is the yearly rhythm of sports days, school fairs, and long ice cream afternoons in the park? Or maybe it is the summers I have imagined unfolding ahead of me — the unhurried mornings, undone beds, the days allowed to fill themselves without agenda or rush… the sort of summer it could be, if I make space for it all.

Perhaps more than attempting to pin down memories and visions, summer is an unmistakable feeling that is interwoven into the moments of each summer day — on waking already bathed in light; within the softer morning air in a garden still shaded and fresh with dew; when getting dressed for simplicity and ease above anything else; as I watch golden hour glaze the bricks of the neighbouring houses and the scent of al fresco dinners and barbecues drift over the fence; and when I finally fall asleep with the windows open.

I have written about summer many times over the years, and when I look back at what I have written, I notice that the same ideas return, the same patterns and motifs, the light and shadows — albeit with a subtly altered lens. So I am gathering them all here, in one place, like a wildflower patch of things I know — the threads that run through each summer, however it unfolds…

Summer is about the light.

There is a luminescence suffused in summer days that finds us everywhere — even under heavy rainclouds, in the shade, and even at the end of a day. Despite feeling more appreciation for the light as it lengthens, I also find myself skirting the edges of it more as each year passes. I find comfort in the cooler corners of the day now, seeking out the shade where I once sought full sun.

I recently learned from The Almanac: A Seasonal Guide to 2026 by Lia Leendertz, that everywhere in the British Isles north of the southernmost tip of Cornwall will not reach full darkness at all this month because the sun doesn’t dip low enough below the horizon for true night to fall. Instead we experience an ombre of twilight, the darkest being ‘astronomical twilight’, until the sun dips low enough again that no sunlight is present, which will not happen again until August.

I find that it is often in the shade that I notice the season’s magic most clearly. It is in the space and silhouettes around summer happenings and in the fading remnants of the day that we absorb the feeling that will become that familiar ache for summers past.

Summer is not about peaking.

We marked the summer solstice earlier this week — every year it creeps up, and with it a realisation that we are halfway through the year. Yet to me, the summer solstice is not a midpoint or a pinnacle — it is a portal, a deepening and a pause when the sun stands still before beginning its slow, almost imperceptible descent.

Rather than a crescendo, the solstice is an invitation for integration. It is a time to turn inward even in the brightest season, to reflect on what has grown, what we have learned, and what we need more (or less) of in the next phase. It takes us from the outward, yang energy of expansion, and invites us towards a reorientation — a redirecting of the light.

Summer at its fullest does not need to be the loudest, but instead it is a time of being our most awake and alive — a deepening into wholeness, becoming more of ourselves. Summer is not a peak to perform, but a fullness to inhabit.

The garden is a guide, not a backdrop.

This is the fourth summer in our garden and each season teaches me something new. I now know that a summer garden is not in constant bloom. It is an undulating entity, pacing itself in a well-rehearsed sequence — early summer flowers reach their peak before going over, allowing others to come to the fore.

The dreamy foxgloves have all but faded now, whilst the roses bloom on and the cosmos are opening their perfect celestial faces to the sun. I am realising that the gentle tending and noticing is important, but so is leaving the garden to its own devices, especially in the wildness of summer.

There is a lull.

From midsummer until the first harvest at the beginning of August, there is a luscious lull — a time between growth and harvest that is both fallow and full. Fallow in the sense that there is no need for productivity or urgency; full in the sense that everything is reaching its deepest expression. August holds both and asks us simply to rest inside it.

On the cusp of August there is an unmistakable shift — the sun hangs a little lower in the sky, the morning air feels different on our skin, petals begin to fade at the edges and take on a patina like antique brass. In August, we approach a threshold, moving from the exuberance of growth to the ripeness of gathering. It is, as Tove Jansson wrote, “the border between summer and autumn; the most beautiful month I know.”

August is not an ending but a time to linger in its golden days.

Late summer is a homecoming.

I was born in early September, and there is something about the particular quality of the light in late August that feels more like home to me than anywhere else in the year. The heavenly dahlias, the swaying pink Japanese anemones, and the luminous asters, just as the hydrangeas become tinged with time and the lavender begins to fade.

I have only learnt in recent years that late summer is its own distinct season, recognised by Traditional Chinese Medicine, which anchors it in the earth element: abundance, stability, nourishment, the harvest gathering in. Late summer is a soft, hazy, liminal space that asks for nothing more than a slow and gentle return.

Looking to the summer moons.

This summer, for the first time, I have names for thoughts I had been returning to without knowing what to call them.

I have been mapping a full year of moons and their folk names, conjured by centuries of human observation, from Native American and Anglo-Saxon and Celtic traditions, from medieval Europe and ancient agricultural communities who watched the sky with the kind of attention and connection that many of us have lost.

Each moon carries a name that is also a map and a compass: showing where we are in the year, what the land is doing, and what the season is asking of us…

The rose moon arrives early next week, at midsummer — soft and fierce, open and boundaried, the brightest expression of the light and the deepest shade in the same flower.

The thunder moon rises in July, electric and intense, during the time of the ‘dog days’, a phrase that reaches back to ancient Greece and Rome. It is the sultry, undone stretch of high summer when Sirius the Dog Star rises with the sun, and the heat often becomes languid and feverish (I think we have already felt aa hint of this!), when things loosen and unravel at the edges. The thunder moon and the dog days hold that tension together — the aliveness and the dissolution, the electricity and the release.

The grain moon in August carries the first harvest — the gathering in of what has grown, the beginning of the end of summer’s outward expression. And the harvest moon in September, also called the singing moon, is rooted in the songs, ceremonies and celebrations that have accompanied the autumn equinox and the harvest festivals.

Whilst the names are ancient, they transcend time and tell their own stories — passing down the knowledge and wisdom of those who stayed close to the land and the seasons. It feels important this year to anchor even more deeply to the earth’s rhythm and to pass it on, to create a place where the act of noticing and tending is named, held, and shared.

What is being illuminated.

Summer is a season of illumination and has a way of revealing things. Under this summer light, what I see most clearly is community.

My own entry into motherhood happened during the pandemic — a time when the ordinary anchors of new motherhood were not available to me. What held me were small, luminous circles of connection: online new mother and baby courses, daily meditation gatherings, postnatal yoga and creative nourishment with women I had never met in person but who became a quiet lifeline in those early, tender weeks and months.

It taught me that a group of women gathered with intention, even through a screen, even across oceans, can be an anchor and source of comfort. That co-regulation — the settling that happens when we are genuinely witnessed by others is not a luxury, it is a need. Just like in those early shelters, constructed around hearths that served practical purposes, to provide warmth, light, cooking, and protection, were also a place to gather and tell stories.

And so community now underpins everything... A Softer Space — gatherings at my home, under each moon’s particular medicine, as the year turns; Gather & Tend. — coming together online to tend to our creative work in the company of others; the new Your Story Starts Here workshop — small groups of women finding their way into their own stories together and learning how to share them. There is more to come — more ways to gather around storytelling and be witnessed in the work of shaping and sharing our voices.

What is noticing, if not together?

As we reach the full rose moon early on Tuesday…I wanted to ask, what is being illuminated for you this year?

Which patterns and motifs are returning for you this summer, the same threads from summers past? And what are you noticing for the first time?

With much rose moon love,

P.S. You can find much more summer writing here, including the posts below…

P.P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread. by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello, I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread. — a home for writing, gathering, and storytelling through meaningful PR. This is a cosy, welcoming place to come home to yourself, to tend to your creativity, and to notice the quiet power of beauty and wonder as the seasons turn.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden, woven through with the rhythm of the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread. — a creative community for seasonal gatherings, co-working spaces, and a home for finding your voice and shaping your story, including the Find Your Story guide and the Your Story Starts Here workshop (coming autumn 2026).

“Come out here where the roses have opened.
Let soul and world meet.”

—Rumi.

Dearest reader…

I wanted to write a short note after our Gather & Tend. co-working in summer session this week — the time was very welcome and allowed me to fully land (albeit in the middle of the week) after a busy few days… with a very memorable Sunday spent in Paris with friends (an organisational feat to get us all together), and then Monday and Tuesday full with work. It took until mid-week to feel my feet on the ground, and it reminded me of the the wisdom that comes with starting where we are, and beginning again…

Gather & Tend. in summer.

During the session, we took some time to check in with ourselves and the season unfolding, casting our minds to the summer solstice that arrives this Sunday — the longest day here in the northern hemisphere, when the sun will appear to stand still, solstitium, lingering in the sky before it begins its return. It is both a celebration and an invitation to pause, gather ourselves inwards and linger a little longer, just as the sun does.

During the session, we sat with the prompts…

• what can you celebrate from the growth seasons since the depths of the winter solstice in December?

• And then, the other side of that same question — where are you feeling pressure to have bloomed, to have peaked, to have made the most of every drop of light, and where might you let yourself linger instead?

A collective oracle card for summer.

I pulled a collective card for all of us from The Green Witch Oracle Deck by by Arin Murphy-Hiscock.

**Sage | wisdom | purification | harmony.

Sage is a wise herb. It reassures you that you are grounded and stable, and that the wisdom you need is easily accessible if you look in the right place. The Sage card reminds you that insight can appear from unlikely sources. Being in harmony with your environment allows you to receive messages and act on them more easily than if you are living in discord. Listening can bring balance and purification can remove obstacles that further cloud that exchange of information and communication.

Remember that what may not make sense now might fall into place later. Don’t be so quick to dismiss advice that doesn’t make sense immediately. Remain open and wisdom will come to you.

**How can you help to facilitate the communication of wisdom from your surroundings?

I love this prompt, it feels as though it is very much inviting us to notice the wisdom of the season as it unfolds around us, particularly potent at this time of year whichever hemisphere you are in.

If you couldn’t make it to Gather & Tend. this time, you will find the recording above — I hope it could accompany you for some quite creative time.

A midsummer update from Story & Thread.

There has been a lot going on behind the scenes over recent weeks and months. As I have mentioned, I have been working on my website, a new online home to exist alongside this Substack. It is taking shape in it’s own time, requiring a lot of space to feel into how I want to express everything that weaves together to create Story & Thread.

Also, the first Your Story Starts Here introduction to storytelling and PR workshop took place last week, and left me with so much to think about and build on. I am in a chapter of laying foundations after a long chapter of dreaming and pondering. A lot of trust is required, in myself, in the process, and that the invisible work matters. Not everything is visible yet — but I can feel it starting to come together.

One thing I am especially excited about is Find Your Story — a gentle guide for makers, writers and creatives ready to find their story and shape their voice. I am creating it as a gift on the new website, and members of The Beauty Thread. will receive it alongside an invitation to the Your Story Starts Here workshop, when I introduce it to the membership in the autumn.

What’s coming this summer.

Before that, there is still plenty to come this summer…

If you are local to North London, A Softer Space is returning — in-person gatherings at my home, woven around the rhythm of the moon. The next one falls on the eve of the rose moon, Monday 29th June, with a relaxed outdoor edition planned for July. Details are always shared on Instagram if you would ever like to join us in person.

Something new — starting in July. Inspired by A Softer Space, I have been mapping a full year of moons — their folk names, their medicine, what each one invites us to experience through the turning seasons. I’ll be sharing the first of these moon letters very soon, with some deeper reflection and prompts for The Beauty Thread. members.

The Softening — late summer. The fifth and final edition of The Softening will take place in September around the autumn equinox — a closing of the five season arc, and as my birth season it is probably my favourite of them all (though I realise I say this every season!). It is a moment to come together collectively and collaboratively before something new begins in its place. More details about the late summer themes and a call for contributions will land with you soon.

A note about August.

August to me always feels like a natural time to down tools and restore — it is an opportunity to reflect and harvest the months of growth that have gone before. Over August, the gatherings will pause — an intentional seasonal ‘rest’ as I navigate seven weeks of summer holidays…! But I will still be here, writing in whatever shape that takes, just at a slower pace between the fullness of it all.

Some changes are afoot in autumn and I can’t wait to share more with you soon…

Thank you so much for reading, watching and/or listening. I hope you find some stillness around the solstice in the coming days, and weeks, and can carve out time to consider and celebrate everything you have created in these past months of growth, and also where you might be able to release pressure on yourself and linger longer.

With midsummer light and rose moon love,

P.S. Catch up with the new ATELIER interview if you missed it earlier this week… I sat down with writer, poet and essayist Annie Ridout to talk about her creative life — early mornings, her garden studio, the meadow she is tending outside her window.

I loved her description of the writer as a detective — observing, noticing, recording the world in all its intricacies, and then often retreating to put words on the page.

I hope you enjoy stepping into Annie’s world as much as I did…

Read more

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about mothering, creativity, home and garden through the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, home guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“I like to be surrounded by action — that can be people, but also nature — and then in total solitude.”

—.

Dearest reader

How are you doing as we land firmly in June? The summer solstice is almost here, but rather than feeling the pressure to match the light and be my brightest self, I find myself craving the quieter invitation it holds. From the Latin, ‘solstitium’ — the sun standing still, it is a pause at the height of things, before the slow return. I hope you can find a pocket of that stillness in the coming days and weeks too…

I haven’t written as much as I would like recently — though there has been a lot happening behind the scenes. Earlier this year I began The Hearth course with to design and build a new website for Story & Thread., and I have discovered that the process is about so much more than the practical side of things. It is an invitation into full expression — into sitting with everything you are, what you want to offer and how you want to be seen in the world. The process takes time, patience, and more than a few moments of feeling overwhelmed — but something has shifted recently and I feel as though the pieces are beginning to find their shape. More to come on this…

Alongside, I have been developing Find Your Story — a storytelling and PR workbook that began as a standalone introduction to finding and shaping your narrative, and which has since become the companion to a workshop I have just run for the first time. It was a really special morning as we found our way into our stories together. I will be offering it again, first to members of The Beauty Thread., (and beyond) very soon. If you would like to be among the first to hear when it returns, drop me a message and I will add you to the list…

Add me to the list

Also coming up tomorrow is Gather & Tend. in summer, a cosy online morning of seasonal grounding and gentle creative co-working together. There is still space if you would like to join us…

What: Gather & Tend. in summer.

When: Wednesday 17th June 2026, 11am – 12.30pm BST.

Where: From the comfort of your home (or anywhere), via Zoom.

Message me for details…

ATELIER with Annie Ridout.

I am delighted to share the latest ATELIER interview — with Annie Ridout — non-fiction author, journalist, poet, bestselling essayist on Substack.

I first found Annie in the earliest, hazy days of early motherhood — her book The Freelance Mum, arrived through my letterbox at the beginning of lockdown, with a six-week-old baby, in our north London flat. Not long after, I discovered Annie had written a brilliant children’s book with a lead character who shares my daughter’s name — we have read it more times than I can count.

Annie’s poetry is nothing short of magical — she has a way of articulating thoughts that are deeply familiar and seeing things I have seen, without always realising it. I am hugely inspired by everything she creates and the generous, thoughtful way she shares it.

I realised more recently that Annie and I were walking the same north London streets on parallel school runs each day, and after seeing snaps of her newly established garden studio, it felt like a chat about her creative space was a must. I hope you enjoy stepping inside her world. I hope you enjoy discovering more in the latest instalment of the ATELIER series…

Tell me about yourself and your creative life. 

I’m a writer. I started in journalism, writing for local and regional newspapers and then, for the nationals and magazines. I was also an early ‘blogger’ and have launched three digital magazines over the past 15 years. After my second baby was born, I got into non-fiction book-writing, and I’ve had three books published, on different subjects, as well as ghostwriting two for celebrities (one was a Sunday Times bestseller). Alongside books and articles, I write poetry that I have self-published in three collections and turned into prints, and I write essays on Substack about my work/life. In recent years, I’ve added drawing into the mix, to illustrate my poems and essays. And everything I know and learn, I teach through online courses, workshops and my writers’ membership: The Creative Way Collective.

Where do you write/create? 

I have a studio at the end of my garden, in north London. Our house is quite small but the garden is long (for London) so when I’m out in the studio, I feel properly tucked away. We live near ancient woodland and I can hear the birds singing while I work. My husband is a builder and he built the studio himself. He created two studios within the same structure - one for him, one for me - so that I wouldn’t complain about his mess. Ironically, my side appears to be much messier than his, when I peep through the window. The studio is where I go when I’m ready to get my head down. Before that, I will spend time walking, or zooming around on a Lime bike, which gets the ideas flowing.

How do you like to approach a creative workday? 

I wake up early, around 5.30am, and drink a lot of coffee. This kicks my brain into gear and often, I’ll have an idea for a poem or essay that I’ll note down to return to later or get started on straight away, if I have time. I go to my studio and light a candle, stretch, maybe do a really short meditation. After that, I’ll write, draw or just think. I go back into the house at 7am to make packed lunches and help get everyone breakfast, before starting the school drops at 8am. I have a window between 8.15 and 8.45 where I go for a coffee, alone, and write - usually into my phone; sometimes on paper. Two more school drop-offs and I walk home, it’s a decent 20-minute walk, and - depending on what building work is happening and where - I start ‘proper work’, in my studio. One of my children attends school part-time so I usually spend whatever time I have writing. Sometimes, I have a coaching client or I run a workshop. The working day might end at 1pm, 2pm or - at best - 3pm. Then, I’m ‘mum’. We make art together after school, bake. I make dinner, or my husband does, we clear up and I watch a drama on TV while my kids have some screen-time. I find TV dramas very inspiring. It’s early to bed so that I can rise early and start again the next day.

Are your surroundings important to you? 

I’m very inspired by people and places, that’s where I tend to gather ideas, but I do need total silence if I’m then going to turn those ideas into proper writing. Someone eating in the background, tapping on the table, watching TV, or having a good go on a hammer drill makes me rage. So, I like to be surrounded by action - that can be people, but also nature - and then in total solitude. I have often worked from the kitchen table, especially since having children, so I’m probably not that fussy about my workspace. But I love my studio and it feels like a haven. I love that no one can move my things, as I lock it when I’m not in there. Though, my children like to visit me in my studio and ask me to print things off for the games they play.

How do you like to feel whilst you are working? 

Alone.

How do you set the tone and energy of your environment? 

Smell is important. I always have scented candles (I love lavender) and even when they’re not lit, they make the studio smell lovely. Though, I will often light a candle before running a workshop or having an important phone call - with a publisher, for instance - as it helps me to shift into the right energy for that event. I’ll set an intention, while lighting the candle, about how I’d like the workshop or call to pan out. I like natural light, ideally, but if I’m up early and writing in the darker winter months, I’ll use a lamp. Light, white walls, lots of wood. I like natural tones, in terms of the clothes I wear and also my furniture and ornaments. Except my pink piano, that brings an unexpected burst of colour. And also: plants. I’m obsessed with my indoor plants. I tend to them, daily. Outside my studio, I’ve planted wildflower meadow seeds on a small patch of earth and there are tiny green sprouts shooting up. They need watering each day. I’m excited to see the flowers that will appear over the next few months.

Do you have one place dedicated to your work/creativity, or do you move around? 

I’ll do short bursts of writing in a cafe, on a park bench, while out running in the morning, or on the way to drop off or pick up my children from school. Often, I’ll dictate into my phone. My sister-in-law observed me doing this while we were away in Paris and said I looked like a detective, discreetly dictating into my phone. I quite liked this image. The writer is a detective, of sorts. Observing people, place, environments and turning those observations into poetry or prose. For longer writing sessions, I’ll go to my studio.

Where do you source creative inspiration? 

I find nature inspiring in one sense: it calms my nervous system which then triggers creativity. But I’m definitely most inspired by people and conversations, when it comes to the content of my work. I love chatting to female friends, the way our conversations are like a waterfall, flowing out, endlessly. And social media: I love reading people’s Substack essays, seeing art work and poetry on Instagram, looking at people’s homes on Pinterest. Lastly, books and TV. I watch a lot of dramas on telly, on the BBC, ITV or Netflix. And I read a novel before bed every night - sometimes just a few pages; sometimes more. Plus, I usually have a non-fiction book on the kitchen table that I’ll read when I come down in the morning for my first coffee.

Do you have any rituals around your work? 

I work around my energy. I can be quite manic, in terms of my writing, when my energy is high - I won’t let an idea slip away. I get into hyperfocus and I make it happen. This means that everyone around me feels ignored and I’m aware that it’s not very nice to be ignored so I do try to explain what I’m doing and escape until I’m finished. Then, I come back with a lightness and a sense of relief. For a while, I went for a sauna at the start of each work day. This felt ritualistic in terms of time away from my phone, with only my thoughts, to let ideas percolate. I loved it, but it was eating into my day a little too much so I’ve stopped for a while. I’m hoping that I can return to it when my working hours extend. Walking with women friends feels ritualistic. I did that today, before work, and when I got to my desk, I felt like I was buzzing.

What would your dream creative studio space look like? 

I’m lucky, I got my dream studio. White walls, big windows, lots of natural light. There’s space on the floor for a yoga mat so I can do my stretching in the morning. And then I have a big, custom-made plywood desk with space for my laptop, pens, notes and art materials. I have a drum and some Tibetan singing bowls. Also, a sewing machine, as I like the idea of making my own clothes, one day. Once the wild flowers are sprouting up out on my little patch, I’ll have the perfect view from my studio.

More about Annie:

Annie Ridout is a non-fiction author, journalist for nationals, viral poet, bestselling essayist on Substack and she runs a writers’ membership: The Creative Way Collective.

You can find Annie online below:

Annie Ridout | Instagram @annieridout | Substack Annie Ridout, The Creative Way Collective, We Hyperfocus

Annie Ridout

Essays on living and working creatively. By Annie Ridout (non-fiction author, journalist for nationals, viral poet, Sunday Times bestselling ghostwriter and creative entrepreneur).

I loved this conversation — from Annie's early morning ritual, her garden studio tucked away from the world, and the meadow she is tending outside her window. But most of all I loved her description of the writer as a detective — observing, noticing, recording the world in all its intricacies. And the way she moves between the two: gathering inspiration from people, places and conversations, and then retreating into total solitude to turn it into words on the page.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Annie’s creative world — as always, your thoughts and own experiences are so welcome in the comments.

Much midsummer love,

Leave a comment

P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread., the paid membership within Story & Thread. — you can read or listen to more by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I would love to support you in your own homecoming including seasonal creative gatherings, cosy co-working sessions, and resources to support you in crafting the stories of your creative business using meaningful PR.

It would be a pleasure to welcome you into the cosy, creative community at The Beauty Thread….you can find all of the details are in the page below…

Subscribe now

Our next creative gathering is Gather & Tend. in summer — our online seasonal creative co-working space will take place tomorrow at 11am-12.30pm BST on Wednesday 17th June 2026. Message me for more details…

Dearest reader…

How are you finding the shift between spring and summer? It has been pretty sudden here in London, with chilly squally rain and hail at the beginning of the week, followed by steamy sunshine as we reached the weekend…!

I am delighted to share the recording and guide to The Softening, our (online) gathering for spring/summer, where we spent time remembering to make space to ground ourselves, to quietly tend, and to blossom sustainably this summer, with embodied wisdom and knowledge from the community.

The gathering and guide has taken the shape of a collaborative handbook of nourishment, wisdom and inspiration… including a meditation practice for making space and taking a pause within our spring/summer days; notes on blooming sustainably; learnings from hawthorn and the medicinal potency of the peony; poetry that speaks to this time of year; insights from a nature walk in May; a creative practice to harness joy; reflections on quiet tending and nourishment during spring/summer.

Huge thanks to all of the generous contributors who allow The Softening to feel like a wonderfully supported community co-creation. I have loved our creative conversations in the lead up to, and during The Softening and am amazed at the alignment and synchronicity that has emerged between the individual pieces, which include…

• Breathing space, a grounding meditation practice giving us permission to take a pause as we move from spring to summer by .

• Blossoming sustainably, navigating the process of blossoming and visibility without burnout by .

• Lessons from the hawthorn tree, reflections on the wisdom of the hawthorn and home by .

• Medicine garden, a poem by .

• How to grow, heiter in bloom by . (More details here about supporting independent publishing and to help the Blooming issue of heiter come to life).

• A May Day walk, a spring nature walk with .

• What she wanted, a poem by

• Draw your fire: what lights you up? A creative journalling exercise for spring/summer with .

• Our quiet, invisible blooming, on tending by .

• Hold yourself with the magic & medicine of spring flowers, the peony,
  flower of healing, by me.

• The Butterfly, a poem by .

I have recorded a message below with more details about the content of the guide as we weren’t be able to cover it all within the gathering itself, there is enough for a whole weekend retreat… (anyone up for this?!) The sound quality isn’t perfect as I recorded directly into Substack but I am eschewing perfection in favour of having it done, and I hope it gives you a flavour of what is contained in the pages…

The Softening guidebook is included below as individual pages, and right at the bottom, as a PDF for you to save and hopefully return to over the summer months ahead.

Here is a closer look at the oracle card I pulled for us all…

I would love to hear your thoughts about what softness means to you in this season, and wanted to offer two contemplations…

• what is one thing you could remove from your to-do list this week?

• what one small nourishing thing could you add?

Much soft spring/summer love,

Read more

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, home guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“Within every woman, there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing.”

—Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estés.

Dearest reader…

How are you as we land in May, and move further into spring? We have had such warm and uplifting days here in London which has been very welcome — it is set to be cloudier this week, but there still remains a softer quality to the air in May.

I have been working on this post for a while, it is something that has been simmering under the surface for a while…weeks, months, possibly years… but it is only now that the light is lengthening, warmth is finding its way into our days, petals are opening and colour is returning that I have found the clarity for the intertwining thoughts to fall into place.

As with last spring, I feel on the verge of a new creative career chapter, with certain aspects of life shifting and changing and also melding and merging to combine and coexist. Spring’s rebirth within my 40th year feels like a good time to acknowledge and explore the interwoven threads that have led me here.

Looking back over the past three years of writing my publication Story & Thread., I can see that each post has been both a response and a stepping stone on the path of writing — allowing me to work out what matters and live most creatively. Each thread has shown up time and time again, making me feel something, and lighting me up. Each shapes the way I see the world and goes some way in explaining my reasons for writing and sharing my thoughts with you.

As I began this post (again and again), I came to realise that each thread is interwoven, it overlaps and intersects; with layers that both unravel and converge. I have split this post into two parts, the first being today’s letter that explores the threads of storytelling, beauty, homecoming and softening, with three more themes to come in part two.

My hope is that this post will act as an introduction, an invitation, a home and a signpost to all of the things that make up Story & Thread., and that you will explore them with me…

Weave the Story & Thread. tapestry with me…which thread will you follow?

STORYTELLING | we tell our stories.

Telling our stories leaves a trail — of our experiences, thoughts, dreams, wisdom, skills and gifts. When we share our stories, we are witnessed and written into a collective experience. Stories shape our reality, as well as what is remembered — by telling our stories we leave an indelible mark that says we have been here, a mirror fragment that may be found by someone else when they need it most.

Once upon a time, storytelling was a communal activity — evenings were spent gathered around the hearth, where stories were told by voice laced in firelight — customs, practices and rituals were handed down, and wisdom bestowed.

Although the ways and means of storytelling continue to evolve, almost beyond recognition, our innate longing for truth, resonance and authenticity remains the same (and perhaps becomes stronger in a changing world where it can be difficult to decipher what is real).

Women’s stories have been minimised, demeaned and silenced since the Early Modern period in our history, when the meanings of words were stealthily changed to degrade the way in which women talk, even laws were passed to forbid gatherings of women, which were seen as a threat to the establishment. Around the same time, the witch hunts turned women against each other, and the culture shifted from one of reciprocity and solidarity, to one of suspicion, competition and division.

Coming back together to share our stories as women is a special kind of alchemy — it is how we, rightfully, take up space, how we heal ourselves, each other, and the wounds of competition, scarcity and division³. Women talking together has the power to make seismic, lasting change, one word at a time.

How we tell our stories.

At Story & Thread. your voice, perspective, experience, wisdom, skills and gifts are welcomed to help to shape this space. Through our gatherings in The Beauty Thread. membership, we share the stories of our current chapter; we reflect, tend and create together. The upcoming introduction to storytelling with PR course will encourage you to find your voice, recognise your embodied wisdom and gifts to form an individual narrative and tell your stories to the world.

My intention is that this is a space where you are seen, supported and inspired. Story & Thread. is an invitation to write a new chapter together in women’s storytelling, where we encourage each other to take up space and be seen, knowing that we are already enough.

**What is your story to tell…?

You can read more about storytelling here…

Subscribe now

BEAUTY | we notice beauty.

Beauty is noticing, it is paying attention, it is taking care, it is a glimmer of recognition, a mirror within; it is hope.

Noticing beauty around us evokes a feeling of both being firmly in the world, whilst also transcending the everyday. When we open ourselves to beauty, we connect to our surroundings, to ourselves and to something intangible, but unmistakably there — an endless source of inspiration, wonder and awe.

Our immediate response to beauty comes before thought, it is pure intuition and so is a powerful guiding force. Noting what we find beautiful can guide us on a path of discovery about ourselves — beauty calls us, and we seek it out in our own ways — in art, books, music, movement, in our relationships, in our homes and gardens, and in the living world around us. It is both in the witnessing and in the doing — we commune with something that calls us.

The beauty we notice becomes a part of us too — it leaves a resonance, we are left subtly changed by it — it is both uplifting and grounding, inspiring and comforting. These are the pieces that make up our inner scenery and shape the way that we move through life. Beauty leads us to awaken and surrender in the same breath, we are both softened and most alive. Beauty nudges us along our path of discovery, and it bring us home.

Since becoming a mother, I find myself pointing out the beauty I see amongst the broken glass, discarded rubbish, and food waste strewn by foxes within the streets where we live in North London…

The fleeting blossom and the chirping of baby starlings in a nest above my children’s bedroom, the fresh green of the baby leaves in spring, the first glimpse of the sun rising over the neighbouring rooftops during summer days, the kaleidoscope of autumn leaves spilling over the fence, and the mystical mist-laden gloom of winter.

It always reminds me of Maggie Smith’s words in her poem, ‘Good Bones’…

“I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful’.

How we notice beauty.

Story & Thread. invites you to make the time and space to notice the world around you — to seek out the beauty, to note and record what you are drawn to, to follow the path to find more of it, and to nurture your own small corner of the earth.

Within our gatherings you will be offered prompts that remind you to pay attention to the little things that could be easily overlooked, or missed in the whirlwind of everyday life. Noticing takes remembering and nurturing, when there are so many demands on our attention, pulling us away from the micro-moments that make up our lives.

Here, beauty falls at the intersection of creativity, storytelling, homecoming, softening and seasonality. Your findings will lead you to where you feel most at home, and along a path of discovery, perhaps forging your next onward steps in the world…

**What calls you…?

You can read more about beauty here…

HOMECOMING | we turn inwards to find home.

We are pulled in many different directions from competing forces throughout the day, making it almost impossible to prioritise time to rest, or even to be still enough to hear our own thoughts and needs.

After experiencing layered symptoms of burnout in my early 30s after years of being always ‘on’ and giving a lot of myself to the world, I began a gradual quest to quieten the outer noise, to heal my body, and to slow down enough to hear my own inner whispers again.

My introduction to motherhood in 2020 thrust me into an even deeper homecoming, in the most essential way. In this chapter of remembering, caring and nurturing, my world became a lot smaller and yet my sense of ‘knowing’ became stronger than before.

Now six years in, I am aware that this all-encompassing caring role pulls me out of myself daily, as the needs of my children are often louder and more insistent than my own. I am peeling away another layer in the process of homecoming as I gather the pieces of me back together in the quieter moments, finding that most often clarity drops in when I make time to walk and think.

How we turn inwards to find home.

Story & Thread. is intended to be a place to land, to drop in, and return to, that provides you with uninterrupted time, space and quietude to come into relationship with yourself, and the world around you.

Both meeting together and gathering ourselves back inward is essential in reclaiming some of the time and space we crave and need within the blur of everyday life — to come home to ourselves, to find our inner rhythm, to receive our own unique medicine, and to tend to the things that require a deeper level of thought, that cannot be rushed or cut short.

You are invited to linger here, to remember what feels good, to put down roots, to cultivate your soil, to nurture your inner landscape — it is a place to grow from…

*When do you feel most ‘at home’…?

You can read more about homecoming here…

SOFTENING | we return to softness.

We all need more softness within our lives. Each of us begin cradled within the womb, hearing muffled sounds of the outside world, immersed in darkness, gently rocked by our mothers’ motion — touch, our earliest sense, becomes our first language.

Moving from burnout to homecoming was simultaneously a movement into softness. Physically, my body changed from being seemingly strong yet brittle, to softer and rounder (yet stronger in ways I could never have imagined), as I began to honour my energy and intuition, rather than an impossible schedule and expectation I had placed on myself.

Mothering continues to be a learning in how to soften — from the earliest weeks and months softening to an entirely new existence, where nothing was the same, and was led entirely by the many needs of a sensitive baby. The process also led me to become softer with myself and what was now possible — I learned how to choose the nap above attempts at productivity, to let go of the ‘shoulds’, to follow the most easeful path, and to adjust my expectations in just about every aspect of life.

And now, in a chapter of mothering young, spirited children where my own space is squeezed and I am a buffer between them and the world beyond, I am learning how to hold firm boundaries, whilst identifying where I can let go a bit more. In this phase of life too, stillness and order doesn’t feel possible, and I am coming to soften to the fact that a degree of chaos, and that the undone and unfinished are central to my existence in this chapter.

How we return to softness.

Story & Thread. is intended to be a soft place to land in a world that can feel hard, hostile and divided. Living softly is a movement — an embodied experience, a journey through the senses, a way of being, a remembering, a return, a rest and a retreat. Spending time here, you are encouraged to be, in the words of Irish mystic John O’Donohue, “excessively gentle with yourself”.

We meet through the seasons to explore the ways we can find more softness in our lives with ideas, practices and rituals from members of the community. The seasonal Softening gathering is a reminder to find ways to meld, merge, yield and breathe rather than to brace, tense, force and push – that there is power in allowing ourselves to bend rather than break — that rather than signalling weakness, there is unshakeable strength to be found in softness.

**Where can you soften…?

You can read more about softening here…

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading about the first four threads weaving the Story & Thread. tapestry — part two to follow soon. I would love to hear which thread resonates most with you…?

Sending much spring love,

Leave a comment

P.S. The Softening gathering in spring/summer will take place online from 11am - 12.30pm BST on Friday 22nd May 2026.

Everyone is invited to contribute something to The Softening — there is so much wisdom within our community and I would be honoured to share it. Below are the themes, but of course all are open to your interpretation of softness in spring/summer…

**vision, planning, growth, creativity, inspiration, expansion, blooming, expression, connection, joy, (re)birth, light, direction, heart, desire, fullness, deepening, abundance — all through a lens of softness**

More details about submission below…

P.P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread. by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“Spring will come

With its long light

And lessons

Of how we need some seasons

Of darkness

In order to bloom

It will arrive

One morning

And drench everything

Anew”

—Muddied by Emory Hall.

Dearest reader…

We met today for the Gather & Tend. co-working in spring — it was such a gorgeous way to spend the morning, sitting alongside other women writing, creating, tending, being and sharing.

It is also the three year anniversary of my publication Story & Thread., it felt apt to spend it in a collaborative, co-creative way, as I feel so grateful for the conversation and connection that has been woven into my time here so far. More thoughts on this to come!

I loved hearing about where everyone is at, and how the spring energies of renewal and growth seem to be reflected inwardly too — though with the reminder not to move forward too fast, there is no rush, we can take our time to unfold just as the spring flowers do.

I shared the poem above by Emory Hall which to me speaks so beautifully of this time (in the northern hemisphere) — of the vibrancy and refreshment that comes with spring. At the end of our creative time, we considered the prompts below…

**Winter is a time of receptivity and listening, rather than doing… what did you receive in winter?

**April comes from the Latin aperire, meaning ‘to open’… what are you opening to in spring?

A collective oracle card for winter.

I pulled an oracle card for everyone within the session, and a collective card for all of us from The Herbal Astrology Oracle by Adriana Ayales.

**Rosemary | Ancient Memory

Guidance: ruled by Mercury and the Sun, rosemary embodies the connection between mind and and the higher mind. This card signifies past feelings that are resurfacing and you may find yourself remembering ancestral memory that resides within your DNA. Rosemary heals us in healing through multdimensional sight, reminding us of the power of vision beyond the constructs of everyday life. Call upon Rosemary as a guiding light to see beyond the veil of confusion, and stay committed to the vision that drives you.

Having just planted rosemary in our garden, in the place of a shrub that had died, it feels potent to receive rosemary’s reminder here too.

Here is an upcoming date for your diary — The Softening gathering in late spring will take place at 11am - 12.30pm GMT on Friday 22nd May 2026.

I look forward to sharing more details soon, including themes and ideas for contributions to the retreat and guidebook for late spring — watch this space, I would be so delighted to include your wisdom within The Softening…

Thank you so much for reading, watching and/or listening. I hope you manage to find some time to consider what you received in winter, and what is opening for you in as spring unfolds.

Much spring love,

Leave a comment

Read more

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Hello lovely ones

I hope you are well and spring is making itself known in beautiful ways…

This morning I took the opportunity to go for a walk in my local woods whilst my children were with my in-laws. I was lured to the wildness of the woods, as I always am when I have some time alone, but even more so by the promise of bluebell season, and I wasn’t disappointed — it was a truly magical and enchanting experience.

As I walk in the woods, thoughts form, take shape, spiral and either become embedded or dissipate. I thought I would take you along with me this week…you can listen to my voicenote of musings about the bluebells, opening in spring and what is currently unfolding for me…

Here is the link to the post about the wisdom of the bluebell as a floral oracle for April…

The bluebell.

deep trust | unseen growth | enduring beauty.

Bluebells emerge where the earth has not been disturbed, they are a marker of ancient woodland. Whilst blue is often seen as sky or sea, it becomes the colour of the ground in bluebell season as the flowers provide a deep violet-blue carpet within the woods. It is the floral symbol of deep trust in the unseen and all that is unfolding beyond our own perception.

I would love to hear how you are and how spring is feeling for you so far…do you feel drawn to April’s ethos of opening?

Leave a comment

Our next gathering.

I can’t wait to see you and catch up at Gather & Tend. in spring — our online seasonal creative co-working space, which takes place next week at 11am-12.30pm BST on Wednesday 15th April 2026.

Gather & Tend. is our cosy co-working/co-tending space — a place to gather ourselves inwards, to check in with each other, to take creative cues from the season we are in, and to tend to our projects (whatever shape or form they may take) with care, individually but together.

Cosiness is encouraged, and there will be oracle cards of course!

Hope to see you there, the link to register your space is below…

Register your space.

Another spring date for your diary.

We will meet at 11am-12.30pm BST on Friday 22nd May for The Softening gathering in late spring, more details and a call for contributions to follow very soon.

Sending magic bluebell love,

P.S. A couple of recent posts below in case you missed them…

Read more

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about mothering, creativity, home and garden through the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, home guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“Interiors and surroundings are so much more than just how they look - it’s how they make you feel, and I put a lot of thought into that”.

—Huma Qureshi.

Dearest reader

How has April begun for you?

The word April is thought to be derived from the Latin verb aperire meaning ‘to open’, this month life begins to open up again — opening the curtains and windows reveals a new wash of colour from buds, leaves, petals opening in the warmth and light. And all of a sudden, I can feel myself opening up to all of the possibility in the world too.

We had a gorgeous start to the month in France visiting my parents with my sister and my nieces. After spending almost every school holiday here with my family growing up, it felt very special to be there together with the little ones in tow. It was a week filled with Provençal sunshine, café and market mooching, reading (a much-hoped for, yet very unexpected result of cousins playing happily together), a trip to the crystal waters of the River Gardon, Easter egg hunting, and an inevitable visit to the Haribo museum which is just down the road from where my parents live.

After a busy term and my son recovering from his ENT surgery, it was exactly what we needed (though don’t let me fool you, there was of course, plenty of meltdowns, moans and sibling disputes to navigate along the way!)

You are invited to Gather & Tend. in spring.

Gather & Tend. in spring — our online seasonal creative co-working space will take place next week at 11am-12.30pm BST on Wednesday 15th April 2026.

Gather & Tend. is our cosy co-working/co-tending space — a place to gather ourselves inwards, to check in with each other, to take creative cues from the season we are in, and to tend to our projects (whatever shape or form they may take) with care, individually but together.

Cosiness is encouraged, and there will be oracle cards of course!

As the session happens to fall on my three year anniversary here on Substack, I wanted to extend the invite to all. The link to register your space is below, I hope you can join us…

Register your space.

ATELIER with Huma Qureshi.

I am delighted to share the latest ATELIER interview — with Huma Qureshi — award-winning author, interior designer and mother.

I have long-admired Huma and her writing. I took Huma’s course The Quiet Words in 2019 — I recently found the writing manifesto I wrote at the time, and can see how the course led me on a quest to find my writing voice based on my own personal experiences and observations, rather than writing from what I thought I should know and say…

I found Huma’s words again in 2023 when I took her award-winning book of short stories Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love on holiday with me, when my daughter was two and son had just turned one. It was the first time I connected with reading again after finding myself struggling to find the headspace in my earliest months and years of motherhood — it was as though I had been on high alert and wasn’t able to lose myself in a story. The book allowed me to sink into the most beautiful words and moving stories without the worry of being interrupted, losing the thread, and needing to begin again. Finding this re-connection with a book was transporting, and also unlocked all the versions of me that have loved books through the decades — I will always be grateful to Huma for helping me to find those parts of me again.

More recently I came to realise that Huma and I share a favourite café on my local high street — it is the one she mentions as being part of her creative process in the interview, and I can see why, it is so joyful and filled with deliciousness!

I also fell in love with Huma’s writing room and let’s be honest, her entire home — it is one of the most uplifting and cheering places I have ever seen. I can only imagine the beautiful homes Huma will go on to create in her new creative chapter as co-founder of interior design studio, Bice & Birch.

All of these interwoven threads lead me to ask Huma if she would like to take part in an interview about her creative process, practices and rituals, I hope you enjoy discovering more in the latest instalment of the ATELIER series…

Tell me about yourself and your creative life.

I’m Huma, I’m the author of four books, including the novel Playing Games and the short story collection Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love, and I’m also an interior designer at a studio I’ve co-founded. My creative life is, well, just my life I guess!

Where do you write/create?

I go through phases depending on where I’m at with whatever I’m working on or, say, designing.

When I’m in the early stages of writing, then it’s important that I have time alone to figure it out and just start getting the words down. That’s done in my writing room at home. But then, when I’ve got a clearer idea of the story, and I’m more in the flow, and I’m loving it rather than dreading it (!) then I take myself to my favourite cafe in north London to work (La Dinette in Muswell Hill). The lovely team there is a permanent fixture in my creative process now. I sit in the window and do my edits, rewrites and read-throughs there.

My design process is quite different though - I work collaboratively with my design partner Sarah and it’s great to bounce ideas off each other very early on in the design process at each other’s houses or again in cafes. It’s quite different to my writing process, whereby not even my agent sees something until it’s nearly finished!

How do you like to approach a creative workday?

I guess I take a focused approach to being creative. I like lists and ticking things off gives me great satisfaction so I have lists for everything - writing, designing, life - and I’m very reliant on my diary and notebooks for this (shout out to Mark+Fold for my absolute favourite ones).

I don’t write with a detailed plan but I do like to set myself targets on what I hope to achieve at the end of a writing day whether that’s to rewrite such and such scenes or rethink the opening and so on. Although there’s something to be said for that sense of openness you get from being creative, in that you can create whatever you like, that can also get overwhelming, which is why I try to narrow my focus a little in terms of what actually needs to happen in order for a story to get started, for instance.

Are your surroundings important to you?

Oh, yes, incredibly! It’s the whole reason I designed to qualify in interior design to pursue alongside my writing; my surroundings feed me creatively but also emotionally, in terms of how I feel, and I think it’s the same for all of us.

Some writers like to keep their writing rooms really minimal so there’s no distraction, but I would find it incredibly hard not to be disheartened by the blankness; I am way more inspired by having inspiring things around me, paintings on the wall or objects on a shelf beyond books. Interiors and surroundings are so much more than just how they look - it’s how they make you feel, and I put a lot of thought into that.

How do you like to feel whilst you are working?

Calm, focused, in the zone. Content. It can be hard to ‘get’ to that place, when you have the challenge of day to day life and parenting to get through, but if I can concentrate on one thing at a time, it’s easier to tap into the headspace I need.

How do you set the tone and energy of your environment?

I genuinely feel less overwhelmed and calmer when I have structure to my day - hence the to-do lists in my diary that I depend on a lot. If I know what my plan is, I feel like I can set a really positive tone to the day. Also–and I’m aware this is at odds with the general impression we have of creativity–but I like things tidy, whether I’m working or not. Being tidy helps me focus and helps everything feel calm, which is what I need in order to do what I have to do.

Do you have one place dedicated to your work and creativity, or do you move around?

I’m lucky enough to have a dedicated writing room at home, but I do move around. Sometimes I get a little claustrophobic and I don’t like feeling cut off. I think it’s why I like to work in my favourite cafe, very specifically; there’s something about the aesthetics, the atmosphere, the gentle coming and going of others and the quiet goings-on in the background that just helps me get in the right state of mind. Plus, excellent coffee.

Where do you source creative inspiration?

For the past couple of years I’ve been really inspired creatively by films and reading screenplays and scripts. Whenever I’m stuck in a rut, and really struggling with what it is I’m trying to write, I try and get to the cinema, crucially alone. There’s something about being on my own in the dark with a story playing out in front of me on a huge screen that just unlocks a part of me, and more often than not, whatever it was I was struggling on works itself out. It’s not always a direct line, i.e. often the film has nothing to do with what I’m writing but I think maybe that’s why it works, it takes me out of whatever it was I was stuck with and in doing so, I’m able to think or see with a new perspective after.

With design work, so much inspiration is online, but I really try hard to look for it offline too; sometimes it can be anything, a book cover, a particular colour on a door as I walk past, or a lamp on in a window, or crockery in a restaurant - anything at all - I take photos and my camera roll becomes like a sort of scrapbook.

Do you have any rituals around your work?

I never used to drink coffee until last year and now I love the ritual of a morning coffee! I try and take a 3.5 mile walk every morning whilst listening to an audiobook, although this does slip when I’m really in the flow with a work in progress, because then that’s all I want to do and time is limited!

What would your dream creative studio space look like?

I’m really lucky with the creative space I have now: a light-filled room at the back of our house with wildflower wallpaper by Honor Addington and a vaulted ceiling for my bookcases, overlooking the garden, and favourite art on the walls, but that said, I’m always looking for excuses to change things around and always dreaming about what my next creative space might look like...

More about Huma:

Huma Qureshi is an award-winning writer and author of four books. Her novel, Playing Games, a poignant story of art and sisterhood, family, marriage and betrayal was published in 2023 (Sceptre). Her short story collection, Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love, was longlisted for both The Jhalak Prize Book Of The Year and The Edge Hill Prize for excellence. Her memoir How We Met (Elliott & Thompson) was shortlisted for the Indie Book Awards. Huma writes a popular newsletter and teaches a variety of creative writing courses via her website. She shares her love of interiors on her Instagram as well as via her interior design firm, Bice & Birch.

You can find Huma online below:

Huma Qureshi | Instagram @humaqureshi | Bice & Birch

I loved hearing the story of Huma’s creative practice — how important a sense of structure and joyful surroundings are to her creativity and flow. I also loved hearing about all of Huma’s different sources of inspiration, it reminded me of the importance of stepping away from my desk, and I am certainly inspired to go on a solo cinema date asap!

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Huma’s joyful creative world — as always, your thoughts and own experiences are so welcome in the comments.

Much spring love,

Leave a comment

P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread., the paid membership within Story & Thread. — you can read or listen to more by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I would love to support you in your own homecoming including seasonal creative gatherings, cosy co-working sessions, and resources to support you in crafting the stories of your creative business using meaningful PR.

It would be an honour to welcome you into the cosy, creative community at The Beauty Thread….you can find all of the details are in the page below…

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Our next creative gathering is Gather & Tend. in spring — our online seasonal creative co-working space will take place next week at 11am-12.30pm BST on Wednesday 15th April 2026. More details above and link to register is below…

Register your space.

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

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“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
—Charles Dickens.

Dearest reader…

How are you settling into March? Have you seen the shimmery signs of spring? We are edging ever-closer to the spring equinox at the weekend, the moment when we tip into more light than dark. A time that in many ways feels like a more natural opportunity for renewal and reemergence than on the first January when it is often expected…

However, in true ‘winterspring’ fashion, I have had to put the brakes on, in a week that has seen my daughter unwell and off school, followed by planned ENT surgery for my son and two weeks off nursery… Needless to say I am having to soften to a slower pace for the weeks ahead — something that feels like a winter-style retreat whilst the living world begins to brighten and blossom. Another learning in the ongoing wisdom of softening to the ebb and flow / emergence and retreat of mothering and creative business, never more apt than in winterspring.

We gathered for The Softening in late winter at the end of February, a collaborative project to bring together ideas, thoughts and practices of softness for this time of the year. As we begin to thaw in the gradual move towards spring, I thought I would share some extracts of the beauty and wisdom enclosed in gathering and guidebook with you all…

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Extracts from The Softening: a guide to sinking into the softness of the season.

Finding my way in ‘winterspring’, my words on the transitional season we find ourselves in.

In March, we reach a melding of the seasons, a container of change. It is not one or the other, or perhaps it is both, with spring keen to move forwards but winter still holding on tight — it is ‘winterspring’.

Naming this time in an unpredictable shape-shifting corner of the calendar soothes me somewhat, embracing the push/pull and knowing that we are not supposed to be in spring yet, but it is coming.

For us too, the shift from an inward state of rest, reflection and dreaming into nurturing growth and finding pockets of expansiveness can feel unwieldy and uncomfortable. I am finding myself being drawn to planning a moveable framework whilst still incubating ideas and feeling my way, rather than rushing to make any sweeping changes.

Perhaps there will be a measure of back and forth for us too, an ebb before the flow. Just like the world around us, we can take our time and wait for the perfect conditions to unfold. We can continue to cut back old growth, to shift stagnancy and sow new seeds but it is all an act of preparation, nourishing, and waiting.

We are not ready to bloom, yet.

*How do you navigate the inner and outer season of ‘winterspring’?

You can read more on ‘winterspring’ here…

Embodying thresholds: In the belly of creation, an embodiment practice for the threshold of late winter to early spring with .

Thresholds are fascinating. We have our feet in two worlds, the old and the new, balancing on moving pieces. The delight of sensing change can rejuvenate our whole being, yet, anticipation can also feel discombobulating.

Ask yourself…

How am I carrying myself into this year?

Thresholds don’t need us to adjust life grandly, often we simply need to hold ourselves more lovingly. Rest, expand capacity and awareness. Long enough for trust, vision, and timing to align.

Carmen’s full embodiment practice is featured within The Softening guide.

**How does it feel to be led through transitions by your inner wisdom?

is an experience designer, women’s coach, and writer, exploring the intersection of wellbeing, creativity, ritual, and (self-) leadership through the seasons and life transitions. She’s also an award-winning change consultant, supporting global teams in adapting to the future of work.

You can read Carmen’s words about seasonal self-leadership and her modern village stories in her Substack publication Rooted & Rested., and her winter companion guide to finding your inner light.

Rooted & Rested

Seasonal stories & rituals from the German countryside for rest, self-leadership, and nurturing rhythms.

By Carmen Luisa

An extract from Winter and the water element, the elemental wisdom of Traditional Chinese Medicine with .

“Winter is associated with the element of water in Traditional Chinese Medicine. All life begins with water — there’s both great power and great stillness in water.

Winter can often be a time of much rain, a cleansing, a clearing away of things, saturating the land ahead of the warmer months ahead, refilling the rivers and reservoirs and ponds.

Whilst the land is dormant, it is receiving an enormous amount. The land needs to absorb water now so that it can support the energy of spring.

This relates to us too, and despite all the talk of resolutions and plans for the year ahead, we’re still in the water energy, in the receiving, in the internal, inward time. It’s not a time for too much action, instead it’s a time of very deep listening.”

**What wisdom did you receive during this past winter?

is an Irish writer and tender to many things, fuelled by mucky walks, good coffee & early mornings to herself. Layla writes the beauty & bone newsletter on Substack, where she explores how it feels to live, create and hold on this beautiful, tattered planet right now. She is also a practicing Five Element Acupuncturist and works from her treatment space at the foot of the Wicklow mountains in Co. Wicklow, Ireland.

beauty & bone

Exploring, from a real, raw, lived place, how it feels to live on this beautiful, tattered planet right now.

By Layla O'Mara

An extract from Sowing seeds for spring, a garden ritual for spring seed sowing with

Now is a great time to get started on sowing seeds indoors. Whether you are growing nourishing vegetables to fill your belly or brightly coloured flowers to bring you joy, this activity will restore your nervous system and encourage you to set an intention for the growing season ahead.

The first thing I’d like you to do is to ask yourself ‘What do I want for my garden this year?’

You may want to journal on it, take it on a walk, or into the garden with you or perhaps the answer has popped into your head as soon as you’ve read the question. Either way, set your intention…

**What is your intention for your garden or outdoor space this year?

Kendall’s sensory seed sowing ritual is featured in full in The Softening guide.

is a horticultural therapist and the founder of Adventures with Flowers. She brings together horticultural therapy and sensory-led garden design to create spaces that don’t just look beautiful, they restore you daily so peace, joy and presence become the norm, not the exception. Find out more via Kendall’s horticultural therapy community, the Seed on Substack, book on to a Garden Along Session, or come and join the Seed for the year to attend twice monthly sessions in community all year round.

The Seed

The Seed: Gardening for busy women- because your garden should be a source of strength, not stress. Take small meaningful actions to grow your garden sanctuary, quiet your mind and reduce overwhelm- one plant at a time.

By Kendall Marie Platt 🌱

Tending our seeds in the dark, a reflection and a blessing by .

As I was planting seeds for my herb garden today, it felt so good to turn the loamy black soil over in my hands, to think in earth-time, seed-time… encoded in the seeds’ own intrinsic knowing, their cycles marked by the day of last frost at my exact latitude and guided by the arc of southern sun.

The process of planting them [seeds] became a sort of ceremony. Nothing extravagant. As I coaxed their tiny bodies into thumbprint holes, I lit a few tea lights, gathered some stones from a drawer, and said a blessing over the seeds.

May we each receive the blessing of this new threshold

Tucked into fertile soil by winter’s peaceful hands

Watered by beauty

Warmed by each other’s care.

is a yoga teacher and writer based in Tucson, Arizona whose work focuses on the intersection of breath-based meditation, movement, and storytelling. As a practicing engineer, Lydia is interested in what lies beyond the boundaries of rational inquiry. Her writing, classes, and workshops draw inspiration from animism, ecofeminism, herbalism, and mythology, and are informed by years of travel repairing airplanes around the world. Find Lydia at Life & Breath on Substack.

life & breath

Love letters for the big feelers, squiggly brains, and anyone who had an imaginary friend as a kid

By Lydia McDowell

Seed & bud, a creative journalling exercise for late winter and early spring with calligraphy artist .

A creative journalling exercise inspired by seeing buds starting to appear on my dog walks - snowdrops, crocus and daffodils - reminding us of what can emerge after a period of deep rest.

See the full exercise within The Softening guide, and led by Sophie in-person at our gathering by accessing the recording.

**What is emerging for you at this point in the year?

is a calligraphy artist and is passionate about art journalling as a way to express and document experiences and transitions. She hosts seasonal creative workshops inspired by nature, cycles and motherhood. Find Sophie on Instagram.

The sensory experience of water, an extract from Breaking Waves by .

When I’m in the water, I don’t feel like a ‘swimmer’, it’s more that I inhabit the space, experiencing its environment and submerging in its sensory nature. I am drawn to the presence of the moment as I watch bubble trails fill my vision and weave through my fingers.

I feel connected with the surroundings and those that share the space, but also with myself and my womanhood, the water a wall of protection surrounding the nakedness of my skin.

See the full passage within The Softening guide. Listen to Emma give us a special reading of her words, and prompt inspired by the sensory experience of water by accessing the recording.

**Where do you visualise when you imagine a body of water, how does this place make you feel?

is an award-winning narrative non-fiction author and wild swimmer. Having spent a couple of decades being distracted by a career in air traffic control, and experiencing two life-wrenching events, Emma rediscovered her pen and her passion for storytelling at the same time as discovering how transformational cold-water swimming was for her health, wellbeing and sense of connection with the world.

Her 2025 debut, Breaking Waves: Discovery, Healing and Inspiration in the Open Water, received 5-star acclaim, and she is currently working on her second book. Find Emma at Lemon Soul by Emma Simpson on Substack.

Lemon Soul by Emma Simpson

Refreshing Perspectives & Slices of Life. "Highly Relatable", "Profoundly Human" 🍋

Taken from The Twelfth House and the realm of dreams, the astrology of the liminal and the in-between with Jema Killala-Barnard.

As we move through the mist of the 12th house the sky begins to lighten.

Late winter light.

Winterspring.

Nothing has emerged yet, but everything is quietly preparing.

The 12th house does not offer us souvenirs.

It does not offer tidy explanation,

but stories that you feel in your bones,

symbols that your conscious mind only half understands.

In the space between sleep and wake.

It has already been received.

The light is returning,

but nothing has visibly grown.

All that is felt is potential.

**What do you sense holds potential in the season ahead?

Jema Killala-Barnard is a astrologer, mother and myth weaver who works with cycles of descent, rebirth and embodied purpose. She specialises in helping women, especially mothers in transition, understand their lives through the lens of astrology, ritual and seasonal awareness. Find Jema via her website, on Instagram and on youtube.

Tending the marks, a mark-making practice for tending with .

This practice uses simple mark-making as a way to nurture what’s already there, without trying to shape it, fix it, or turn it into something finished. Let’s stay curious and pay attention…

**What can you nurture without trying to change or improve it?

Océane, is a writer, illustrator, and pattern designer. Alongside a full-time job and raising two children, Océane is building a life around everyday creativity and helping others do the same. Through writing, drawing prompts, and community moments, she helps people rediscover the creative spark that’s already inside them.

You can find Océane on Instagram and at her creativity publication The Studio in the Margins on Substack.

The Studio in the Margins

A quiet creative community for people making art and writing alongside ordinary life — through shared studio hours, drawing practice, and seasonal reading.

By Océane Meftah

Extracts from Words to live by, intentions for the chapter ahead by .

I will not make do – with cold tea, stale toast, lukewarm grey ‘recycled’ bathwater... I will give myself the same loving consideration I give my children and loved ones. Because if I do not, I am accepting that I am less deserving of care (and that is not true)

I will not disparage my body or appearance in any way... I will ‘see’ myself as the soul I am within and love myself for my best qualities: kindness, compassion, creativity; and stop trying to make myself ‘small’ by being less loud, bright, honest

I will not save beautiful things for special occasions. Every day is a beautiful thing and every breath a special occasion. If not now, when?

**What are the words you intend to live by in the season ahead?

Read on in the guide to discover Eminé’s wisdom, and a link to an Ayurveda-inspired energetic spring cleansing ritual.

is the CEO + creator of MOTHER NOURISH, which this year is growing from a popular Substack letter into a 360 health platform, community + resource. She has worked in health & wellness for 20+ years, as a wellness author, former Health Director of Psychologies magazine, editor of oh magazine, and a trained women's yoga therapist, holistic therapist, and Ayurvedic lifestyle consultant.

She is a mum of daughters, a constantly inconstant, cycling being... and believes that health can NEVER be perfect or static. In fact, she believes that perfectionism is damaging... and the softer, kinder + more accepting we are of our selves + our bodies, the healthier we tend to feel. Sign up to her Substack to be one of the first to hear about the next chapter of MOTHER NOURISH and how Eminé is on a mission to better support those who spend their lives supporting others.

MOTHER NOURISH

Wholistic + realistic nourishment for mums in their middle years, who want more than the crumbs.

By Emine Rushton

Rewriting the cultural myths that silence us, writing new creative narratives, taken from Divergent Creatives by .

Ironically, stories are one of the most powerful weapons that the dominant culture uses to silence us. Does it seem counterintuitive that a system that tries to suppress creativity would actively use creative techniques to do so? It makes sense when you consider that both the suppression and the utilisation show that they recognise just how much power lies in a story.

Our society uses a number of myths to keep us under control. And maybe we’ve forgotten how to push back with stories of our own.

Listen to Allegra talk about the most common creative myths and why we must re-write them in the recording. ‘Rewriting the cultural myths that silence us’ is taken from her new book Divergent Creatives, an alternative take on The Artist’s Way which is available for pre-order here.

**What is your creative myth? How can you re-write it?

is an author, columnist, coach, entrepreneur and creative wellbeing practitioner. She is also an AuDHD mum of two with a passion for helping those who feel marginalised and held back by society to find their joy, express their truth and challenge the system. Find Allegra via her website, Instagram or her publication Creative Fix on Substack.

Creative Fix

A creative sanctuary designed for people who are neurodivergent or have unpredictable mental health. Here we use writing, art and crafting for healing, expression and connection, and we build creative practices on our own terms.

By Allegra Chapman (she/her)

An extract from It’s in the wait, a poem about unseen growth by .

It’s under the surface

And in the gaps

The unseen growth

Is in the cracks

Slowly shifting

And ever changing

Perfect timing

Our soul rearranging.

A tapestry

Magic being woven

In time sweet one

These seeds will grow again

**How can you soften to the unseen growth that has been taking place beneath the surface?

You can read Lauren’s beautiful and timely poem in full within The Softening guide.

is the Mother of two daughters, a Writer, Soulful Business Mentor, Branding & Website Artist, Circle Facilitator, Human Design Guide, Yoga & Meditation teacher, Sacred Space Holder and multi dimensional human being. Lauren describes herself as ‘earth meets sky’ - weaving together a grounded and human approach with a lot of heart and soul... Lauren writes held. by lauren barber on Substack and you can find the many threads of her heart and soul work, on her website.

Held. By Lauren Barber

A digital sanctuary for your heart & soul ✦ Read my words on motherhood, creativity, sacred business & being human ✦ Listen to the podcast ✦ Sink into restorative practices ✦ Understand your true nature through Human Design ✦ Let yourself be held. ✦

I hope you have enjoyed this meander through The Softening — if you would like to delve deeper you can access the full magazine-style guidebook and gathering in full by becoming a member of The Beauty Thread. where you will gain full access to online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business — you would be so welcome to join us…

I would love to hear your thoughts about what you feel drawn to in this potent portal of winterspring, and where you are able to take ideas held within the guidebook to bring more softness into your life…

And a couple of spring dates for your diary —

*Gather & Tend. creative co-working in spring will take place on Wednesday 15th April 2026.

*The Softening in late spring gathering will take place on Wednesday 20th May 2026.

More details to follow shortly…

In softness,

P.S. Last week I wrote a post called We are all storytellers… about the enduring power of telling our stories for International Women’s Day 2026. The post explores some fragments of the history of weaving and storytelling, and reveals a few details about my upcoming PR offering that will provide guidance in telling out stories in a meaningful and sustainable way… you can read it below…

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, home guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“what will become of this story
inside my chest?”

—Emory Hall.

Dearest reader…

How are you finding your way in March? We are edging closer towards spring and I have felt the most welcome shimmers this week, but it has certainly felt very winterspring-like in these parts!

I hope you have managed to find some time to sit with The Softening (gathering and guide). I promise an edit for all subscribers is coming soon that you can dip into as we move through this seasonal shift.

I am delighted to drop in today with words woven for International Women’s Day 2026, a post that nearly didn’t materialise as my daughter has been off sick and I haven’t had the time and space I envisaged. It has been very much written in the edges, on my phone as she slept on me during the day, and in the margins of everything else. It has felt poignant in many ways to realise that throughout history women’s stories have not told for many different reasons and circumstances, and it made me more determined to finish this post with her by my side.

It is time to eschew perfection in order to find our voices, shape the narrative and tell our stories…

Women Weaving for International Women’s Day 2026

This year’s IWD theme conjured with , Women Weaving, was originally inspired by an oracle card I pulled from the Folklore Oracle by Giada Rose and Hadas Knox — the waulking card takes us back centuries to the Scottish Highlands where groups of women worked the community’s woollen cloth to make it softer and thicker. The process, dating back to medieval times that continued until the mid-twentieth century, is called ‘waulking’, rhythmically beating tweed against a hard surface whilst singing (it sounds very therapeutic to me!).

The women sing of love and loss, the raw beauty of home, and the hardships and humours of their days, often in call-and-response style.

Through the melody and the lyrics, women weaved their personal stories with the collective — to process their emotional lives, at the same time alchemising it into meaningful work for their community, and ultimately revealing the power of communal storytelling…

Telling stories and weaving threads.

The ‘waulking’ card and its description immediately resonated when I pulled it from the deck. Its message about stories woven in the process of softening and singing, and the power of our voices in tune with the collective, allowed much to fall into place, possibly ushering me towards a new creative chapter…

The name Story & Thread. is an expression of my long-held fascination with interiors and storytelling that infuses my everyday life, writing, and work.

Storytelling and weaving are deeply entwined, both in physical form (as per the waulking process and many other weaving traditions), and metaphorically too. Weaving is one of the oldest and most important crafts in human history, and in itself a form of storytelling, each thread woven with intention, like a word in a sentence, expressing a narrative. Words hold an essential place in cultural consciousness, and the language of weaving and storytelling is inextricably linked — from threads of thought and conversation, to weaving a plot, and spinning a yarn.

Over the millennia and across just about every culture, woven cloth has been a tactile and tangible form of voice that is passed down through generations. Even more than their beauty, softness and warmth, textiles tell of belonging, identity, safety and a sense of place. Over the years, material has conveyed stories, from ancient myths, and major historical events, to the minutiae of everyday life, one thread at a time.

A textile, especially in the form of a blanket, signifies security, comfort and protection — it is a piece of home we can wrap around us, it accompanies us through life. A habitual gift for newborn babies, woven fabric in blanket form provides cushioning and cradling, it softens our transition from womb to world — touch, our earliest sense, becomes our first language.

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Why should we tell our stories?

Long before the written word or indeed the woven one, we communicated through oral storytelling. Stories were told by voice, laced in firelight — the hearth was where much of life was passed on and handed down, in the form of story, rituals and rites. Imagination and memory were awakened through the timelessness of collective storytelling, a deeply communal activity, there was an intimacy in shared knowing — “the hearth was the theatre of word”.1

Storytelling has always been how we express ourselves; how we communicate with others; make sense of the world and the human condition; shape identities and communities; how we record, preserve and pass on knowledge, culture, values, beliefs and societal norms. From myths and legends, to epic poetry, folklore and fables, novels and plays — to tell our story is to play a part in the vibrant and many-layered tapestry of life.

Advancements through the ages have changed the nature of storytelling —from the formation and development of early writing systems, all the way to communication via the social media that lies in the palm of our hand in today’s digital age — the way we tell and consume narratives has transformed beyond recognition.

Although ways of telling stories continues to evolve, our innate longing for them, and their purpose remains the same. Stories continue to shape our understanding of the world and ourselves, making it imperative that we take the time, care and attention to uncover our voices and share our precious words.

The words of women.

Throughout history, women’s experiences and stories have been lost, minimised and diminished. Take the phrase ‘mother’s meeting’, a term used to describe according to the Urban Dictionary, “pointless natter about nothing in particular” or another definition referred to “a noisy, gossipy gathering of women”, which brings me to the word ‘gossip’ itself…

The word’s origins hail from the birthing room, arguably the most powerful place on earth. Originally from Old English godsibb meaning ‘sponsor, godparent’, the meaning was later extended in Middle English to ‘a familiar acquaintance, a friend, neighbour’, especially used to describe an intimate group of trusted female friends invited to support a woman through birth. These women were known as the ‘gossips’, providing much-needed encouragement, comfort and strength.

Yet from around the 1500s, there was a shift when the strength and solidarity of female friendship became seen as a threat to the establishment2. It was at this point that ‘gossip’ began to mean “a woman engaging in idle talk”, an interpretation that serves to silence women, as well as deem their speech meaningless.

Although I can’t say I invited any of my good friends to either of my births (!), female support and stories in the weeks, months and years since becoming a mother have been vital to my day-to-day experience of mothering, my innermost thoughts, my outlook and wellbeing. This communication has taken on many forms — from verbal reflections on two challenging births, daily online women’s meditation circles during lockdowns, beautiful courses in mothering and creativity that have both reassured and inspired me, poetry and podcasts, online and in-person mothers’ circles, to countless voicenotes, phone calls and chats, not to mention the many posts and conversations I have engaged in within the Substack community.

Far from meaningless, listening to the stories of others has been a lifeline, constant source of comfort and reassurance, whilst voicing my own has allowed me to be seen, held and validated as I process my unfolding experience.

Coming together to share our stories as women is a special kind of alchemy —it is how we, rightfully, take up space, how we heal ourselves, each other, and the wounds of competition, scarcity and division3. Women talking together has the power to make seismic, lasting change, one word at a time.

In the business of storytelling.

Working in PR (Public Relations4) for nearly two decades means that communication and storytelling is at the heart of the work I do each day.

Essentially a process of finding your voice, shaping the narrative and telling a story; PR is a culmination of defining your utmost values, expressing what you do and why you do it, in order to foster connection and trust.

Ironically the PR industry seems to retain a certain mystique, as well as often being misunderstood, and sometimes maligned. In my experience, PR is very rarely ‘spin’ or a one-off attention-grabbing ‘splash’, but instead a very gradual, long-term commitment — a consistent drip-feed of intentional information, ideas and thoughts that build awareness, trust and connection, shaping the story of ourselves, and our work in the world.

PR should not be an expensive, mysterious tool reserved for large corporate organisations, but instead within the reach of individuals, creatives, writers and makers. PR is woven into every interaction we make, how we tell our story, and how others feel when they hear it.

PR is not a direct sales tool but an integral, essential part of building an enduring, meaningful brand with integrity. It is a way to evoke a feeling, an experience, a memory, a certain tone and quality, and eventually a sense of familiarity that can’t be replicated by anyone else in quite the same way.

My interest lies in discovering those who exist under-the-radar, quietly doing something remarkable, making something beautiful in the edges of life from a small corner at home or an unexpected place, people that bring positivity and meaning to the world through their creativity, individuality and expertise.

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The craft of considered storytelling in community.

*Considered | strategic and planned | thoughtful and conscious | crafted with care | closely aligned | tailored and targeted | mindful, meaningful and intentional | creative and imaginative | visionary and values-led | purposeful | fostering connection, collaboration and relationships

*Sustainable | cohesive and consistent | a long-term commitment | integrated into everyday life | gradual and layered | slow and sustained effort | evolving and enduring | a gentle drip-feed | a quiet buzz | trust in the process | soft and strong

*Storytelling | soulful and authentic | conversational | evocative | an experience | memory | expertise and wisdom | heart-led | inspired and empowering | vulnerable and visible | rhythmic and resonant | personal and collective | change-making | influential | healing and hopeful

Raising our voices together in story.

I am working on an offering that aims to raise the voices of others, as we craft considered, sustainable storytelling strategy together. It is for all creatives, including creators, mother-makers, earth-keepers, wordsmiths, magic weavers, thought-leaders, dreamers and seekers. Together, we will find our voices, shape our narratives, and spill the stories of ourselves and our work that are longing to be told. Please do like or drop a comment if you want to find out more…

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed my exploration of storytelling and feel encouraged to share your voice — I would love to hear the words you are going to weave.

Sending much love,

Leave a comment

P.S. you can read my previous IWD contributions below…

P.P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread., my membership space filled with creative seasonal gatherings and co-working sessions, seasonal home guides and considered storytelling and PR, within Story & Thread. — you can read or listen to more by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

I hope you will join us, you would be so welcome…

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

Dearest reader…

Earlier this week we met at The Softening in late winter, an online gathering filled with gentle reflections and guidance to help us soak in the learnings of winter and begin to think about reemergence in spring.

I loved learning more about winter as a time of dormancy and receiving — that just as the land absorbs water (and it really has this year!) in order to support the energy of spring, we too are in a time of inwardness and receptivity, that it is not a time for big actions but of deep listening.

Now at the end of February, we reach the threshold of winterspring, a time that I can find quite unsettling. On Wednesday, we basked in glorious spring sunshine here in London making everything feel possible again, but we have since returned to grey skies and a very chilly breeze. The path to spring is like a gradual spiral-like unfurling, with a number of hasty retreats along the way — we move back and forth with our feet between two worlds, but it helps me to remember that we are only heading in one direction…

The Softening in late winter.

Above is the recording of the gathering, and below is a link to the magazine guide to accompany you along the way, a collaborative cauldron of cocooning nourishment and inspiration, featuring…

a practice for embodying the winterspring threshold; an exploration of the water element in winter and sound practice; a meaningful seed sowing rituals and reflections, creative journalling and mark-making exercises; an extract and reading from Breaking Waves about our experience of being held by water; an exploration of the astrology of the 12th house; wise intentions for the chapter ahead; writing new narratives and a practice to help us re-write our creative myths; poetry about trust in the in-between.

I do hope you are able to carve out some time to dive in to all of the magic in the coming days and weeks as we move deeper into winterspring…

Before sinking into the softness, I would recommend creating a cosy set up with comfy clothes, cushions, a blanket, a notebook and pen, some colouring pencils and old magazines/paper (for the creative journalling exercises), a warm drink, perhaps a snack, and a candle if you have one to hand.

Thank you so much for being here at The Softening in late winter — I would love to hear any of your reflections on the prompts, or anything that came up for you during the retreat, or in this season itself — I hope we can chat more in the comments.

I will soon be thinking about plans for spring at Story & Thread. and The Beauty Thread. — I would, of course, welcome your thoughts on what you would like to see, read and listen to in the season ahead.

*Dates for your diary*

We will meet for our spring Gather & Tend. co-working session on Wednesday 15th April, and for The Softening in late spring on Friday 22nd May – I hope you will be able to join me…

In softness,

P.S. If you fancy reading more on the subject of winterspring, a time that is more than a season and perhaps a whole life chapter and personality…!

Read more

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.”

—Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

Dearest reader…

Today I am delighted to share The Softening magazine guide for late winter that accompanied us within the online gathering this morning, full recording of the gathering is here…

The magazine guidebook has taken the shape of a collaborative cauldron of meaningful nourishment and inspiration, filled with so much goodness from generous contributors… including a practice for embodying thresholds; seed sowing rituals and reflections; creative journalling practices; poetry and writing; astrology for exploring the dream realms, and a practice for re-writing myths about our creativity. It has been such a pleasure to collect, curate and create!

Huge thanks and so much gratitude to those who have contributed and allowed this to feel like a wonderfully supported co-creation, including,

• Embodying thresholds: In the belly of creation, including a late winter embodiment practice by

• Winter and the water element, an exploration into the seasonal element according to Traditional Chinese Medicine by , who has kindly gifted us a somatic sound practice to support depletion which is out from behind the paywall for one week that you can access via her publication beauty & bone

• Sowing seeds for spring, a meaningful gardening ritual for all the senses by

• Tending our seeds in the dark, a reflection and seed sowing blessing by

• Seed & bud, a creative journalling exercise for late winter by

• The sensory experience of water, an extract from Breaking Waves by

• The Twelfth House and the realm of dreams, the astrology of the liminal and the in-between dreamscape of the 12th house by Jema Killala-Barnard

• Tending the marks, a mark-marking practice for tending by

• Words to live by, intentions for the chapter ahead by , who has also gifted us two ‘spring cleaning’ self-care practices drawing on Ayurveda, to aid in the transition out of winter, here

• Rewriting the cultural myths that silence us, writing new narratives and a practice to help us re-write our creative myths by , taken from her new book Divergent Creatives, an alternative take on The Artist’s Way which is available for pre-order here

• It’s in the wait, a poem about trust in the in-between by

The Softening magazine guidebook is included below as individual pages, and right at the bottom, as a PDF for you to save on file, and hopefully cherish as we enter winterspring. I will also send out extracts from within the guide in the coming days for all subscribers…

I would love to hear your thoughts about what you feel drawn to, what resonates with where you find yourself right now, and which ideas you can use to help you to bring more softness into your life…

Much late winter love,

Leave a comment

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Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about mothering, creativity, home and garden through the seasons. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, home guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“I find the most interesting things to do in this world are to watch and listen, very carefully”.

—.

Dearest reader

How are you getting on this week?

It’s been a full week or two here… when I think about it, it’s been a very busy start to the year… January was filled to the brim with work, travel (for work) which pushed me out of my comfort zone, both of my children’s birthdays and everything in-between, so much for easing into the year…!

My latest thoughts are that if January is a (hopefully, gentle) inhale of beginnings, February is the time for a soft exhale, a place to land, to know that we can find a steady, sustainable pace to stretch ourselves into, just as the light begins to grow.

As well as my daughter’s sixth birthday, the ancient Celtic festival of Imbolc played out last weekend, marking the first stirrings of spring, under the light of the full snow moon. I find that my daughter’s birthday and Imbolc arrive at just the right time, bringing a gentle shimmer to these long winter days in London… do you feel it too?

You are invited to The Softening in late winter.

I wanted to remind you about The Softening in late winter — an invitation to gather together around my (virtual…for now!) kitchen table with good coffee, a steaming pot of tea and pastries at 11am-12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February 2026.

We will spend time together in cushioned cosiness, exploring how we can find more softness in our lives, allowing us to sink deeper into the muted magic of late winter — it feels especially needed at this time of year.

Paid members of The Beauty Thread. will have received a link to register, you would be so welcome to join us by upgrading your subscription.

Call for contributions.

You are invited to be a part of The Softening in late winter by contributing your interpretation of one (or more) of the following themes:

You could share a ritual, prompt, practice, poem, piece of writing or your own creative interpretation of the ideas above to convey a sense of softening in late winter, as we begin to look towards the beginnings of spring.

It could be video, audio, written, and/or shared during the online retreat at 11am - 12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February 2026.

Please send your submission to lyndsaykaldor@gmail.com by Friday 13th February 2026.

Subscribe now

ATELIER with Java Bere.

It has been a while since I shared an ATELIER interview, and I am so excited by this latest one — with — artist, interior stylist, writer, mother.

I first discovered Java when I happened upon a feature about her home in and was struck by the character, personality and storytelling entwined in the space. Before Christmas, I joined Java’s online workshop for called ‘Tell the Story of Your Home’ (Java has a beautiful workbook by the same name) where we explored home in the cosiest seasons of autumn and winter — it was bursting with inspiration and ideas, as well as feeling deeply comforting and relatable.

I invite you to discover more about Java’s creative process, practices and incredibly magical studio, in the latest instalment of the ATELIER series…

Where do you write and create?

At the kitchen table, in bed (if it’s very cold and my bones are weary), at other people’s kitchen tables, but these days, mainly in my studio.

How do you like to approach a creative workday?

After getting the kids to school, I march down the hill and scurry to my studio, trying to avoid bumping into anyone on the way so I’m not tempted by coffees and catch ups in cafes.

I am always hyper aware of my limited time before pick up, so I’m obsessed with squeezing as much time out of the studio as I can. Which probably doesn’t make me a very fun friend, unfortunately.

Once I get into my studio on the top floor of an old mill, the first thing I’ll do is make a pot of tea and a pot of coffee and eat some fruit and nuts whilst choosing a playlist to listen to.

Each day is different — some days are for writing, some days are for drawing and painting, others involve prepping for workshops, hosting workshops or styling a scene.

Often, the light will dictate what I do. If it’s good for photos or filming, I’ll style a scene and shoot it, or I’ll draw at my desk. Gloomier days are better for writing.

I take dance breaks, chocolate breaks and many tea breaks. And then before I know it, it’s time to march back up the hill and get the kids from school.

In total, I would say I usually get around four hours of work in, if I’m focused. I feel like I am juggling three jobs within part time hours, it can be a lot and I have to be very organised. My diary of lists is my bible.

Are your surroundings important to you?

Extremely. It’s a core part of my work and creative process. But it’s more about unveiling what lies in my surroundings than finding the ‘perfect’ place.

Natural light is hugely important, as is texture. If I am able to, I will make it as soft and light as possible.

We moved around a lot when I was a child, I learned to adapt wherever we went, so it is instinctive for me to work with what I have and what I can find close.

How do you like to feel whilst you are working?

Not too cold! So I wear about ten different layers, which can make it hard to move, but in an old mill, they’re necessary, otherwise my brain won’t function.

Most importantly, I try to adapt what I’m doing on any given day to how I’m generally feeling in my body. If I’m energised and want to be on my feet, there’s no point trying to write. I’ve learned over the years that everything will get done if I listen to what my body and brain naturally want to do. I pay close attention to my menstrual cycles, the moon cycles and the seasons and this helps me enormously in organising my time.

How do you set the tone and energy of your environment?

Music every day and candlelight on gloomy days. And I try and keep my studio clear and tidy. The space is full of objects but every single thing has a place and there is a strong foundation of function to how I have styled and designed the space.

Do you have one place dedicated to your work and creativity, or do you move around?

I currently have three desks! One by the window for drawing, one big table in the centre of the room for styling, and one against the wall with the desktop.

I’ve gone from being crammed into a space on the mezzanine in our house to having an entire studio and I feel very lucky.

I make the space work hard for me, to justify having it. It’s a dream to have it after years of not having an allocated space purely for my work, so there is not a day that I take it for granted.

Where do you source creative inspiration?

Everywhere. Pavement cracks, food packaging, old book covers, iron railings, the fruit bowl, melted wax, peeling paint, overheard conversations, stuff my kids say, tv, film, morning light, afternoon light, old fabric, coffee stains, birds, the homes of my friends.

I find the most interesting things to do in this world are to watch and listen, very carefully.

Do you have any rituals around your work?

Hot drinks, fruit, dark chocolate and fizzy water.

Hydration and flavour keep me going.

And enough sleep, and not too much coffee when I’m drawing and painting especially.

What would your dream creative studio space look like?

My studio, freshly hoovered, with the sun shining.

More about Java:

Java is an artist, interior stylist and writer. Growing up in a home full of stories, with an artist/interior designer mother and a family full of creatives, her work is a natural continuation of her childhood interests.

Java’s work is rooted in a fascination of how our personal stories inform our daily rituals and creative expression, exploring themes of home, identity and our relationship with spaces and objects.

As well as her styling and artwork, Java hosts workshops in drawing, styling and creative life-planning, both in-person and online.

Java also currently works 1:1 with clients in guiding them within their homes with her workbook ‘Tell the Story of Your Home’. It is a method for investigating your own story, past, present and future and how to lean into this through simple and playful styling techniques, which can then be implemented in the home.

The core of all of Java’s 1:1 work is rooted in play, experimenting, supporting you in finding confidence in your style decisions and creating a space that feels inspiring, safe and most importantly, personal to you.

Java’s work has been featured by the BBC, 91 Magazine, TABLE magazine and Heiter magazine, with a book coming in 2027, more details soon to be announced.

You can find Java online below:

From Java with Love | Java Bere | Instagram @javabere

From Java with Love

Artist, Writer, Home Stylist, Workshop Creator.

By Java Ceridwen Bere

I loved hearing the story of Java’s creative space, so much resonated with me — from being super-conscious of fitting in as much as possible during school hours, the bid to stay warm, and the importance of a dark chocolate ritual — I am also inspired to take more dance breaks…!

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Java’s enchanting creative world — as always, your thoughts and own experiences are so welcome in the comments.

Much late winter love,

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P.S. Find out more about The Beauty Thread., the paid membership within Story & Thread. — you can read or listen to more by clicking the link below…

Introducing The Beauty Thread. by Lyndsay.

Tending and telling our stories inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder.

*creative gatherings | co-working | considered space | crafted PR*.

Subscribe now

If you are feeling overwhelmed, out of alignment with your inner wisdom, and holding your stories tightly inside, this is an invitation to join The Beauty Thread. — a home that will provide you with time, space and quietude to come into relationship with yourself and the world around you. A place to put down roots, to cultivate your soil, to nurture your inner landscape, a place to grow from…

I would love to support you in your own homecoming with a multi-layered offering at The Beauty Thread. including seasonal creative gatherings, cosy co-working sessions, and resources to support you in crafting the stories of your creative business using meaningful PR.

It would be an honour to welcome you into the cosy, creative community at The Beauty Thread….you can find all of the details are in the page below…

Subscribe now

Our next creative gathering is The Softening in late winter from 11-12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February, more details above and here.

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“When the wind of winter blows over the uplands and moonlit spaces.

Come ye out to the waste of snows to the glimmering fields and the silent places.”

—Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Dearest reader…

I wanted to drop into your inbox today to propose today as ‘Soft Monday’, a much-needed reframe of ‘Blue Monday’, the name given to the third Monday in January in the northern hemisphere.

Labelled ‘Blue Monday’ in 2005, thanks to psychologist Cliff Arnall’s research into the third Monday of January being “the most depressing day of the year”, it was first used in a press release written for a travel company aiming to boost holiday sales.

Although undoubtedly a successful, creative PR campaign, and there being undeniable truth embedded within the combination of factors that Arnall points to to draw his conclusions1, I prefer to think about what, short of a holiday, we might need instead. Rather than bracing ourselves for “the most depressing day” ahead, perhaps we can find the joyful moments by approaching the day with softness…

I would love to hear how your day unfolds with softness…

Leave a comment

Introducing The Softening in late winter.

Today feels like a good time to tell you more about The Softening in late winter — an invitation to gather together around my (virtual…for now!) kitchen table with good coffee, a steaming pot of tea and pastries at 11am-12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February 2026.

We will spend time together, in cushioned comfort and cosiness, to explore how we can find more softness in our lives, allowing us to sink deeper into the muted magic of late winter.

Alongside an invitation to the gathering, will be an accompanying magazine-style guidebook for all members of The Beauty Thread. and an email edit for all subscribers, detailing all of the ways we can find softness in this season.

The Softening is a move toward mellow over sharp, gentle over glaring, quiet over loud, smooth over rough, suffused over intense, dreamy over fixed. We can choose softness as a way to meld, merge, yield and breathe rather than to brace, tense, force and push. It is learning that there is power in allowing ourselves to bend rather than break — that rather than signalling weakness, there is unshakeable strength to be found in softness…

Call for contributions.

An important reason for creating The Softening was a pull towards softness and sharing, curation and collaboration, in community. I was delighted by how The Softening in late autumn came together, each contribution a gift of support, like spells to conjure a truly collaborative cauldron of warmth and delight.

You are invited to be a part of The Softening in late winter by contributing your interpretation of one (or more) of the following themes:

You could share a ritual, prompt, practice, poem, piece of writing or your own creative interpretation of the ideas above to convey a sense of softening in late winter as we look towards the beginnings of spring.

It could be video, audio, written, and/or shared during the online retreat at 11am - 12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February 2026.

Please send your submission to lyndsaykaldor@gmail.com by Friday 13th February 2026.

The Softening is intended to be a movement, a way of being, a remembering, a return, and a retreat. I hope you will join me…

Much (soft) Monday love,

Leave a comment

P.S. You can check out The Softening in late autumn below…

Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“Now imagine the inner:

soul, intelligence, the secret worlds!

And don’t think the garden loses its

ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous”.

—Rumi.

Dearest reader…

Yesterday we met for the Gather & Tend. co-working space in winter — it felt like a good opportunity to gather ourselves back together after busy festive times, to anchor ourselves in this mid-January moment of winter, and to tend to the work we wanted to catch up on.

I loved hearing about where everyone is at, during what feels like a liminal time — after the festivities, but before we have moved towards the growth seasons. We discussed how January seems to fall into two camps — of either a time for ‘turning over a new leaf’ underlined with self-improvement, restriction and discipline, or as a time for complete rest, inactivity and hibernation.

I shared the extract above by Sufi poet Rumi which to me speaks so beautifully of this time — that despite the starkness of winter, much more is taking place beneath the surface than we realise, in preparation for the seasons ahead. That winter’s space of transition, incubation and dormancy holds the quiet potential for everything to unfold.

Below is the playlist that accompanied us, a recording of the co-working session is included above for all members of The Beauty Thread., with a free preview for all.

January reflections.

We spoke about how we are re-writing the January script.

I am replacing,

• Resolution with living softly

• Restriction with dreaming expansively

• Rushing with easing in

• Doing with preparing

• Knowing with feeling/sensing

• Individual goals with community

**How would you re-write your January script?

Towards the end of the session, we spoke about January as a time of liminality, thresholds and transition. I loved discovering the words below by Kristen Roderick,

“In the liminal stage of transition, we are between roles, identities, relationships and ways of being. It’s a time marked by waiting, patience, and incubation. At this time, we are in a space of learning and discovery rather than making plans or meeting goals.

Often the most uncomfortable stage of transition, it’s generally considered a time when nothing is happening, and the dormancy of winter reflects that beautifully. This is the space where everything comes to be”.

**What feels like an act of preparation for you this January?

A collective oracle card for winter.

I pulled an oracle card for everyone within the session, and a collective card for all of us from Folklore Oracle by Hadas Knox, illustrated by Giada Rose.

**Shapeshifter - can you dance between forms?

The lore - shapeshifters dance fluidly between forms, between light and shadows, trials and triumphs.

Meaning - shapeshifting lore tells of more than physical changes. It explores an initiation into a soul’s wilderness, where authentic selves are as diverse as the trees. The more you can adapt and embrace change, the louder your own voice will ring…

Here is an upcoming date for your diary — The Softening retreat in late winter will take place at 11am - 12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 25th February 2026.

I look forward to sharing more details soon, including themes and ideas for contributions to the retreat and guidebook for late winter — watch this space, I would be so delighted to include your wisdom within The Softening…

Thank you so much for reading, watching and/or listening. I hope you manage to find some time to dive deep into this time of liminality, knowing that it holds the potential for everything that lies ahead.

Much January love,

Leave a comment

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Hello I’m Lyndsay, I am so glad you have found your way here…

Welcome to Story & Thread., a cosy, welcoming place to be inspired by the quiet power of noticing beauty & wonder. Here we explore our creative lives through the lens of the seasons, and what it means to tell our stories with meaningful PR.

All subscribers will receive regular thoughtful posts about creativity, mothering, home and garden through a soft seasonal lens. You are invited to become a member of The Beauty Thread., to join a creative community for online seasonal gatherings, guides, co-working spaces and soon, guidance for crafting a considered PR kit for your creative business.

Subscribe now

“You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows…”

—Mark Strand, The Coming of Light.

Dearest reader…

Happy New Year!

How were the festivities for you? I hope that you were able to find moments of calm amongst chaos, magic in the mayhem — and that you have been able to fill your cup (in whatever way that looks to you).

My Christmas-time/Yuletide has been both fun and exhausting — without much of a plan as the Christmas holidays began, we found our way — staying in London and enjoying a combination of low-key local days, time at home, and a few festive adventures in town.

At the same time, there are a lot of things we didn’t get around to doing, and I have had a lot of thoughts along the way (!) — I have wanted to carve out the time to write to you, but have found myself too tired to put pen to paper (or indeed, fingers to keys) in the evenings.

Many evenings have been spent wrapping and preparing (this has remained ongoing as we celebrate my son’s 4th birthday today!), or finding myself curled up with a festive film, and so I recorded a voicenote for you when I found a pocket of time to walk in the wintry woods on New Year’s Day…

Hello January — the most misunderstood month of the year?

As many of you know, I avoid much of the January ‘New Year New Me’ and messaging and goal-setting urgency that we seem to be bombarded with at this time of year, whilst we remain in the chilly depths of winter. It has always felt like too much of an abrupt arrival in amongst the languid haze of Romjul/Twixtmas, and a stark contrast to the cosiness of Christmas to me.

I prefer to see these early days of the new year as a time to ease into rather than rushing forward, of dreaming expansively rather than restricting ourselves, and living softly instead of resolving to make sweeping changes straightaway.

Below are two of my January-themed posts, a time I love to write about, as one of the most misunderstood months of the year in my opinion…

I feel sure that I will be layering my thoughts of soft and slow in these posts with my perspective from this January soon, and I’d love to hear how you feel about this month too…

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Befriending the dark and holding the light.

I have been reflecting about how I continue to find more contentment in the short, dark days of winter as each year passes, whilst also being comforted by all of the glimmers of light I can find. The first thing I do in the morning is to open the curtains and take in the colour of the sky — sometimes still in complete darkness with twinkly lights visible through our neighbours’ windows, sometimes a chalky cloud blanket, or a watercolour palette of pastel shades.

Next, I turn on the fairy lights that are entwined with ivy wrapped around the banister; and switch on the twinkly lights on the Christmas tree (though I realise these days are numbered!), and light candles that glow and diffuse a familiar Christmassy scent. I bathe in the cool luminescence of the pale sunshine that floods our living room at the back of the house on a clear day, I marvel at the piercing clarity of the winter moons (hello Full Wolf Moon!), and I have been spotting glittery stars everywhere, both in the sky and in the faded finery of Christmas.

This kindling, holding and honouring of light feels like a very natural urge that we have been dancing with for thousands of years — in my voicenote above, I touch on some of the light-filled festivals that we have been celebrating since antiquity to the present day, during the darker part of the year — from the diva lamps and fireworks of Diwali, to the bonfires of Samhain, the lanterns of Martinmas, the symbolic candles of Hanukkah, Saturnalia and Advent, the lamps and red fruits of Yalda Night, the ceremonial burning of the Yule Log at the winter solstice, and the starry lights of Christmas.

The twinkling lights that adorn our homes and streets during the festive season are more than decorations, they carry deep symbolic meanings reminding us of the returning light of the sun, the tending and protecting of our inner light in the darkness that surrounds us, and perhaps most significantly, the warmth conjured by community and connection.

In times of darkness and division in the world that we live in, this quote from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks feels pertinent, "in dark times, there are those who curse the darkness and others who light a candle.”

Your reflections on precious winter light.

I adored receiving your reflections on light and darkness in the days around the winter solstice…

From in Stockholm, Sweden,

“the light here in Stockholm today is completely different than the light for the entire last month. We have only had twenty five minutes of sunshine in all of December - it is historically the darkest December since 1934! But, today. Today… SUN! It’s unbelievably magical and feels like promise and hope. I’ve loved the dark this month, but this feels completely fresh and new. A hint of life in the middle of winter”.

From in Kent, UK,

“the light today feels soft…comforting…and is calling me to just be gentle and take my time. I’m glad it’s not a bright sunny day as it feels more tender to be under a neutral blanket of sky on this day. We are going to candlelit carols this evening which feels like a lovely way to honour the sparkle and twinkle of this season”.

From , South Downs, UK,

“dusk crept in as early as I’ve known it, washed down from heavy skies by leaden rain rods that catch like flint sparks on blackbird alarm calls in the holly hedge. Even the moon has turned her ancient face away. We are in the deep dark, the womb dark, like the papery bulbs planted in the good soil we settle and shift deep underground.

Even the cat chooses the light of the fireside, watching in approval as I light a candle in the lamp in the window. I mean it as a defiance against the dark, and yet it seems to solidify the darkness beyond the glass, calling to it so that it presses tight up against the pane. This will be a long night. Tomorrow, the snowdrop spears will stand just a little taller, the thrush’s bell will chime a dawn, and cat will venture out again on velvet paws into winter sunlight. And I shall drink tea in the doorway, and wonder why we were ever scared of the dark at all”.

From in Wales, UK,

“I have always simply enjoyed the cosiness of a dark January and the bright long days of July without ever giving it a thought.

This isn’t so much an appreciation of the deep winter glimmers, but my appreciation of a sky that tells it’s own story. There is a theme here for me. I have an affinity to the realm of the sky.

This autumn has been one like no other I can remember. We have had tropical rain showers followed by the most amazingly wonderful sun and rainbows galore. The sky has danced with a life that is indescribable. It’s been a tantalising iridescence with flashes of pinks, purples and reds. But more than anything I was aware of an expanse of seemingly eternity. It felt as if this iridescence had formed a protective shield around itself whilst somehow reflecting itself back, drawing me in to its mystique. It was as if the sky was revealing a clarity, of what I don’t know.

This has led me to follow the sky into December. I have long been used to waking up in the dark and having to put all the lights on just to get going and then as my day is set to begin, I replace the synthetic brightness with the soft gentle glow of candles and fairy lights with the hope (and expectation) that this gentleness sets the precedence of the day I want to have.

But my absolute favourite light is as the day fades and it darkens outside, the sky dances to a different tune. The sky seems to descend beckoning me into it — I feel like I can scoop some of it into my hands and as I inhale the magic of it, my soul begins to beat in tandem to the sky’s rhythm”.

**How does the light look to you this January?

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A gentle bridge between years.

Since the closing days of December, I have been building a gentle bridge between years that is helping me to ease into January…

• Home in winter — I have been leaning into the remaining fragments of the festive season. I am never one to be desperate to clear the decks and love to hang onto the decorations and cosiness for as long as possible. This weekend we will have to say goodbye to the Christmas tree, and I will begin to slowly transform the festive decorations into winter adornments (with some added birthday sparkle for the January birthdays in our house) that provide beauty, colour and light whilst it remains stark and still outside.

  Paper snowflakes remain hanging on the windows and in the entrance; holly and ivy trail alongside the shoots of paperwhites, candles, stars and winter citrus decorations will stay for as long as possible, and we have added paper pompoms in fresh pastels and birthday bunting this weekend.

  

  To honour winter as the season of home, I have taken the paywall off A Storied Home. in winter until the end of February — a very gentle guide to creating a sanctuary for softening into the season, led by the senses, and our stories to cultivate a feeling of sacredness and homecoming.

  It includes,

  - gentle intentions for creating softness and sparkle at home in winter

  - an exploration of the power of the fire element in bringing warmth to our homes, including warming rituals to appeal to each of the senses

  - stories of a winter garden

  

• Time in a winter garden — I have finally managed to plant all of the bulbs I bought over autumn (better late than never I say…!) and it has been so restoring to spend time in a quiet, frosty garden. I find calm out in the garden like nowhere else, knowing my children are tucked up in the warmth of the living room and requiring minimal intervention from me (especially when they are watching a film!). I have been sweeping away dead leaves, cutting back last year’s growth that is brown at the edges, making space for bulbs and freshness.

  

  Snowdrop spears are already standing strong, and narcissi shoots are visible in almost every corner of the garden from previous year’s bulbs. It feels like a tangible reminder of the continuing cycles of life, death and rebirth, and that we need to remove debris, to make space for light and newness. Whilst immersing myself deep in a winter garden, the sight of hardy shoots resolute in the cold earth bring me hope and anticipation for the days ahead.

  You can read more about my time in the garden in winter below…

  

• Oracles and omens — in the final days of December, I found a precious hour to myself to create my oracle spread for the year ahead, a gentle practice inspired by liz ❍↟☽, this year using the Folklore oracle deck.

  I pulled twelve cards and arranged them month-by-month in a circle, writing down the card for each month with its meanings and prompts, alongside a talisman from my daily observations during the Omen Days (an ancient Celtic practice that takes place over twelve days from 26th December to 6th January, see ’s recent post for more details and a beautiful guide to taking part) a time of quiet divination which asks us to observe the world around us, to look for meanings that correspond to each month of the year ahead.

  

  This year, I intend to return to each card and omen each month to see what comes up. My card for January is Moon Phases, with the prompt, how can you radiate light in the dark? which feels apt after all of the pondering on winter glimmers that I have been doing…

**Do you have any practices that help you adjust to a new year?

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Winter dates for the diary in The Beauty Thread. membership.

Are you looking for a gentle start to the New Year?

We will gather from 11-12.30pm GMT on Wednesday 14th January to embrace a soft, expansive and slow start to the year, in the Gather & Tend. winter co-working space.

We will take time to TEND to ourselves, to reflect, dream and sense what shape the year might take, with time to dip our toes into our work in 2026, individually but together — from the comfort of home in the container of a cosy online co-working space.

The co-working space is available to all within The Beauty Thread. membership, where I will send the link to register soon. You would be so welcome to join us…

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*The Softening in winter retreat will take place on Wednesday 25th February 2026. I will soon be welcoming contributions to the retreat and accompanying magazine-style guidebook and will send more details about the themes for your interpretation soon.

All contributors will receive a complimentary month’s membership to The Beauty Thread.

See links to The Softening in late autumn in case you missed it…

I would love to hear how you are feeling as we journey both deeper into winter, and into a new year.

Much wintry love,