Sitting down to write something here has been on my mind, and on my ‘to do’ list for MONTHS, what started off - let’s be honest here, - as procrastination, became derailed by life, as life does. Or at least seems to do for me anyway.

There’s been a LOT going on and it isn’t showing much sign of slowing just yet. I’ve wanted to write here for weeks now, it feels almost a cathartic outlet I’ve yearned for but the goings on of life haven’t allowed it, until now. I’ve moved house, out of my Mum’s and into my own home with my partner and today, acquired a Maine Coon kitten and we got WIFI! All of a sudden I feel connected to the world again - it is ludicrous really but it is the reality of today’s world.

Just over a month ago, my world got turned on it’s head when my Dad was taken (rather hurriedly and with immense reluctance on his part) to hospital as he was struggling to breathe. Now, at this time, my Mum was away on holiday and my two sisters were living their lives in London, leaving me and a family friend to navigate the situation which, in it’s earliest stage, we all thought would be fixable, relatively simply. Shortly after we arrived in hospital, it became apparent things were far more serious than we’d first thought and my Dad’s condition deteriorated rapidly to the point he lost consciousness and without a machine to help him, he wasn’t breathing effectively. Long story short, through a combination of Respiratory Failure and Oxygen supplied, his body was poisoning itself with Carbon Dioxide. His Blood Gas levels were off the scale - unrecordable with the levels of Carbon Dioxide in his system.

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Thanks though to a wonderful nurse called Holly, who’s intervention with a machine saved his life effectively and began to bring his levels down after another had essentially written him off, he regained consciousness and rejoined us in the land of the living. Though not before calling my two sisters home from London, multiple panicked calls with my Mum stuck abroad and being told I should start to say my goodbyes, which subsequently I did… something no one should have to do, I cannot begin to explain the emotional turmoil of that.

People talk of the ‘light’, and it is always something that has intrigued me, and whilst he didn’t claim to see the light, what he did experience will stay with me for the rest of my life. Lil bit of background here*: Most of you will know that my Dad lives with a rare genetic condition called Glycogen Storage Disease Type 2 (known as Pompes) and as a result, has not been able to run - a task most of us don’t even think about, - for over two decades now. In the last 10 years, he’s stopped walking completely and now spends each day in his motorised wheelchair to retain his independence.

He told us, that whilst he was ‘away’, he dreamt. He dreamt that he ran. Whenever I’d considered him no longer being with us, as I have over the years following the various frank chats we have, I’d always wanted to believe that wherever is next, whatever that looks like, that he would have regained that ability to walk and run. And hearing that, having seen how close to that place he was, felt like confirmation.

It’s been turbulent since then, with a rough two-week stint in our local hospital, then transferred to London (where my sisters could visit), to now being transferred to a specialist unit in Redhill and all that comes with that. In life’s typical fashion of ‘time waits for no man’, I was needed to return to the yard (after a week of incredible support from my liveries I must add), and to preparing to move out and into my own home, starting a new chapter with my partner.

This weather is causing no end of issues at the yard, with electric not getting conducted through the fences due to the immensely dry ground. I have been arriving to escaped horses almost daily and whilst most owners are apologetic and eager to do whatever they can to help, some are less so, which makes the job ten times more testing. Simba has been struggling with the flies hugely and almost ended up with a very problematic manly area - cue additional stress! Nala has been practicing her contortionist skills with the fencing due to not being ridden/stimulated. Behaviour I can only imagine you might see in a child who’s parent really needs them to be good in a stressful time, only to proceed to be a total terror. Riding though, has gone out the window, as it often does when life overwhelms me.

Work on Book 2 has stopped (for now) as you can imagine all creativity has dried up and shrivelled. But I am optimistic that now WIFI has been secured and Remy is here safely, I can now begin to carve out time to revisit Paradise Ridge. I think Step 1 is going to have to be reading what I’ve got so far, as it’s been so long I’ve almost forgotten!!

Only this week, I bought home Dad’s kitten - Remy, a beautiful Maine Coon I’d found for him only a few months prior from a lovely breeder, after he decided it wouldn’t be fair on her, or safe for him to have her anymore. She is settling in well, and a joy to have around. I’d visited her for him as a kitten with Mum, and my partner and I picked her up and bought her home to Dad when she first arrived, so it felt appt that she come and stay with me. I think Nellie is quite happy to have a sister.

Surely life will settle down again soon?

This past month has really changed my perspective on what’s important, and how I want to live my life. My Dad’s patience, resilience and perseverance in the face of his physical adversity has long been inspiring, his stubbornness less so (I know you’ll read this, so that’s for you!). I’ve often said, and written here more than once, I want the freedom of my time being relatively speaking my own, and to slow down. And whilst much of my lifestyle restricts my timing (horses needing feeding either end of the day), there are things I can do to maximise the time and freedom I do have to spend it doing things that are meaningful. Slowing down just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me, but, I intend to push for it. It’s slowing down enough so that mentally I feel I have space to breathe, to think and to just exist for a minute before I’m needed next.

The house has been a sanctuary, as I hoped it would be. As I’m writing this, the yard was done this morning (and covered this afternoon), Nellie is sleeping beside me and Remy is purring on my chest as I peer through furry ears to type. WIFI being turned on is a game changer as our quaint little village is a signal black hole, so we’ve had nothing for the almost two weeks we’ve been here, which in many ways has been nice, but I think we’re both ready to be able to live limitlessly again. We shocked ourselves how many times we went to Google something, and couldn’t.

In between visits to Dad, Mum had been busy upcycling bits of furniture for us which look perfect in their new home and in the pockets of quiet I find, I’ve been busy making this house a home for the three - now four, of us. My hyper independence due to years of needing to manage alone, resulted in be assembling the sofa, changing three pairs of curtains, figuring out how to sort the TV and taking down every shelf in the house for Mum to paint.

The Year of the Fire Horse isn’t without it’s challenges but I’d expect no less as a horse owner myself - horses are challenging. It is about how we handle those challenges and move forward from them. Day 2 of the house involved removing a stagnant pond and rehoming it’s fish from the garden, which Nellie, being a water loving Labrador had taken a liking to!

Life looks different now to how it did a month ago, but it’s recognising that and forming a plan to move into this new chapter that is the focus. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Google when Maine Coon’s stop growing and how to make the electric work at the yard!

When I realised 2027 would mark a decade of business, I wanted to make it count. Not only from a business perspective, but from a personal one too and so, I am sowing the seeds.

Over the past 10 years, the brand I started way back then has changed too, as have all of you, as have I. Back in 2017, I started with a simple little Wix website I’d built in one evening which operated as an online blog… It’s A Country Life, I proudly called it then.

I had this fire in me, this belief that it should become a printed magazine, that there was a gap in the market for young women living in and loving British country life and style. Within 6 months, I’d launched the first printed magazine (my InDesign skills were VERY basic, think boxes, lots of boxes). Only to be served a Cease & Desist rather quickly by the giants at Country Life rather quickly - a terrifying experience for 21 year old me, but I remember choosing to reframe it and tell myself it was in fact a compliment that I’d been ‘noticed’ by such notable publishing giants. For Issue 2, we’d rebranded and In The Country was born. I never looked back… until Covid changed everything. I was on track for ITC’s biggest year yet, and that all fell apart over night.

Those of you who have followed me and my story since the beginning know that the years following Covid, until now, have been a bit stop and start. I’ve spoken about reviving the magazine a couple of times, and even co-founded with Emma Warren, which completely reignited my spark and love for writing and sharing stories, but also fuelled that desire to produce in print again, and so, in 2024, Emma took the reins on CWG and I relaunched ITC. But, on reflection, I didn’t get it right, and so I took time to reflect, to sit with what worked, what didn’t and to really observe the movement of the niche I was trying to break into: the UK country and western community and industry.

I have a creative pull in me that I can’t ignore. I feel compelled to share stories, to create and to move within the publishing space but, I’ve come to realise over this past decade, that it needs to be a slow burn to start, like the original blog to magazine was. Something that fits WITH my lifestyle, and doesn’t grate against it. The goal has to be: flow not friction.

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When I took on my stable yard in the January lockdown of 2021, I thought I could do it all… Run the yard, the magazine, my own horse (now horseS), and maintain a personal life but it turns out I can’t. Who was I kidding? I’m done pretending that I can make life work around my business.

I’m also done pretending I’m still the same girl I was a decade ago back in 2017.

I’ve had my fair share of growth experiences over that time as I’ve evolved from girl to woman. Your 20s are full of trials and tribulations, of searching for that sense of purpose and belonging, of navigating social circles and relationships and just learning who you are.

But as a country woman, I wanted to step into something that celebrated and embodies this as a new era of life starts, so too does a new era of creative business and story telling.

Over the past almost decade, I’ve watched country girls graduate, meet partners, buy and build homes (figuratively and literally), launch businesses, become mothers and ultimately grow into incredible and inspirational country women.

I’m done pretending that my vision is the same now as it was then.

I can accept and get excited by the fact that my vision is now different. It’s no secret looking at my Instagram that my direction has shifted. For a long time I felt like the traditional ‘British country’ just didn’t quite sit right with me, like I didn’t belong or my face didn’t fit, and with the huge movement of western style here in the UK following the likes of Yellowstone and the rise in country music’s popularity it allowed me to step into a personal lifestyle that felt more like my own, than the stereotypical British country style. I wrote a book - a western romance, which includes subtle threads of this throughout. I know I’m not alone in those feelings. I’ve spoken to dozens of women who felt the same way and have said that the Americana country style feels so much more them.

I’ve taken that even further and have pursued Western riding, purchasing an American Quarter Horse and diving head first into that too, immersing myself in a new community from which I’ve already made some wonderful new connections.

My life and I, we look different now. I, like so many others, want to live a life which compliments my interests and future plans, not one that contradicts and constrains.

I relaunched In The Country in 2024, but I didn’t quite get it right. That isn’t to say I can’t. I have been reflecting, observing and mapping out what ‘right’ looks like. I suppose I wanted to speak this out loud, to no longer sit on it.

It’s all too easy to stay in the wings, to excuse the non-movement… stepping into the light, onto the stage again, that’s a whole lot harder. But, it was a missed email and opportunity earlier this week which gave me that final little nudge to leave behind the safety and comfort of the stage’s curtains and wings and slowly step back onto the stage.

So, I have launched a new space, here - In The Country - on Substack, a blog essentially where I can return to writing with no pressure and no need, just passion. What comes next? Well that’s still to come.

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I’d love for you to follow along if you’d like to. I have so much I want to write about, it is just getting started, I think that might be the ADHD in me - but, starting is the first step in the right direction. What’s the saying?

There’s been little time for anything but horse care, energy is sparse and sacred, but the recent sunshine acts as a jump start for a return to ‘living’. The return of the sunshine promises drier, longer and brighter (all round) days to come as the energy of life returns. We go from surviving to thriving once more as nature awakens and the world ramps up around us after the sleepy months. If you’re an equestrian, or farmer, you’ll be familiar with this.

Battling relentless rain, oozing mud and what feels like 5 hours of workable daylight either side of horse’s breakfast and dinner times, left little room for creativity. But just as the buds return to the trees and blossom begins to emerge, creativity seems to follow a similar pattern.

My horses (and my liveries) moved to living out 24/7 on the Easter weekend as they do annually - a weekend I am always so relieved to see roll around each year, and this year, it was almost two weeks earlier than last year.

With being what feels like chained to the yard since around December, I have committed to finding the time to work with Nala - my American Quarter Horse, given the fact most of my days have been spent down at the yard due to the restrictions of the winter routine. We’ve joined the Western Equestrian Society (WES), attended our two clinics and are making what feels like great progress under saddle, together.

And just this last week, in the sunshine, I’ve sat on my blue eyed boy for the first time after almost six months of recovery; eating, decompressing and being pretty much left alone to be a young horse with horse friends - over human ones. His transformation has been heart warming.

A new year, and a new season brings new perspectives, as does meeting someone special. The kind you’ve longed for and felt like you’ve searched forever for. All of this in the few months of 2026, this Fire Horse year is off to a flying start.

He’s the kind of person who lights you up in every way, and without social media, he’ll likely never read this, but - he’s changed everything. Life looks brighter now, different and all at once clearer with him. Also, Nellie loves him, so that helps!

I’d waited, quietly, for some news for some time, news which I had hoped would give the bruised and scarred corners of myself some relief after injustice, and the Universe came through. I chose to trust in it a long time ago. Though, it was a weird feeling, a bittersweet feeling of sorts, because with that karmic feeling of relief, it bought around the ugly truth that someone else had to suffer like me in order to bring about this freeing feeling I now felt - it felt as though a weight had been lifted, and yet, a little stayed behind, knowing someone else had to now bare the same scars no one would ever see.

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I’ve started writing again now that the winter is behind us, and now that my energy isn’t reserved entirely for caring for the horses and yard jobs. I find I go through the same cycle each Winter and Spring, it is like the retreat of an enormous wave, only to build and build and build over the winter months, when, come Spring, the wave breaks, and rolls down, releasing all the creativity I’d been unable to reach during those relenting months. I feel the re-ignition of the familiar fire of creativity, of ideas, of passion for writing return and actively want to write again both the book and sharing people’s stories like I used to through ITC.

Summer 2025 was a weird one for me, it was one which in so many ways was healing, needed and affirming in numerous areas of my life, but it also pulled me from my passions, one of which I very nearly gave up - the yard. And looking back now, from perhaps the best place I’ve been in for all my adult life, so far, it would have been for the wrong reasons, and a mistake I’d likely have regretted.

People say, life can change overnight, and it is so true. Life looks completely different now, and if you’d have told me, this is where I’d be a year ago, I would have shrugged you off. One of my best friends is getting married in 2027, another has a baby on the way due this Spring, I’m in a relationship with the kind of man I could only have wished for, and my animals are all happy and healthy. Oh, and I turned 30!

I’ve gone from surviving to thriving and I am genuinely excited for what is to come. I’ll write again soon. X

I was born in 1996, the Year of the Fire Rat - charming one might think, however delving into the traits associated with ratty, such as: intelligence, charming, imaginative, diligent and good at understanding people, being a Fire Rat doesn’t seem so underwhelming after all.

Some of the strengths of a person born within the Fire Rat years include:

• Creativity… tick.

• Loyal to family and friends… tick.

Whilst some of the challenges they face are said to include; ‘may struggle to promote ideas’… tick - can’t self-promote my own book for sh*t.

As we leave behind the Year of the Snake and enter the Year of the Horse, my FYPs have been flooded with insightful graphics. The main message seems to be that the Year of the Snake has been a year of ‘shedding’, before an era of feeling reborn. The snake cleared the path for the horse to carry us forward.

It’s an odd one if you do not feel a connection to such things, however since being introduced to the concept of Saturn Returns a few years ago, I feel the synchronicities of such celestial concepts/events and connections in my own life that it is hard to dismiss.

And just as Saturn Returns seemed to reflect so much of what I was going through and feeling in my own life as I was in the heart of mine, the Year of the Snake and it’s connotations seemed to link inexplicably in my own life as I reflected back on the year, all before I knew about it.

Whilst you can delve deeply into it all, far deeper than I have explored, I have learnt as I’ve stayed near to the surface that, this particular snake year symbolises, completion and closure which I audibly scoffed at when I discovered it. It couldn’t have been more accurate. According to Google’s AI again, “The Wood Snake energy combines with the global numerology of 9 (2+0+2+5=9), marking a powerful cycle of karmic closure and finishing old chapters.” Sing it sister!

This year saw the closure of a chapter that has lasted around 9 years in my life, it’s kept coming around on a loop throughout that time, but this year, whilst I put my heart on the line and it got toyed with, taken advantage of, battered and bruised, through it all, the chapter was closed, for the final time. So when I read this a couple of months after, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

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I’ve also let go of things that no longer serve me and my future, stepped into a more authentic me through pursuing my western riding, embracing my love for country music and my unwavering passion for horses. Not only that but, I reclaimed my own ‘power’, belief in myself and set (and have upheld) boundaries both personally and professionally, all without even knowing that these were all key themes of the Year.

If you take a few quiet moments to look back on this year, can you identify experiences and times where things in your life link to these themes and the shedding energy of the Snake?

As we leave behind the snake, our 2025 skin shedded, and move towards the horse, renewed, what can we expect?

Well, as a horse girl through and through, I was delighted to discover that the key themes for the Year of the Horse in particular, the Fire Horse, include: bold new beginnings, powerful forward momentum, freedom, passion, beauty, truth and alignment.

One things horses have always shown me is that there is no deceit. They are honest. Much like dogs. They never lie, they are only ever their authentic selves with no ulterior motive. If you quieten yourself and slow down enough to read their body language you can work in harmony with them, but if you are brash, too quick, distracted and come in like a bull in a china shop… well - things won’t go well, and you will get little sense or respect from them. Perhaps this, can be likened to how we interact with others in 2026?

For me, the idea of new beginnings and powerful forward momentum excite me, especially as I enter a new decade and chapter of my life - my thirties! As a hopeless creative, with an entrepreneurial soul, I crave creating, and storytelling is something that lights me up. Freedom is something I think so many of us long for, in many forms and I’ve long wanted to create a life of freedom for myself - so could 2026 be that year. The year when things take shape, with the powerful momentum of the horse, and it’s ability only to live authentically, perhaps we’ll all be cantering towards our dreams as the year progresses - moving towards our goals.

I was chatting away to a friend about this the other day and explained how, this year coming just feels different. I always get optimistic as one year ends and another begins, but this year, it feels different - it feels aligned and genuinely I am so looking forward to what is in store, let’s hope the Horse we get is a steady, majestic, kind type, rather than a neurotic, anxious, spooky wreck! Channelling more of the all-rounder, a docile, intelligent, versatile Quarter Horse, rather than the stereotypical sensitive, hot headed ex-racer please 2026!

Chapter one.

West Sussex, England.

ELLIE

It was a grey and rainy mid-January day. The haze of Christmas and the New Year’s celebrations were, thankfully, behind us for another year as I sat, buried beneath an oversized lambswool tartan blanket, the pattern a cosy mixture of orange, yellow, red and blue tones. With the worst of a relenting British winter behind us, I felt optimistic for the welcome arrival of spring; for days spent outdoors basking in the warmth of the sun and embracing the longer daylight hours down in my horsey haven.

A day off from the business and the associated physical demands of running a bustling livery yard, meant I had surrendered to my go-to ‘comfort’ outfit; high-waisted, black leggings, which hugged the curves of my legs and hips, clinging to my waist perfectly, paired with an oversized khaki R.M.Williams men’s jumper, that had journeyed back with me from my earlier travels in New Zealand during my late teens, such a favourite is this jumper that its cuffs are beginning to bobble from the excessive wear, despite my overflowing wardrobe, which really I ought to be sifting through and uploading to Vinted rather than sitting here scrolling aimlessly.

My long, wavy brunette hair twirled up and held in place with an oversized crocodile clip, out of the way. My mane had a natural ombré tone to it with rich, deep brown roots leading to sun kissed ends year round, though, a few more greys than I’d like had made themselves known this past year.

At 27, outwardly I appeared like an ordinary, single woman in her late-twenties, despite the equestrian affliction. Yet, in my heart and soul I felt different, I felt pulled in a direction that was away from here. I had always been different to my friends and my family even. My sisters weren’t interested in the country way of life, busy pursuing successful jobs in Graphic Design and Fashion up in the capital city. Mum, bless her, was terrified of horses, and much more at home in the comfort and sanctuary, her luxurious new-build town house, styled over three floors. Though, to give her the credit she is owed, she tried, genuinely to get behind my hobby as I grew up, though for her, the passion just didn’t take root, instead I think it magnified her fear further. Dad though, recognised and resonated with my innate love for horses and the outdoors, he’d been raised on a traditional farm in the wilds of Scotland, back when horses were used to plough the fields and haul hay about. He however had ambitions beyond the small-scale farm and left it and his family up north behind to pursue a career in architecture, one which would (he hoped) provide him with the income to create the life he longed for.

I truly hope, he feels that sense of accomplishment now, living in an impressive, sprawling home, which he built from the ground up, along with three others on the same road which he’d sold for a handsome profit, affording him an early retirement. His many projects in the past saw us live in some incredible houses in unforgettable locations, though me, being the pony-mad young girl I was, would always venture off, away from the safety and comfort of the house, my parents and my sisters, in search of nearby equines. I’d always find them.

From beneath my blanket, curled up on the plush grey sofa surrounded by a myriad of western inspired cushions, I settled into aimless scrolling, through the latest Instagram reels, ones which today, the algorithm thinks I might like, as my latest mug of tea sat cooling on the coffee table. Its steam evaporating into the room’s atmosphere with slow swirls of hot air rising from within, accompanied by country music melodies that filled the living room of my one-bedroom, quaint cottage rental.

My endeavour of escapism was interrupted by a ping, as a notification appeared from the top of my phone’s screen: a new email. It was from my landlords.

Pausing my scroll, I dubiously exited the app and opened my emails. It was rare that I heard from my landlords, they kept their distance where the stable yard was concerned and made it clear they were not interested in the horses from day one, almost five years ago now. So, this email piqued my interest, and my anxiety…

The subject read: Tenancy Update, a lump slowly and uncontrollably started building in my throat, my palms immediately becoming clammy and an unnerving feeling began swelling in the pit of my stomach. Reluctantly, I clicked on the email to open it, it read:

‘Dear Ellie,

Thank you for your unwavering care of the stable yard over the past few years. We regret to inform you, we have been offered a substantial sum for the property should we sell for development. As you know we have young families and have decided to sell.

Please take this as the start of your three month notice period. We hope you can understand our decision. We understand you will have a lot to sort out and apologise for the inconvenience this will cause. If we can help you with arrangements in the meantime, please let us know. Thank you again for your stewardship of our land, it has been appreciated.

With Regards,
John and David.’

Their words cut like a knife as I read, tears pooling in my eyes which I was powerless to prevent, my mouth dried in disbelief. Frozen, like a stone statue in shock, my phone fell from my hand and I was still, for what felt like hours. A thousand thoughts rushed to and began whirring around my head, what will I tell my clients? What will they think? Where will the horses go? What will I do now? As my thoughts reached their climax, with no room for any more, I pulled my knees up to my chest, collapsed my head in defeat and sobbed in surrender, letting the inevitable tears flow down my cheeks.

I had devoted the past five years of my life to that stable yard, turning it from a rundown, ramshackle block of dilapidated stables and unkempt, barren fields, into a bustling haven of happy horses, their owners and a thriving business. Running a livery yard was a childhood dream of mine and horses have been my whole life, but now what? Without the yard, how would I afford to live? To pay rent for this place, let alone now having to find and finance somewhere to keep Joe, my own horse… Heat rushed to my face, turning my cheeks rosy. The feelings of despair and anxiety creeping in were causing me to spiral. Breathe, I told myself, just breathe.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in, pausing and letting the wave of calm wash over me, soothing the chaos, even if just momentarily, before breathing out once again. Eyes open.

Retrieving my fallen phone from the depths of the sofa, I re-opened Instagram, headed to my account’s inbox and searched for Sasha. Opening the chat and revealing a long thread of messages back and forth, I began frantically typing…

‘Sash, you won’t believe it. I don’t know what to do, I’ve just been given notice for the stables by my landlords. They’re selling out to developers. I’m losing everything.’

Delivered.

I set the phone down on the wooden coffee table in front of the sofa and shuffled to the kitchen, flicking down the switch on the kettle. News like this calls for a fresh cup of tea, I’d let the last one go cold. Moments later, my daydream of nothingness was abruptly interrupted by the climactic bubble of the boiling water and click of the kettle. In a daze, I poured water into the mug, over the teabag before adding a splash of milk and letting it brew for a moment. Picking up the tab attached to the string on the teabag, I dipped it a few times, swirling it around before feeling satisfied it was ready, transferring the ‘done with’ teabag to the compost bin. A quick stir with a spoon and the magical elixir was ready.

It was some hours before my phone pinged with Sasha’s response. My day had been spent binge-watching Heartland on Netflix, a series I’d devoured more than once, and undoubtedly my go-to when in need of a pick me up, save for Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron my absolute guilty pleasure, but I’d concluded I was too fragile emotionally for that today. Pausing my binge, I opened up the unread Instagram message from Sasha which read:

‘Hey gal, don’t panic. We’ve got this. Video call?’

‘Sure thing, call me.’ I instantly typed back in response.

Five minutes later, my phone rang with an Instagram video call request. Upon answering, I was relieved to be greeted by a smiling auburn haired Sasha, with an empathetic look in her eye. “Talk to me honey.” Sasha instructed, a mid-western American accent ringing out from the speaker’s of my phone.

Fighting back the tears that were beginning to pool in my eyes at the reassuring sight of my friend, I began to unravel.

“I just can’t believe it Sash, I don’t know what to do,” I began, talking into the phone. “I feel lost all over again, it feels like everything is imploding, just like last year and I can’t go back there again. Things were getting better finally, and now this.”

“First up,” Sasha chimes in with her accent, making it hard to curb the tears, “you’re a strong ass woman Ells, you’ll get through this. Alright, it ain’t ideal, but maybe it’s an opportunity to pivot? Rethink your life plan? The universe is throwing you a curveball. Try and reframe it as an opportunity.” Sasha’s freckled skin shimmered like glitter in the brightness of the morning even through the pixelated screen. She was wearing a fawn coloured cowboy hat atop her long copper coloured hair, tamed in a messy plait falling down past her right shoulder. Despite its practical purpose, she looked sexy, in a wild and assured kinda way that a woman can appreciate of her fellow friend.

She was happy, it radiated through the screen, across the miles. She leant on the timber round pen fence, giving her the ability to hold the phone and frame the call. In the background, I could make out the charming timber lodge, complete with its idyllic veranda which Sasha called home in the wilds of Montana with her husband, Colby.

The pair had been married just over a year and had met when they were teenagers whilst Colby was working a season as a wrangler for a local Dude Ranch in the Yellowstone National Park. Sasha had been taking a break from her city life and graduate job as a consultant for one of these ‘copy and paste’ marketing agencies. She had told me she needed a change of pace, a new perspective and so booked herself a five-day cowboy experience, unbeknown to her, at the ranch Colby happened to be heading up the trail rides for. It was a whirlwind romance, instant attraction, you know, the sort of love you read about? Well… they were lucky enough to find it. She quit her job on the fourth day during an after hours trail ride come date, that Colby had sweetly arranged. Now, they live together overseeing a private horse ranch just outside of Livingston in Montana, keeping things ticking over for the wealthy family who own it.

The ranch, Sasha had explained during one of our many video calls, is predominantly home to wild mustangs, mustered from the ranges which they had freely roamed. These horses are often kept in holding pens once rounded up and captured which is no life for a wild horse, or any horse for that matter. The illustrious owners purchased the ranch to give these horses a home where they can continue to live in peace, despite losing their ultimate freedom. Sasha and Colby maintain the property, tend to the gardens, grow fresh produce, entertain the family and host their guests when they want to visit, which is rarely. They care for the horses too, though as Sasha admitted, this isn’t her forte nor Colby’s, but they need little intervention living life as if they were wild, so it works, for the most part.

Sensing the obvious distress in my voice, Sasha offered a suggestion, “why don’t you come and visit once the yard is wrapped up?”

Sasha and I had been digital friends for the last two years but had never met, after connecting on Instagram. I had reached out after being captivated by the breathtaking content she’d share of her life on the ranch, her photos and videos were, it seemed to me, out of this world. We immediately hit it off and have spoken almost daily ever since.

The occasional horse whinnied in the background of our call as we unpacked the reality of my impending situation.

“A break might do you good? A change of scenery and a change to reset in some place new could help you find perspective and inspiration before you head home to whatever’s next.” My American friend continued eagerly, an encouraging smile forming on her face.

I sat there, staring back at the idyllic backdrop behind her and puzzled over the idea, throwing around what ifs in my mind, Sasha might be right I concluded. “You know what, sure. Let’s do it. I’ll book the flights later.”

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Chapter two.

ELLIE

The weeks went by and I was consumed with the seemingly endless list of things required to wind down the yard. From upset and frustrated clients panicking about finding a new place to move with their horse, to finding a home for the collection of tools and equipment that I’d acquired over the past few years.

The day arrived. Joe, my horse was the only one remaining, all the others had moved on in the days and weeks leading to today. My striking skewbald gelding grazed the now bare paddocks seeming blissfully unaware, as the early spring sunshine warmed his brown and white coat. He was an impressive stamp of a horse, a gorgeous bay gelding standing at 15.3hh with a striking yet endearing bright white snip on his muzzle and one blue eye, the other a deep brown.

The yard felt like a ghost town, all of the life and laughter that once filled the timber stables and outdoor space had fled. Walking Joe in from the fields, across the concrete yard, past the stable block and deserted riding arena for the last time, felt surreal. He followed dutifully, and I loaded him onto the horse box, pulling out of the driveway before stopping to close the double gates behind us.

I paused, as I padlocked the wooden gates I’d installed myself, with the help of loyal and supportive friends over five years ago and looked out across the horseless landscape. This truly was the end of a significant chapter of my life, but, with a deep breath in, I fought back tears and composed myself. I walked towards the cab of the 3.5 tonne horse lorry I’d hired for the move, and climbed in, pulling the door closed behind me before securing my seatbelt and pulling slowly away, unable to keep myself from glancing back in the mirrors. Onto the next.

Liv, a longterm friend of mine had kindly (and conveniently) agreed to let Joe come and stay with her temporarily until I figured out my next move. Knowing that my flight to Montana was the following day, moving Joe was the final step before I could embrace the new adventure.

After a good catch up over a cuppa in the open-plan kitchen with enchanting wall to ceiling views of the horse paddocks, watching whilst Joe and Liv’s horses greeted each other and worked out their herd hierarchy in the fields outside the house, I said my goodbyes and wandered out to steal a last moment of quiet with Joe before whatever antics would ensue tomorrow and in the weeks to follow. He lifted his head up to greet me, with ears pricked and an alert gleam in his rich, round eyes, luscious blades of spring grass sticking out from each corner of his mouth as he chewed contently. I reached up to stroke his forehead, savouring our togetherness, for the uncertainty of the future weighed heavy on my shoulders, though I felt I was doing a good job of not showing it in the presence of others.

The sun had retired once more, replaced with the magical dimpsey hour of the day, dusk fast approaching and the sweeping damp of the spring evening air wrapped itself around us. Bowing my head to meet his, I rested silently against him, snuggling into his soft tuft of forelock momentarily, as he loudly chewed the last remnants of his grassy mouthful. He went to lower his head once more for another bite, blissfully unaware of the significance of the moment. With a pat on the neck, I left him behind.

“Are you sure about this?” Verity, my mother, questioned as we cruised along the motorway towards Heathrow airport the following morning, “you’ve never met Sasha, I know you talk online all the time, but this is a big step. I worry about you darling.”

Looking over at her, I affectionately rolled my eyes, though I heeded her words, this was a little wild… Though too late to turn back now. With a reassuring smile, knowing her words were coming from a place of kindness and maternal instinct, rather than criticism, I assured her, trying to set her mind at ease, “I need to get away mum. I need a new perspective, to look at life through a different lens. I feel like I am staring at a crossroads and I don’t know which path to go down next, you know?”

With a squeeze of my knee with one hand, her eyes on the road and her other hand fixed on the steering wheel, I knew that in that moment of silent acknowledgement she respected my struggles and my reasons. Perhaps she didn’t understand them, but that was ok, we live different lives with different interests, versions of calm and things that bring us joy. Similarly, the things that caused her anxiety or discomfort, were unlikely to bother me, and the things I worried over wouldn’t affect her in the same way because we were different. I’d come to learn as I navigated my twenties, that that was fine too.

Once I made my way through Security and into the slower buzz of Departures, my video call to Sasha was interrupted by the announcement of my flight’s Boarding Call, “see you on the other side, safe flight Ells,” Sasha chimed, “I’ll be waiting!” Colby leaned in with a friendly smile and a cheers gesture holding a longneck bottle of beer, before turning to kiss his wife on the cheek as Sasha hung up the call.

I made my way to the Boarding Desk and handed over the outbound ticket, nerves were beginning to kick in. I made my way down the long connecting tunnel towards the plane. Finding my seat, I sat down and settled into the flight.

The connecting flight from Denver to Bozeman, Yellowstone International Airport was much smaller and only a 1 hour 20 minute flight, I was almost there. Quickly connecting to the airport’s WIFI as I awaited another Boarding Call, I sent a quick update to the family WhatsApp group, before typing an updated ETA to Sasha, her response: ‘Can’t wait girl, I’ll be there! Amazing that this is happening.’

Eventually, the enormous jet plane rumbled to the ground with a jolt and intense speed before taxiing down the runway and coming to a stop. At Arrivals I scoured the sea of people waiting for loved ones or colleagues, and then I spotted a handwritten sign held proudly by a beaming Sasha which read: ‘English Ellie’. She was waving it around enthusiastically as she too searched for her friend.

“Sash?” I asked playfully, allowing my pitch to raise as I tailed off, knowing full well it was the woman I’d built a virtual rapport with.

“Ellie!” She shrieked excitedly as she ran over towards me, flinging her arms around me before I could even drop my bags to accept the embrace. Once the initial high-pitched elation had feigned, Sasha helped me with my bags through the Arrival’s lounge and out into the open Montana air.

It was refreshing, not in an ‘after almost 20 hours of travel kind of way,’ but in a way which instantly soothed my soul. The weight of the past few months seemed to lift miraculously. The blue sky above was vibrant, it felt a richer, more intense blue than back home somehow. Mountains were still capped with snow way up at their peaks and the new, unfamiliar smell of the early spring Montana country air was invigorating.

Sasha was just as I had imagined, and although following someone online, seeing their photos and video content daily paints a pretty accurate picture, their essence in person is impossible to truly portray through a screen.

To greet me, she wore flared dark denim jeans, a copper coloured vest top which complimented her now free flowing untamed auburn hair and a striking brown leather belt with intricate floral detailing and a silver belt buckle adorned with turquoise stones, complete with a light, slightly oversized mustard coloured Carhartt canvas jacket, which I wondered whether she’d commandeered from her husband. On her feet, she wore pointed, well-worn and faded dusty brown leather cowboy boots, poking out from beneath her flared jeans, she looked the epitome of authentic western style, I thought with a soft smile.

By the time the two of us had reached the enormous, deep forrest green American Ford F-150 truck, shining in the late afternoon sun, it felt as if we’d known each other for years. Sasha’s whimsical western American accent instantly put any cautions in my mind at ease.

The truck however was like nothing I’d ever seen on English roads, though by American standards it was nothing overly lavish. It was a work horse, obvious by the ranch’s unique brand mark stamped in white on the side of the driver and passenger doors, it’s off-road tyres and flecks of dirt kicked up onto the door panels from the wheel arches.

As we cruised through the outskirts of the bustling city of Bozeman and out into the wilds of Montana, the hustle of the city fell away as we drove out towards Paradise Valley on U.S Route 89. Before long, Sasha turned off, taking us down a dirt track, weaving its way up and climbing away from civilisation, the sound of loose gravel tinking the underside of the truck as the tyres kicked up an earthy cloud of dust, the smell of which crept through the vents into the car. Even the smell of the dirt cloud was intoxicating to me.

“You’re pretty quiet, you alright?” A well accustomed Sasha asked, a rhythmic cadence to her voice, her stylish sunglasses tackling the glow of the lowering April sun.

I felt thoroughly like a tourist and had been mesmerised by the scenic drive with breathtaking views at almost every turn. “Just soaking it all up,” I replied, and was met with a satisfied smile from Sasha.

In the distance, amidst the swelling cloud of dry earth I was beginning to make out the looming timber ranch entrance; a large carved wooden sign now blocking out the sun’s glare, hung down below, central to the enormous, wide overhanging beam, on short cast iron chains at either end, it read: Paradise Ridge.

The afternoon sun had now been eclipsed by a thick row of towering Ponderosa pine trees, Montana’s state tree, lining either side of the road. The landscape was lost to the forrest behind us now, as we continued to rumble on meandering further into the valley, until the track opened up to reveal what appeared to be an elongated driveway with horses peacefully grazing in charming, immaculate timber fenced post and rail paddocks on both sides. Apart from an occasional tail swish and foot stamp to ward off evening flies, the horses were still, content. The paddocks went on for what seemed like miles, bordered by rolling grass-covered hills and flanked by impressive mountain ranges, the summits of which were
snow-kissed. This was like something out of Heartland or Yellowstone… Perhaps this world really did exist?

After what seemed like an endless approach, we reached a spectacular homestead. The expansive single story, timber lodge was striking with its U shape design, combining classic ranch aesthetics with huge, modern, contemporary glass panel windows fusing the outside views with the home and its interior. A huge stone chimney protruded proudly, incorporated into the side of the house, a focal point of the property. The front of the building looked out onto the paddocks and driveway from which we’d just travelled down.

As the dust cloud settled, I glanced in my wing mirror to find a sprawling landscape of mountain range silhouettes in the distance and endless sky.

At the head of the drive, was a large circular, roundabout-esque landscaped grass centre piece, meticulously mown and picture perfect with a border of enchanting purple aster and vibrant yellow blanketflowers, which Sasha informed me were indigenous to the landscape, adopting the role of tour guide.

The truck followed the driveway around past the front of the house without stopping, peeled off to the right and trailed around the side of the impressive building.

Ahead to our left, was a thick copse of more towering pine trees. Through the trees I could make out a much smaller, rustic looking timber cabin nestled in a small clearing amongst the sea of deep velvet green Ponderosa. Anticipating our stop, I shuffled in my seat leaning forward to grab my rucksack and gather my things, before being interrupted by my driver, “hold up girl, this ain’t our stop, we’re a little further.”

That’s right, this didn’t look like the home I’d often seen in the background when video calling with her. Their home always appeared so inviting and open with its sweeping wrap around porch and fresh, cared-for look. Passing the tired, empty looking cabin amidst the pines, we followed the driveway further still as it swept around another bend, weaving through expansive horse-filled paddocks on either side once more.

Ahead I spotted an idyllic classic American barn, painted in a clean, fresh white, rather than the stereotypical American red, creating a stark contrast set against the fauna-rich muted green backdrop. The A-framed timber barn featured huge, wide-open double entrance doors, complete with the ranch’s brand mark painted central above them, in the same green as the truck. To the left of the barn was an impressive thick, wooden panelled round pen, four, maybe five rows of timber high, and to the right was the house I’d seen in the background of our calls, so many times before. Set back against the tree line, it looked beautiful even through a pixelated video call, but now, in person, it was mesmerising.

As the truck began to slow to a crawl on approach, I looked out of the window into the paddock beside me, these were smaller than the ones we’d passed earlier, with what looked like young horses in, a mixture of bays and deep chestnuts, all with their heads down happily grazing the short, sprouting spring grass. It was mid-April here now, their coats still thick and fluffy from the biting Montana winter.

Sasha swung the dutiful work-horse around the front of the barn before reaching a stop in front of their home. “Home sweet home,” she announced sweetly in a sing-song tone as she yanked up the hand break and leant forward to turn the key in the ignition, silencing the humming diesel engine.

The truck doors opened with a creak as we each stepped out. Greeted by the soft, low whicker of the nearby horses and the cool early evening air, I looked around taking in the view of what would be my home for the next month. The entire drive up to the ranch and house boasted views unlike any I’d ever seen, but this, this little haven nestled behind the main house, in its own private hollow was truly breathtaking.

My solitary admiration was interrupted by the sound of a man’s voice calling out, “Sash!”, prompting her to spin around gleefully as her husband emerged from the barn, carrying a hay bale in his hands, the baling twine stretching in his grasp, the muscles in his arms defined as his fingers wrapped around the taught string. “Ells, you made it!” Colby flung the hay bale to the ground beside him, effortlessly, before eagerly making his way over towards the two women now standing before him. Sasha skipped over to meet him, greeting him with a passionate, lingering embrace and a sweet kiss on the cheek. Once he was released from his wife’s arms, he removed the well worn baseball cap he’d been wearing and swept back his hair, damp with sweat from physical graft, before replacing it, but backwards this time. The muscles in his arm flexing in the process, it was impossible for me not to notice.

Colby’s face was dirty with dust, his grey t-shirt the same. He wore light denim bootcut style jeans, a brown leather belt with a large brass belt buckle which was catching the low rays of the setting sun. His boots were scuffed and coated in dust too, like Sasha’s. He must be about 6ft 3” and he looked to me, like a real man’s man. I think I blushed.

Leaning forward, he kissed Sasha’s forehead affectionately, stroking the back of her head in a sweepingly smooth move as he reached in. He gently stepped aside and looked over at me, who was now, I’m sure looking slightly awkward, standing a pace or so behind his wife. He brushed his hands off on his dirt stained jeans in a chivalrous attempt to remove any sweat or dirt before opening his arms wide to me, signalling a welcoming embrace. Following his cue, I surrendered into him, his biceps securely wrapping me in his arms, locking me in. Sasha flashed me a cheeky, knowing grin. She knew her husband was hot. The smell of sweat, of man and of horse mixed with aftershave was a heady cocktail. Was this what Montana men were like?

“It’s so awesome to finally meet you,” Colby began to say in his mid-western accent, squeezing my shoulders together in his arms in support of his sentiment, before stepping back to release me, “how was your trip?”

“You too, I’ve heard lots about you from Sash.” I replied honestly, winking at my friend who had by this point come over to place a doting hand on her husband’s shoulder. “The trip was long, but the flights were all good, I can’t complain,” I began, “it all just feels so surreal, like I can’t believe I am actually here! I’ve only seen your house in the background of our video calls and in photos, but it’s way more beautiful in reality guys. You’re so lucky.” I complimented the adoring married couple.

“All good things I hope?” Colby asked me with a playful smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know babe?” Sasha joins in, “come on in Ells, the journey must be catching up to you.”

With an agreeing laugh, I replied, “yeah, I’ll admit, I am starting to feel a little tired, I think the adrenalin is wearing off.” The three of us made our way across the yard, carpeted in dust, over towards the house.

Woken from my nap by the smell of dinner cooking and the muffled sound of conversation, I climbed out of bed, rubbing my weary eyes and brushed my wild looking, long brunette mane out of my face. The United Kingdom is seven hours ahead of Montana, and the jet lag was setting in. After a quick shower to freshen up, I hauled on some leggings, my trustee oversized khaki jumper and with a deep breath in to muster up the energy for socialising, I headed out in pursuit of the delicious aromas wafting through the cabin style house.

Sasha handed me a cold beer fresh from the fridge, which I accepted, though I did confess, I am not a beer drinker. Back home, my drink of choice would be a refreshing gin and tonic or a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, beer was never my go-to, in fact I actively avoided it.

Shocked, Sasha chimed as she signalled a cheers along with a playful wink, “well we gotta get you to drink beer now you’re in the Wild West!”

With a clink of bottles, I bravely took a swig. Surprisingly, the liquor was much lighter and less hoppy than the British beers I’d tasted before. Maybe I could get on board with this? “I’ve got a month to get used to it. Who knows, maybe I’ll leave liking this stuff…” I joked, taking another swig, my nose wrinkling in response as I swallowed.

The remainder of the evening was spent drinking, eating home cooked food and getting to know one another, it was wholesome. As we began clearing up and getting ready to turn in for the night, I thanked my hosts for dinner and politely excused myself, explaining that I wanted to grab some fresh air before heading to bed.

“You might want a blanket babe, it can be cold out at night still. Here, I’ll grab you one.” Sasha explained, before heading off to find me a blanket.

Equipped, I opened the front door, stepped across the timber veranda with a clonk, clonk of my own Ariat boots as my footsteps echoed on the wood, and sat down on the top of the porch steps. Sasha was right, the brisk night air clung to me, so I wrapped myself up in the soft, oversized throw, pulling it close and clinging to its edges. I dropped a quick update to the family WhatsApp group, letting them know I had arrived safely before tucking my phone away. I was pleasantly surprised signal was so strong out here, though perhaps it was due to the lack of interference and infrastructure. I’d fully expected to be cut off from the world.

Looking out down the dirt track leading up to the house and barn, I noticed how the moon illuminated the earth and kissed the tops of the pine trees where the lonesome cabin we’d passed earlier was hidden amongst. I was in awe. Many of the horses remained out, grazing peacefully in silence, their silhouettes visible through the lunar light.

The raw, natural beauty of this place and of this life that Sasha and Colby seemed to live was evocative of a wave of emotions. This place, this life, really was a world apart from my own back in the UK. Paradise Ridge nestled within the scenic Paradise Valley, made home feel like a bustling city in comparison. At night, you’d often hear cars whooshing over the tarmac nearby, you might hear someone shouting indistinctly somewhere, a dog barking, caterwauling felines or a fox calling, but here, there’s nothing. The silence is grounding and yet all consuming. The night sky was surreal, like that out of a photograph. There was zero light pollution out here, except for the warm glow radiating out from the cabin behind me.

I sat back for a moment and looked up towards the star scattered sky above, closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath in. Was this a good idea? What if I’m just stalling? This isn’t your life, my inner voice conjured, tormenting me. I concluded that these were questions for another day, that for now I was going to enjoy this experience, whatever it brought. I needed a break, a chance to reset, that’s what this holiday was about after all. No worries, no pressures, just fun and harmless escapism. With my inner conflict resolved for now, or rather, at bay, I opened my eyes and headed back indoors and to bed.

I hope you enjoyed these chapters. Order a copy of A Search of Kinds here.

It’s a funny thing as a creative, writer’s block and that search for inspiration and motivation. Trying to write without it is almost like trying to write with paper and nothing to write with, or a laptop and no keys. It was upon reading ‘s post from the 17th of November that I felt inspired, I felt ready and I wanted to write. So thank you Rachel.

I’ve been busy. Haven’t we all. I’ve been busy in ways that have drawn me away from my writing, from my phone and laptop. Busy in healing ways, in the ways in which foundations are built and busy in ways that pull my attention away from the digital world and more firmly rooted into the natural, my world, which is filled with animals including one unexpected new addition who was in need of my care and attention.

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Those of you who follow along with my little life over on Instagram will likely remember the little scrawny foal who climbed over the fence and into my life last August (2024). I gave him a name (Timone), a home, a place to grow, to feel safe, loved and above all else to eat and be kept warm as he found his feet. Much the same has occurred with my newbie, though it was an attempted climb that caught my eye, and captured my heart.

The blue-eyed boy; Kovu (yes I’ve continued the Lion King theme, my pride now consists of: Simba, Nala, Timone ((in his new home)), Pumba )(the yard cat)) and Kovu), has been with me for just coming up three months. And you can see from the photos just how much care he’s needed in that time.

Not only have I opened my heart and stables to Kovu, but I’d tentatively put Simba - my OG - on loan. This ultimately turned into disaster. In just a few weeks he became a shell of himself and got acorn poisoning. I brought him home that same day. Now, almost two months on, he is also feeling (and looking) much better.

When speaking to my friend about how I’ve been wanting to get back to writing, I just felt such resistance to it, she reminded me of all that has gone on in the last few months and suddenly the resistance and the lack of desire and energy to sit down like this and write made much more sense.

When I launched this Substack, I wrote, - “Join me as I commit to creating a more aligned life as I head into my late-20s.” Well, those late 20s have certainly been a journey, the path of which has not been linear, though I do feel as though I’m living in a way which is much more aligned with who I’m becoming. A huge part of that has been investing in Nala (GI Guns for Dollars), my American Quarter Horse and embracing the western way of riding and horsemanship. We’ve had a slow year but in recent months we’ve really made progress under saddle with our first lesson with a trainer. The next is booked for Wednesday! I knew when I decided that I seriously wanted to pursue western, that I’d need to compromise on the horse due to my budget. Many of the trained AQHs in the UK are between £15-20,000 and there was no way I could afford that. So, when I stumbled across Nala, I knew it would be a from the ground up journey and would take time, though aren’t those the kinds of things that are most rewarding? Her price reflected her experience, she had none. She had the breeding and the looks, but she had only been backed (by a polo player) and turned away and thus had never done any western. Neither had I. So, we’d be learning together, going in blind, figuring it out as we go. A year on, we’re making progress.

Personally and in my ‘professional’ life, I’ve stumbled off of the dirt track, lost all sense of direction, circled back, clambered over fallen trees blocking my path and when the path ahead stopped, I’ve carved a new one. Now, as I enter the last few weeks of my 20s, I am filled with optimism for not only the days and year ahead but the decade. 30s felt like a storm cloud looming for much of my late 20s, but this past six months or so, that’s all changed.

I was this close to giving up my yard only a few months ago, I had someone lined up to take over, I’d put my horse on loan and I felt sure I was done. It took days off and a lot of introspection to realise I wasn’t, and I am so glad I didn’t.

It’s been hard work mentally and physically to change things around, and I’m not done yet but, I’m getting there. Re-joining you all here is a step I’d been working up to, and today, thanks to a final nudge from Rachel in the right direction - here I am.

I love the optimism December brings, perhaps my birthday being January 1st compounds that sense of newness, of renewed passion and energy to move towards forming new plans and ideas, to explore how to achieve them and what I hope the next year will look like. How about you? Do you find yourself forward thinking at this time of the year? Is December a time for reflection?

Also, a little moment of appreciation for you all, I reached 100 subscribers recently which whilst the small milestone passed silently and without celebration, I am grateful that so many of you have chosen to sign up to receive my ramblings. I hope to ramble to you again soon. I’ll aim for before I hit 30.

I’ve written recently about emotional burnout, about slowing down and taking stock and about change and listening to yourself, and whilst I connect with each topic, as the speeding train of life rattles on down its track, it feels impossible to get off once you’re hurtling ahead at speed. In offering me those few days, Kat created a station for my train to call in at, allowing me to safely disembark, walk around and take in the sights.

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After a LOT of rest, I managed to chip away at my longggg to-do list, things that might only take a few minutes of my time, but under what have been my ‘normal’ circumstances, felt impossible to complete or even consider starting… I JUST DON’T HAVE TIME.

And it is that, that is a phenomenon in itself. Time is a construct. Our control of our life, is in our mind. By me telling myself, repeatedly from a state of stress, ‘I don’t have time,’ I have done just that, told myself that I don’t have it and so mentally, there’s no time left to achieve those things.

It’s funny, as a child, you often resent the constant rules, the instruction, the guidance and long for the perceived freedom that comes with being an adult. Though, come 17/18 (ironically, probably the time you really need that guidance most), you’re released into the world and told to just ‘figure it out’.

I’ve been reading The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins and last night, two passages caught my attention. She writes, “when you’re an adult, your life, your happiness, health, healing, social life, friendships, boundaries, needs and success are all your responsibility. If you’ve been secretly hoping someone else would come and rescue you, fix your problems, pay your bills, create a social life, heal your wounds, change into your dream partner, and motivate you to be your best… it’s not going to happen. No one is coming. And any time you spend blaming other people, or waiting for permission or an invitation, is wasted. Those days are over. It’s time to take full responsibility for your happiness, your dreams and your life. After all, responsibility is simply the ability to respond.”

This spoke to me, in many ways, I worry I annoy my friends and family with my constant indecision, changing my mind on my plans whether that’s to do with my business or my own life plans, but the truth is, I am constantly trying. Trying to figure out the right path, the right choice, the right way forward… and I have been guilty of wishing that someone would come along and steer the ship in the right direction, magically carve out the ultimate track route for my train to hurtle down. But, as Mel says, they’re not coming. The ONLY person that can do that for me, is me.

Did you know?

7 out of 10 people are currently living in a chronic state of stress.

And, Mel writes, “according to Dr. Aditi, stress causes you to doubt yourself, procrastinate, burn out, doom scroll and struggle with comparison. She also told me that if your inner critic is louder than ever, you’re struggling with procrastination, you’re constantly tired, you can’t stop scrolling on your phone, or you have trouble disconnecting from work, it’s all due to stress.”

I felt seen, and heard. I have long recognised I don’t handle stress overly well, though what perhaps I hadn’t realised is how long I’ve been handling stress… and the reality is harsh, but, not very well.

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My second book had stalled, my yard was looking a mess, my stunning horses weren’t being ridden and my to-do list of what should be simple tasks was representing more of one of those comedic endlessly unraveling scrolls. I’d been living in chronic stress, without realising.

I met someone last week who introduced me to the idea of syncronicitys. The idea that observing seemingly coincidental events, instances, things that all lack any ‘discernible causal connection’ to a person’s life, have in fact a link to you and the path meant for you. Some will roll their eyes at this - *I see you Dad* - but I choose to believe in it’s truth. I’ve long believed in fate, my yard is proof to me of that.

The few days I’ve recently had, have given me a chance to stop an see myself, to realise the stress I have been living with and to decisively choose to reset. To get my metaphorical ducks in a row and to even upload some clothes to Vinted annnnnd make progress on the follow up to my first book, A Search of Kinds.

Seems easy enough for me to type, and to inadvertently advise you, but to put into practice will likely be harder. Though, I am committed to taking the steps I need to build the life I want: the first, find someone to help me on the yard so I can free up time to not only be creative (and finish Book 2!!), but to check in with myself.

If any of this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join me here on Substack. We can help each other move forward intentionally.

Looking up at the unending sky above me, its blue tinged with the golden glow of the lowering evening sun, I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in, pausing and letting a wave of calm wash over me amidst the chaos, before breathing out once again. Time slowed, I was detached for a fleeting moment. Eyes open.

As I watched on from the ridge above, down in the valley below, the horses galloped on, kicking up weightless, copper red Montana dirt, disappearing into the fall air with each dramatic, rhythmical stride. The sound of thundering hooves of not one, but thirty horses is enough to humble even the hardest of men.

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I leant forward now, resting my forearms against the horn of my saddle, lariat draped over it, letting my reins rest on Roscoe’s neck. I feel the herd’s thunderous strides vibrate in my chest, like an amplified bass as they flew into their rich new meadow paddock lining the flowing Yellowstone River bordered by the now rich, auburn fall foliage of the cottonwood and aspen trees amongst the ever velvet green of the lodgepole pines standing tall and proud, along the riverbank. The long, untamed, wild manes of the horses flowing with every stride was a captivating sea of power and unbridled beauty.

A wave of freedom floods me, I feel connected to them, and to the natural world surrounding me. Overcome with the beat of their hooves, my own heartbeat quickens in unison, it’s exhilarating. Tears swell in my eyes but do not flow and gratitude for this life washes over me. How lucky I am to live this life. Paradise Valley seems to be a mighty fine place to call home.

There’s a light breeze in the air, the subtle smell of fall too, with birds communicating their songs somewhere nearby. The herd circles around, bays, blacks, buckskins, sorrels and a couple of paints, with tails swishing, before the thundering of hooves slow, not without a buck and squeal from a few of the younger horses followed by dragon-like snorts in response to the thrill. Bodies calm, and heads begin to lower towards the luscious wild-rye and wheatgrass.

The dust from their commotion travels in a cloud up towards the ridge where my horse Roscoe and I are stationed. Its earthy smell mixed with the sweet sugary scent of horse, the lupine and meadow grass and rich leather of my tack soothes my soul as the cool air’s promise of the night ahead touches my skin. The sun retreated behind the range for another day, and as it did, I tipped my cowboy hat to the band below, all were accounted for. Soaking up the view, I indulged in cherishing one more fleeting moment before turning to take the trail back to the ranch.

We make it back just before dark, the golden sun now replaced by a glowing milky moon accompanied by a scattering of stars. The warmth of the day chased away by the crisp bite of the intermontane night air. The bird’s song had softened, replaced by the rustling of the nocturnal creatures. Reaching the stable barn, I untacked a dutiful Roscoe, sliding my heavy western saddle off his back and hauling it up onto the timber rack in the barn. I peeled off his leather headstall, letting the bit fall from his mouth gently as he replaced it with an eager mouthful of hay. Flicking him over with a brush, followed by a sweeping stroke of my palm, I put down his dinner before closing the stable door behind me for the night.

Placing my black Stetson down on the aged timber table beside the saddle rack, I ran my hands through my hair, wild and greasy with sweat from a day’s mustering and moving horses in the late-summer heat. With a stress alleviating, hectic rub to reorganise the mop that resides on my head, before sweeping it back and away from my face in an attempt to rid any hat hair issues. From the mini-fridge beneath the table I grabbed a cold beer, twisted off the cap and took a well earned swig. I had agreed to help out Rick for the weekend down here in Paradise Valley, before heading off travelling for the winter months. My folks weren’t best pleased about it,but the appeal of chasing the summer was too great, besides they’d be fine heading things up back home.

Beer in hand, I headed to the open barn doors, towering above me, cowboy hat in hand. I leant against one side of the double doors, my right booted foot, crossed over my left at the ankle. I placed my hat comfortably back on my head, before looking out and up into the vast, still night sky. Taking another refreshing sip of the good stuff, I wondered to myself, where is she?

To order a copy of A Search of Kinds or read the free ebook version, click here.

“What a great read, I'm so invested in this story and I'm waiting with baited breath for the next one. Really well written with a great balance of romance, cowboys and all things Western which is right up my street. All I will say is there isnt much to think about, Montana v UK, easy decision in my eyes. What's more getting back into reading such a great book at night made me stop the doom scrolling social media 😉.” - Holli, Amazon customer review.

In my experience, this kind of burnout creeps up on it’s victim, in much the same way as it’s more common relative. However, this burnout is different, in my opinion, and experience, it sucks your very essence from you in a way that physical burnout doesn’t and you don’t even realise it’s happening until your cup overspills. Which is what happened to me just recently.

I’ve learnt over the years of running and producing my printed magazine In The Country singlehandedly, that I do not handle stress well. I got burnt out more than once over those years, but that was physical. I was doing five or six people’s jobs myself, the result was that none of them were done to the best of my ability, not truly. What I did achieve was still pretty darn amazing, I know that, but if I’d have had help, my goodness it could have been limitlessly better, but finances always stood in my way, and that’s ok. I had to learn through failing that I can’t do it all, and to protect myself in that.

The emotional burnout came much later, only recently in fact and I’d say, still, I don’t have both feet firmly rooted on the ground of the ‘other side’ - yet. But I am making progress.

This type of burnout is crippling, it’s more dangerous than it’s relative I feel because it makes you question EVERYTHING about yourself. I almost gave up my childhood dream as a result, my literal dream come true because through the fog I lost sight of my why and my passions: horses and writing.

How did I end up there?

Like all of us who find ourselves under the cloud of emotional burnout, through prolonged people pleasing. I feel empaths are much more susceptible to this than others, we care too deeply, love too hard, hope too much and dream too wild.

I am an empath, and an entrepreneurial creative, a mixture of possibly the most susceptible traits to emotional burnout. I am sure many of you reading this are also empaths, drawn to my writing like moths to a flame because you can relate and it’s soul soothing to feel seen.

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Have you ever experienced emotional burnout? Are you experiencing it now?

It took walking around my yard - with the person I was negotiating handing it all too - to realise this was, and is my dream come true. It was as if I was snapped back awake by a hypnotist, the fog cleared and I saw how emotionally exhausted I’d become. I didn’t know how I got here, when the spiral downwards started, but slowly I began to unpick and retrace my steps, identifying the when, how and whys.

The universe has a funny way of weaving her magic, because shortly after that, we couldn’t reach an agreement about the yard which worked for us both and that we were both happy with, meaning I’d stay on. But with that and my new clarity, I knew now, things would have to change to avoid the burnout creeping back up on me and consuming.

The place I’d longed for since a little girl had become somewhere I dreaded being, somewhere I did the bare minimum I could before leaving until the following day. But I couldn’t see it, until I did. Luckily before it was too late.

Now I know that’s where I’ve been (emotionally burnt out), I am making progress towards fixing the things burnout has effected. Some are quicker fixes than others and that’s ok. One thing I am doing after seeing dozens of recommendations, is reading Mel Robbin’s book; The LET THEM Theory. And, if any of this resonates with you, I’d encourage you to as well. It’s available as an audiobook too, if that works better for you.

And, if you fancy a little escapism, a chance to slip away into another world whilst you heal and rebalance from burnout - emotional or physical - my own book, A Search of Kinds can offer you just that in the form of a western holiday romance.

So, emotional vs physical burnout. Whilst it gets less air time for sure, it certainly does still pack on hell of a punch - this one might be wearing knuckle dusters!

The Wild In Me will be a free to read publication for the foreseeable future. I will make all posts available for readers, however, I am putting more energy into building my writing career and am working on bringing some exciting things to this Substack and to you over the coming months. So, with that said, if you’d like to show your support for my writing, it’d be hugely appreciated.

I’ve always been someone with a wild imagination, often exploring the world and different potential lives in my own head, and as a little girl I loved writing short stories, often about ponies.

I’ve been asked a few times now where the idea for A Search of Kinds - my western romance novel - came from, and honestly, it just kind of appeared out of nowhere. One day it was there, in my head and I couldn’t shake it. Over my almost thirty years, I’ve learnt that if an idea sticks around in my head, or keeps coming back, it is worth exploring, if it is fleeting, it isn’t worth delving into and unpacking. But this, it dug it’s heels in, demanding I explore it.

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Those who know me on a personal level (or follow me on Instagram) will likely draw similarities between Ellie (the female main character) and me, in the beginning, as I wrote from what I knew. As a first time author, I hadn’t a clue where to begin, and putting myself in her shoes seemed a workable place to start, though the story and Ellie as a character blossomed, moving away from me. I see her as someone I can relate to, and not myself.

That being said, allowing myself to get lost in their love story was a form of escapism for me, during a time of uncertainty in my own life. As I wrote in the opening pages of my book;

“I wrote this book at a time in my life where I myself was searching for various things.

This is for anyone who has felt like they don’t belong, that their interests, their passions, their dreams don’t fit with what friends, family and society envisage for you. It is for anyone searching for a place to belong, for love, for clarity or to feel seen.”

I found many of those things through the exercise of writing Jackson and Ellie’s love story. In many ways it was a cathartic process, and whilst Book 2 is proving to be less effortless, dipping in and out of their world offers me escapism in a way I otherwise wouldn’t have. Nothing beats the real thing… Montana in reality I am sure is something else, but, it’s also pretty damn spectacular in my mind too, and I hope I can create that for others.

And thanks to some of my reader’s reviews, I think I am achieving it:

Amazon customer review - “The way Holly describes everything throughout the book makes you feel familiar with the characters, the ranch, the horses, basically everything, right from the get go and you become immersed in the story so easily. I feel like I’ve escaped for 24hrs to my own little piece of Montana heaven!”

If you’d like to immerse yourself in their world, you can order a copy of my book A Search of Kinds by clicking here. It is available to purchase and read as a paperback or eBook and is free on Kindle Unlimited I believe.

I once explained to my life coach how I felt as though I was standing at a cross roads, and it was up to me to choose the next steps I’d take. Picking a path would change my future, and at that time, I didn’t know which path to take, I felt as though I was drowning. Now, the path to pick seems clear.

Change is unavoidable, it is constant and it is one thing you can guarantee from life. Every day brings change, the kind outside of our control. From new experiences, new interactions, new opportunities and new thoughts. But how do you know when change is needed, when it is good and should be embraced?

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For me, it is when the thought of change excites you. And yes, not all change is good, or wanted, but in this case, we’re talking a positive directional change, within our control.

Ever felt like you’re reaching the end of the line with something? For me, I know I need to implement change in my life to open myself up to my next chapter.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with a new friend, one who’s connection with took me by surprise. I feel wholeheartedly like I have met my soul sister. That friendship has given me a new perspective and a new drive, one I can’t wait to explore.

Approaching 30 definitely has prompted a shift in my thinking and in my priorities. I’d love to know if it was the same for you, as you approached that milestone (for those of you who are over 30).

And if you’re not yet 30, but are reading this, how did you know you were ready for a change in direction? I’d love to know.

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On Thursday, I’d had a nightmare start to the morning, a morning which of course I’d planned out, would be productive and pleasant. I had planned to ride my horse for the first time in WEEKS, I’d even made up a token breakfast the night before, instead of his full-size usual breakfast, to give him before I fed the others, so that I wouldn’t need to wait so long for it to be safe to ride (usually around 1 hour) and therefor get tacked up and on, earlier.

Life had other plans though, as when I hauled my truck into the driveway, I noticed two of my livery horses had escaped from their fields over night. One wreaked havoc and ate another’s breakfast and a whole packet of horse treats, tipping over everything it possibly could as it went. This meant horses needed catching and fences needed fixing and so, my plans to ride had to go on the back burner.

I was determined to ride though, and so later on in the afternoon after I cleared all the fields, I brought Simba (my horse) in from the field and tacked him up. The yard was quiet, I was the only one there and it was peaceful.

I love the life that liveries bring to the property, I enjoy seeing the busyness of the little yard I’ve created when owners are grooming or tacking up their horses on the yard, but in the rarer moments of quiet when I am there alone, it’s so peaceful.

Simba and I worked in the arena for around 30 minutes, enough to work up a sweat and pick up where we left off. As I cooled him down, walking around the arena on a long rein so he could have a stretch, I realised that this was the dream. Riding my own horse, in my arena. Ok it’s rented, but still.

As a little girl, I wished so hard that one day I’d run this very yard. I’d peer out of my bedroom window and gaze at the horses grazing in the very fields I now manage. In the busyness of everything, of daily life, of caring for and clearing up after all my client’s horses, I forgot, I’m living out that little girl’s dream… my dream.

I often feel deflated that I’m not renting a house of my own, or paying a mortgage and somehow that feels like a failure of sorts, yet, it isn’t. It’s just that my path looks different and I see that now. Yes, I am lucky to be in a position where I can stay at home until then, and I know that there are many that don’t have that same fortune and so I am even more grateful for it.

But in those periods of survival, of monotony and daily life, the gratitude for this is pushed to the back of the mind and instead replaced with, “but you’re not doing this,” or “you should have achieved this by now,” “your friends have places of their own, you' must be doing something wrong.”

It isn’t until I slow down, and step out of that monotonous cycle of survival that I can see the bigger picture. And I bet, if you do the same, you’ll see it too. There’s so much to be grateful for.

So, as I said, take this as your nudge, to slow down. Pause a moment and take stock of what you do have, what you have achieved and the goodness around you.

Until next time… I can’t promise when that’ll be, but for now,

Holly Xxx

In this season of life, you’re busy figuring out what path you want to take and the kind of life you want to craft for yourself, and I can only speak from my own experience, but that is an ongoing process. I’ve long wondered if it’s just me, if I am by nature just indecisive or restless. I look at friends in stable career jobs, renting a place of their own, some even owning their own homes and they just seem to have it together. They seem satisfied with their path. It’s often not until we get onto those deeper topics in conversation that I realise that isn’t always the case. Everyone is constantly changing and learning as they move through life, and in many ways that is the beauty of it, for many of us - the fact that we can do just that.

With that said, my stability and my comfort is my horse yard. It provides me with a stable income (pardon the pun!) and I get to spend my days surrounded by horses… my literal childhood dream! Though it doesn’t challenge my brain in the way it yearns for. Looking after the horses, and the yard work is like second nature to me. I do it daily, without much thought. The physical exercise it provides is great, I don’t think I’ve ever been in better shape, though the mental workout is much less so.

For me, that’s where writing comes in. Writing is a passion of mine, as is horses, just as they both have been since I was a young girl. I’d regularly write short stories at school about horses...

If you’ve read my previous Substack entries, you’ll know I self-published a book back in October of last year. A cowboy holiday romance which, has slowly been gaining reviews, sales and making readers laugh, cry and swoon ever since. But, now here’s the interesting part, once I released it into the world, along with the relaunched Edition of In The Country, I literally couldn’t bring myself to write a single thing more. It was as if those writing muscles were paralysed, unable to move, despite my various unsuccessful attempts.

Truth be told, I’ve struggled to write anything since October. I received heartwarming message after message from readers of A Search of Kinds sharing their excitement for the second book (which I am now making steady progress on), but that, social media posts, anything to do with the magazine and even emails felt impossible. I was written out.

I suppose this is what people refer to as writer’s block? Though, it felt more than that somehow…

I love writing, so I can’t fathom why?

I am unsure where this will go or when I’ll next write a Substack article but I know that I want to do ‘more’ and publishing this, is progress. I have pages of ideas for articles, interview series, book ideas and social content written down, but it’s the doing that is the hard part and the hurdle I need to conquer.

I’m not a lazy person by any stretch. I used to think I was. But, I look after 15 horses daily and poo pick 15 fields daily, walking around 20,000 steps on average. So, why then, is this work so starkly different to do?

I worked with a life coach for some time back in 2022-2024 who helped me to no end. I’ve since reached out to her in what we’d discover to be some crazy universal magic and we’ve a date set for a call. I truly believe, as adults, having a ‘life coach’ or an accountability partner who is not part of your friend circle is invaluable. We go through so many years of educational support, and then we’re effectively let loose as adults, into a world which is far far far more complex than the one we’d been use to with stresses hitting you from every angle. I believe having support through adulthood is just as, if not even more important, but it is something we have to seek for ourselves, it isn’t compulsory like school.

I am also very aware that I’m approaching my final six months of my 20s and whilst it may seem small to some, it is kinda a big deal to me. For the past few years (25-28) I’ve literally dreaded it, for all of it’s connotations and the ingrained feeling of failure or ‘I’m not where I should be’ that is inescapable due to societal expectations and portrayals of how life should be.

With all of that, the impending 3 0 forces you to reflect and evaluate, but now, I feel ready. I’m looking forward to 30 (not my birthday, never my birthday but, this new decade). I am eager to start this new chapter of life and whilst I don’t want to wish away time, I do want to spend the next six months living intentionally. I’ve met some incredible new friends this year, reconnected with others and had some very baffling connections too. I am protective over my time now, I will not waste it or have it wasted.

My mum once told me that there is a shift that occurs in our way of thinking, when we feel ready for that next season of life. We go from feeling like we’re 20 something and coasting, to wanting to settle down and to build. Nesting, on some level perhaps, but it’s true. I’ve felt that shift and I’m ready to enter this new era, I just hope that writing continues to be a prominent part of it.

If you’d like to read my book, A Search of Kinds then you can order a paperback copy or e-book on Amazon, I believe it is free to read on Kindle Unlimited. Book two is underway, and I can say I am enjoying writing the next chapter of Jackson & Ellie’s story…

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Here’s a couple of recent reviews:

“An amazing book with an incredible eye for detail by the author. A fantastic mix of romance and drama with enough steam to make it realistic. Can't wait for the next instalment.” - Tracey

“This was an amazing debut novel in a sub-genre I’ve never before read and will be counting down the days until the second instalment! I was instantly hooked and it felt like such a smooth and easy read, I finished it so quickly and felt both excited and hopeful for the characters. In terms of the writing and pace of the novel, it flowed naturally and I genuinely felt like I was in and experiencing Montana whilst reading it, having never actually been. Would 100% recommend!” - Rosie

“What a great read, I'm so invested in this story and I'm waiting with baited breath for the next one. Really well written with a great balance of romance, cowboys and all things Western which is right up my street. What's more getting back into reading such a great book at night made me stop the doom scrolling social media 😉.” - Holli

If you’ve made it to the end of this ramble, then thank you, and if you enjoyed it and would like to get the next one (I can’t promise when that will be) straight to your inbox, then please consider subscribing to my humble little reader list.

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For those of you who don’t know me from the days of the magazine and have no idea what I am harping on about, I founded In The Country magazine, which I produced quarterly (four times a year) in line with the changing of the seasons, single-handedly.

Recently I have returned to the world of publishing and relaunched the mag with a twist. I’ve journeyed into the world of western here in the UK. My own life has gravitated towards it both in my lifestyle and fashion interests, but also my equestrian interests. I’ve found myself, entirely accidentally of course - acquiring a new horse with the intention of (eventually) competing in the UK western discipline on her, she is an American Quarter Horse with reining breeding.

With the UK’s dedicated western printed magazine - Western Horse Uk, ceasing print earlier in the year, and in fact moving here to Substack, I felt that there was now a gap in the market, as I’d identified all those years ago with the original magazine.

Photo by Holly Holden Photography.

So, why did I bring the magazine back now?

When I first started the original magazine back in 2017, I had little confidence (though a lot of hope), that anyone would even be interested in the magazine. I was taking a huge leap of faith in leaving my stable job to create the magazine. So when the domino effect began after the release of the first magazine, which saw customers sharing their magazine with their followers and friends resulting in them discovering what I was doing and buying a magazine themselves, it is safe to say we were pleasantly surprised.

The magazine and the awareness of it grew over the next four years, with subscribers and returning customers each season. For those of you who are new to my account, I used to create ITC quarterly, in line with the changing of the seasons for 4+ years until I ceased printing in 2021.

Aside from the fact I love stories, whether it is hearing them, writing them or sharing them, receiving lots of DMs or questions in person about whether the magazine could come back, always resonated with me, knowing people missed the magazine and wanted it back.

So, once I’d finished setting up the yard and settled into the life of a livery yard manager, I began thinking about and searching for ways to bring the magazine back to life.

Back when I was working on ITC, I often felt so alone in the struggles as a solo magazine producer. I was writer, designer, sales woman, marketing, logistics, dispatch and everything else associated. It was exhausting and I felt like a hamster running on a wheel, but over lockdown and recent years, I discovered indie-magazines like Shepherdess in New Zealand, Trailblazher in Canada and Montana Woman in the States, all magazines founded by one (or two) women and run often from the kitchen table. Seeing their success and their titles flourish filled me with optimism for the future, I COULD do this. Knowing that there were others creating beautiful story-led, keepsake magazines in the niche and style I wanted to, which were far more like books than mags just fuelled the passion I had already.

Then, when and I connected, her encouragement, cheerleading and belief in what I’d created with ITC and the ideas I now had only inspired me further.

I also spoke regularly with a life and alignment coach who was instrumental in helping me get back into the saddle (pun wholly intended).

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Finally, once I’d decided to bring it back and shared it with the world, seeing all of your positive responses of excitement and support cemented the ‘why’.

Our countryside is full of incredible, interesting and inspiring individuals doing amazing things or having been through and overcome challenging times. Sharing people’s stories via In The Country with country lifestyle enthusiasts which inspire, connect and help others feel seen through the sharing of these stories, in a tangible and beautiful printed publication encouraging people to pause and take time out to read them, is the reason why I bought ITC back.

So the answer in short? I bought In The Country back to life for you and I.

If you aren’t familiar with the magazine, yet I’ve now sparked your intrigue, the newly relaunched Edition is available to purchase through my website. Click here to order a copy of your own to enjoy.

Well, it has been a minute hasn’t it? I think the last time I sat down to pen a Substack for you all was back in FEBRUARY of this year. Since then I think I have barely lifted my foot off the accelerator… until now. The thoughts for the below were already whirling in my head back then, mulling around, but I was trying my hardest to suppress them then and just trudge on. As we are here, I can confirm, that did not work.

I hope the summer has been good to you and you and your loved ones are all well since I last wrote…

Now, almost 10 months on, I am a newly self-published author, I’ve acquired two more horses (one was accidental, I promise!) and I’ve successfully relaunched my magazine, In The Country, but with a new twist - as well as celebrating the country lifestyle, I’ve leant into my own interests and identified a USP in the mag publishing market for something (beautiful) which celebrates the rise in country music’s popularity and with it, the rise in the love for the western lifestyle and horse riding.

For around a year, maybe more, I’d been seriously wanting to get into western riding here in the UK. My love for western was sparked when I was a little girl, spending hours upon hours ‘helping’ at the yard I now run, opposite my (then) family home. There, was a lady with two striking appaloosas, to me looking back she was iconic and the embodiment of western style. I fondly remember clambering up onto bales of hay in her store-stable, sipping a hot chocolate and peering out the stable door into the darkness of the early evening, admiring the western posters she had pinned to the walls.

In classic ‘me’ style, I relaunched the magazine, my book AND picked up my new horse all in the same week, but life’s funny and it all worked out.

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I held a little celebration for both the book and the magazine at Lordington Park in West Sussex (one of my freelance clients). It was a surreal evening celebrating with friends, family and ITC connections near and far, new and long-standing. Here are a few photos of the evening, kindly captured by Tuesday of Fable and Flare.

The new horse is a beautiful 5 year old palomino registered American Quarter Horse (GI Guns For Dollars) who has been backed but for polo, so will be restarted for western. She is proving to be very sweet and willing so far, but it has been many years since I’ve owned a mare of my own and wow - are they different to geldings!?

So, the book… A Search of Kinds, it’s a love story. A western love story. I started writing it at a time where I myself am searching for various things.

It is for anyone that enjoys romances yes, and horses and that western lifestyle, but also the book is undercurrents which I hope shine through the love story. It is not just another ‘smut’ book, yes there is a little bit of spice, but there is a storyline AND it will be (hopefully) one of three.

Taken from the inside pages of the book;

“This, is for anyone who has felt like they don’t belong, that their interests, their passions, their dreams don’t fit with what friends family and society envisage for you. It is for anyone searching for a place to belong, for love, for clarity or to feel seen. For those of you who have found it, congratulations, I hope you can still enjoy the ride and perhaps reflect back on your journey through the words on these pages.”

The magazine has been a success so far and I am already looking forward to the next Edition, I have already begun jotting down story ideas.

What is inside?

Marina Fogle spoke to me about balancing her life as a mother, wife and woman with her horses.

I wanted to highlight a friend’s business which brings country music loving women together through her Hat Bar events, an extension of her own, UK Country Hats, for an evening of country music, yummy food, creativity and western lifestyle, as they decorate their own hat. I was lucky enough to have been invited onto one of the events down in Poole, this was my creation:

I got behind the wheel of the enormous, sexy left-hand-drive GMC 1500 Sierra AT4 to see how it handled UK roads.

Ariat, a brand whom I have had a long-standing relationship with, have collaborated with ITC to offer one lucky reader the chance to win a pair of their stunning cowboy boots worth up to £300.

My co-founder and now lead, curated an exclusive guide to digital detox escapism staycations following my vague brief.

With the festive season approaching, we have a small gift guide which can serve as gift inspiration year round which includes pieces from Hiho Silver, Beth Hicks, LG Leatherworks, Dimpsey Glamping, Kate Simpson Art, The Silver Stable and Nouvelle Habit.

There is honestly so much to shout about within the magazine including thoughtful dog training with Jo Perrott, learning to ride at 40 with Marcela Pomphrey and exploring what our respective and individual roles are as stewards of the countryside.

If you are interested in reading the 150+ pages of the returning In The Country magazine, head to the website to order your copy: www.inthecountrymagazine.com

The whole idea for setting up this Substack was to be able to share my experiences and reflections throughout my own journey to creating a life that felt more aligned with my authentic ‘self’. I wrote in my description of this Substack as I set it up;

“The light at the end of the tunnel, whatever that may look like for you is worth wading around in the dark, wet and cold mud.

I’ll be honest, I am unsure what my light looks like yet, but I know I have to make changes to reach it. I invite you on that journey with me and I hope along the way I may be able to help inspire some of you to take that risk and embrace the uncertainties of change in pursuit of happiness and fulfilment with me.”

I am by no means there yet, but reviving In The Country, writing my novel ‘A Search of Kinds’, setting my sights on learning western and immersing myself in the UK western community are all positive changes I am making on that journey.

Mentally, I am in a much more positive place. I look at life now with optimism and excitement for the future in contrast to the pessimism and feeling lost, which I’d felt previously. Writing, the physicality and regularity of caring for the horses and livery yard, as well as Nellie’s unwavering love and joy most definitely helped me to this point.

I’m still searching, but I am searching from a more aligned place.

How are you? No, really?

I’ll leave you with this quote by Brené Brown, which I included in the opening pages of my book…

“True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are. Owning your story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.”

Fiction, as I’ve been catapulted into adulthood has become less and less appealing, despite my fondness of escapism, maybe it’s because in some corrupt way it seems like wasted time, in comparison to books that offer me some lessons about life and ways to grow my knowledge, skills and perception of the world and myself.

These, are some of those books that have done that for me, and which I hope may do help guide you also.

1. The Rules of Life: A personal code for living a better, happier, more successful kind of life by Richard Templar. This is the very first ‘self-development’ book I read, and so it has to feature first. I picked it up during my late teens at a time where I wasn’t particularly fond of the person I was becoming. This helped to halt my journey down the self-destructive path I was on, and consider an alternative, much better way to approach life and the relationships within it.

2. Saturn Returns: Your cosmic coming of age by Caggie Dunlop. Perhaps the most profound book I’ve buried myself in, and I well and truly did, I couldn’t put it down. I think it took me all of 3-days to read from cover to cover, something I hadn’t done in yeaaaaarrrrsss. I remember my life coach and friend Verena, asking me, ‘how open are you to astrology?’ before she recommended this book to me. I wasn’t sure, was the answer to the question, but I have always been open to new ways of thinking, and so I ordered it. Wow, wow wow. I highly recommend this, whether you’re in your mid-late twenties/early thirties like me, and approaching or going through your first Saturn Returns, or in your mid 50s and experiencing or approaching your second, the concept is enlightening. If you’re open to it.

3. Coffee Self-Talk: 5 minutes a day to start living your magical life by Kirsten Helmstetter. Regardless on your thoughts around manifestation - mine weren’t all that enthusiastic - this book is an easy read, that offers a slightly more subtle approach to the mindset magic. It is quite Americanised, but it’s light. And Kirsten’s approach, when put into practice (though I am not one to say my script out loud but in my head) did reap benefits. If you struggle with the concept of manifestation, this is a softer more down to earth take on it, focused around that desirable morning cuppa, what’s not to love?

4. The Middle Finger Project by Ash Ambirge. A slightly loud book I would say, which for a fairly quiet soul like me was the only minor challenge. Ash’s words of empowerment though, to help you to tackle imposter syndrome and as she puts it, ‘live the unf*ckwithable life you deserve’ was powerful and insightful. Last year, my approach to things changed, I was always the ‘yes sure I can help’ or ‘yes I can be there’ gal. Well, I decided to start identifying and enforcing my boundaries on required occasions and it has led to ultimately a happier, less stressed and chaotic Holly, which is surely a good thing right?

5. Good Vibes Good Life by Vex King. The majority of you will likely have heard of this punchy little book, and I think really it needs little introduction, except to say it is transformational in more ways than one. Often we remember where we we were when experiencing something significant, and I remember reading this book on a solo-road trip to Wales after a pretty devastating and ‘back down to earth with a thud’ break up, after choosing to trust someone I shouldn’t have, though the hopeful romantic in me wanted to. A quality of myself I both love and loathe. After a super early morning start, I made my way to a secluded but popular spot (The Blue Lagoon). I was the only person around, for hours. So, I climbed down the rocks, and settled in a groove which overlooked the lagoon below and the swirling, swooshing tide as it receded slowly, and I let myself get lost within Vex’s teachings.

6. How Are You Really? Living your truth one answer at a time by Jenna Kutcher. I have been a follower of Jenna’s for years now, since very early on in my entrepreneurial journey and before she became a mother. Her’s was the first podcast I listened to, and connected with. I valued her business advice for many years, and still do. So, when she announced she was releasing a book in 2022, I knew I was going to be reading it. It didn’t disappoint. I find some self-development books are almost like a metaphorical hug, (though other’s can make you feel stripped bare, highlighting your vulnerabilities) allowing yourself to consume words of kindness that have a healing and comforting effect. Jenna’s book explores the cultural shift we’re living in and how our priorities surrounding how we want to spend and live out our lives are evolving.

7. The Comfort Zone: create a life you really love with less stress and more flow by Kristen Butler. Another of Verena’s recommendations, and you can see just how ‘worn’ my copy is. It has been picked up put down, stashed in a handbag for a train ride, in an overnight bag and its even accompanied me down the yard hence the mud. Admittedly, I have struggled with this book but not for the reasons you might think. Kristen challenges the popular attitude of, ‘in order to succeed you need to step outside your comfort zone’, instead she talks of how identifying your ‘comfort zone’ can in fact help you to succeed in life and its various endeavours. I struggled because of that popular attitude, and how it’s almost instilled within us at an early age, I found I was almost opposing Kristen’s words at times, causing friction between her words and my thoughts, though isn’t that exactly the point… to challenge our way of thinking with a view to broadening our mind?

8. For the Love of Horses: The Wilson Sisters' Inspiring Journey to Save New Zealand's Wild Horses by Kelly Wilson. I had been inspired by the Wilson Sisters since I first was introduced to them by the girls I was au-pairing in New Zealand. Ever since then I have been captivated by their work taming NZ’s Kaimanawa horses. This book spoke to me on a deeper level, it ignited something within me, a new dream to one day tame a Kaimanawa, for that reason it qualifies as one of the books that have ‘helped me’. I know, it might seem wild to you, and it is, by its very nature. But I can see this dream, I can feel it, smell it and even hear it. It exists, in the future. Their book is an incredible, enchanting story of their own journey and passion for horses.

The small but mighties: lastly, a couple of light reads which are perfect for the spare room, downstairs loo as we have in our house, on your desk or simply on the bookshelf once you’re done with them. They won’t take long to read, but their insights are compelling.

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The sun, the sea and the stars: ancient wisdom as a healing journey by Iulia Bochis an illustrator whose work I’ve connected with on Instagram many times.

Everything you’ll ever need you can find within yourself by Charlotte Freeman author and founder of Momentary Happiness, an account sharing empowering poetry and prints shared regularly on Instagram, where I came across the above book.

I hope you find this little library of book suggestions interesting, and if you’re already on, or looking to embark upon your own journey of self-development and growth, that you may feel inspired to read one or two of these in the future.

Holly xxx

Today marks the start of Freelance Writers Appreciation week, and I cannot believe I am approaching almost a year of working as a freelance writer myself, following a yet another pivot away from the path I thought was going to be for me.

I’ve often worried how others perceive my entrepreneurial journey, anyone who has followed me since back when I ran In The Country Magazine, will know my journey hasn’t been without it’s bumps in the roads, twists and turns, some resembling dramatic hairpin bends rather than sweeping turns.

I have been fortunate, in as much as whilst this has been in the back of my mind it hasn’t been a debilitating experience. Most of us long to be liked, respected and we want to be accepted by our peers and I’m no different when it comes to my position as an entrepreneur in the industries and fields I work within.

Anyone who has experience as an entrepreneur will know, it’s turbulent and it’s unconventional to the conventional amongst us, but it is becoming more widely accepted and appreciated and I have to have faith in that, and myself.

I’ve sometimes felt I’ve made a rod for my own back in as much as I am an entrepreneur through and through. I am not an employee. Yes, I work with businesses in a freelance capacity, often as a writer, but it’s exactly that. I work with them and not for them.

There’s so much to be said on the pros and cons for each, but for me, I couldn’t now compromise on the freedom entrepreneurship provides, both personally and professionally, even if the all important financial stability might not be as guaranteed as it is when you’re employed.

If you’re an entrepreneur who is thinking of a pivot, or perhaps you’re employed but pondering plunging into entrepreneurship, consider this…

There are incredible stories of failure before success, but let’s reframe it… they’re pivots before success. Overnight success is very, very rare and often short-lived. Think founding, failing/pivoting and founding again before success, this pattern seen in successful, established entrepreneurs is one which keeps me feeling optimistic that the break through is around the corner, a corner, maybe not the next one, but A CORNER!

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Here are some stories of pivoting before success:

1. Steven Bartlett - a name famed amongst many younger entrepreneurs today due to his incredible rise to success at a relatively young age, he became a millionaire aged 23. He has spoken out about dropping out of his business management course at Manchester Metropolitan University, stealing food to keep his hunger at bay and of his refusal to give up or give in to wronged societal stereotypes. Whilst his story is less about failures, he founded his first business aged 18, Social Chain which is estimated to be worth around $600 million, he has pivoted to expand his portfolio as an entrepreneur. Now though, his popular and world-leading podcast, Diary of a CEO is one such pivot which has paid off tenfold and is now a successful multi-media business connecting influential individuals all over the world whilst making over a million dollars per year. I am currently reading his latest book: The Diary Of A CEO: The 33 Laws of Business & Life which is proving to be hugely insightful.
   

2. Jeff Bezos - known to many as the founder of Amazon and the second richest man in the world, but Amazon was not an overnight success. Jeff launched zShops an e-commerce platform which was designed to enable any business to sell online which sounds similar to Amazon’s marketplace model today, but it failed miserably. Through this failure, and others within the digital space, Bezos and Amazon were able to learn from their mistakes and create a model that worked in a similar space. Perseverance was key in this story, despite the continued pivots, he kept building and now, Amazon is a global name!
   

3. Richard Branson - a man I hope one day to meet. I read his International Best Seller, Losing My Virginity and was captivated by his story of rebellious determination and grit, he was going to make it! He actually also started his entrepreneurial journey with a magazine, Student in 1966. Now, he has parked paper for planes, ships and space ships! Richard has long had multiple companies, enabling him to lean on other ventures should one fail just like when a flock of birds flew into the engine of Virgin’s only plane during the first test flight. The plane was damaged and in need of repair. Without a working plane Virgin Airlines couldn’t get certified to carry passengers but without certification the budding airline could not generate the money to repair their fledgling plane. With quick, positive and decisive thinking, Branson restructured some of his existing companies, pulling money from these to fix the plane and quickly Virgin Airlines became the soaring success we know today.
   

4. Sarah Pittendrigh - although perhaps not a world-renowned entrepreneur (yet), Sarah’s story of pivoting towards success connected with me the day I heard it. Sarah is an equestrian at heart and lives in rural Northumberland in the idyllic cottage she once lost as a result of bankruptcy. Sarah fought back, dug deep and rummaged for resilience before founding her Simply Bows & Chair Covers business which she later franchised. Since then she has also created her own mindset coaching company, inspired by her own experiences and created to help others, in addition she has launched a podcast Formidable Over Forty and published a book about her entrepreneurial journey. Sarah’s is a story that inspires me each time she pops up on my LinkedIn page, and I’m reminded of when I am doubting my own entrepreneur experience.

Each pivot isn’t without trial, considered effort and reflection first.

I know this blog is only in its very earliest stages, and with that comes so much room for evolution, but my current mindset is world’s apart from the place in which I was when I first took to writing here. And I know, the months will fluctuate, some days and weeks will be lousy and others incredible, but I suppose I just worried that what I had intended to share here, wasn’t currently reflective of where and how I felt.

For the last few weeks, I’ve nervously felt like perhaps I may be starting to (finally) make progress in many areas I had felt stuck in; finances, mindset, freelance work just to name a few. You know the feeling of ‘it’s too good to be true, something is bound to go wrong?’

Yeah, I’ve been suffering with a major case of that!

Though on reflection, I’ve realised that this is exactly why I should be writing to you here. This is normal. It’s representative of life and it’s ups and downs. I recently brought myself a ring, which signified a year since a traumatic event personally, which threw me, and my year off. It was a ring resembling a wave. This, was to remind me, of life’s constant flow of ups and downs, and that regardless, we move through and keep flowing, just like the ocean waves.

Have you ever wished you were less?

Even during these positive weeks, I’ve often wondered, as I have done many times over the past years, and I wonder have you too? Do you ever wish you were less?

Less empathetic?
Less caring?
Less of a people pleaser?
Less eager to help others?
Less creative?
Less ambitious even?

Or particularly in my case, less obsessed with pasta?

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I’ve let my mind runaway with me as afar as, I wish I were less into country music, less into the country lifestyle and even, less into horses. That’s deep huh?

I’ve found myself feeling this way time and time again about one, or a combination of the above. If I were less empathetic and caring, I’d likely not feel so drawn to situations which ultimately end in my own feelings being hurt. If I were less of a people pleaser, I’d likely have more time for myself and a better work-life balance. If I were less eager to help others, again, I’d likely find a combination of all the above.

Don’t get me started on the being less into horses! I’d definitely be better off financially, I could wear ‘nice’ clothes more, and I’d certainly bring less mud and hay home, Mum would prefer that, wouldn’t she? Less into ‘country’ well, that might make finding new friends, or even a partner easier. Gosh that sounds tempting right? No, no no.

If I made myself less of any of the above, I’d strip away the essence of me, of what makes me the Holly, my friends, family, clients etc have come to know. The same would happen to you, if you became ‘less’ of any one thing. We should NEVER lessen ourselves for others. Never.

Perhaps the most crippling I have found is my wish, that sometimes I wish I were less creative, and less ambitious. If I were, I’d likely be much more secure financially stable and ‘further along’ in my younger self’s road map for ‘life’.

I have considered my creativity a curse more than once. I have ideas constantly. They come to me at the most peculiar and inconvenient times, and I am excited by them. I’ve wished I could suppress it countless times. Why can’t I be like some of my friends, or family even? Content in working a job or career they’re passionate in and just being ‘normal’?

What I have come to learn is that the exact of each, that resides in me, makes me who I am. They’re the ingredients of my own magic. As yours are. Try, to never wish you were less anything. Whether you’re and extrovert and loud, or a reserved introvert, you’re a uniquely perfect combination of everything you need to be.

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I know now, for example, that my level of empathy and care for others are gifts unique to me. And whilst my creativity drives me mad at times, it too is a gift. It’s inspired the creation of In The Country Magazine, an independent publication that was loved by thousands of people around the WORLD which saw me recognised by Dragon’s Den’s Theo Paphitis! And now, has led to the co-founding of Countrywoman’s Guide with Emma Warren.

My creativity leads me to jotting down ideas for books in notebooks with plots and characters and chapters hiding in Notes on my phone, ready and waiting. These are all wonderful things I have shared and can share with the world, entertaining, inspiring, educating and connecting with others through the words I write and the stories I tell. Now that’s pretty cool, no?

Life is a journey, of constant learning and discovery and if you’re open to it, you can learn to harness all of your energy in ways which work for you, and that help you achieve what you want to do.

Self development is a journey I have stumbled onto without even realising I don’t think, and I’m no where near done, but I’m learning and I’m evolving.

That said, I’m still not entirely sure what here, will become or focus on, but I hope if you needed to hear this, it reaches you. You are the perfect amount of everything that you need to be, you don’t need to be less, or even more of anything. You’re you and that’s pretty darn powerful in itself. Lean into that.

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The fact it takes a tree so many years to grow makes them all the more spectacular to me, and we have so many around us. How many surround your garden or home, your workplace even?

I am fascinated by the thought that the majority of trees I see are at least 50+ years old, I imagine what these places will look like in 40 or 50 years time, when I’ve lived the majority of my life, will they still be standing, strong and towering above me? There will be (I hope) new juvenile trees that never existed today, soaring into the skyline above me.

I cringe every time I see one being cut down, though I know it’s necessary in many cases (Ash Dieback and safety reasons). I myself have recently had a line of enormous, looming conifers trimmed back as they overhung my stables, posing a risk to the building and the horses. But it’s the mass deforestation that pulls at my heart, or the unnecessary removal of mature trees, just because ‘they’re in the way’. They were likely there long before you my friend!

I recently saw a post on Instagram about things we can learn from Willow trees and it inspired me to share this piece with you.

Many of us spend a great deal of our time in the outdoors, amongst nature and surrounded by… trees. In the busyness of life, these fade into the background of our surroundings and peripheral vision 90% of the time, it’s only if something is new, or changes or looks spectacularly breathtaking (or the opposite), we often stop and take note.

For me, my stable yard is surrounded by a variety of trees, and I try to make a conscious effort each time I sit down with my coffee, in my favourite spot, which gives me the best view out over the paddocks, to take a moment to admire and notice the trees. These, in particular remind me of the bronchi of the lungs. And then, my mind leads me to remember just how important trees are, they are a life force for this planet. Earth’s own lungs if you will.

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Did you know, each year, an average mature tree produces enough oxygen for 10 people? And trees also help to reduce the ‘Greenhouse’ effect by removing CO2 from the air and releasing Oxygen? It’s been a while since school, so I definitely had to Google that… but how incredible right?

If that wasn’t enough, trees can teach us a lot about life, and what it is to dance to its tune if only we pay attention. Here’s a couple of lessons trees have taught me, from stopping to listen.

I may sound like a hippy-dippy tree hugger, and I’ll take it, because I am captivated by these natural wonders, and honestly, I want you to be too.

1. To grow, you need to bend and change course, going with life, don’t resist it. You’ll only break otherwise or find your growth is stunted. Sure the outcome may look a little different to how you imagined, you may gain a few more wrinkles or scars along the way, but just as a tree may bend and break in it’s growth, it never falters, it’s always moving onwards.

2. You don’t have to be at your best all year round, it’s ok to have off-seasons or seasons of R&R. It’s impossible to be ‘on’ all the time, it’s a mask you may be able to wear for a while, but it’ll slip in time if you don’t take a break from it. Just like trees shed their leaves each Winter, and lay bare over the bleaker months, before renewing in the Spring, you can take time out and still come back to life once you’ve caught up. It’ll be waiting for you. You can do the same. Whatever works best for you. But you don’t have to be at 100% all year round, it’s not sustainable.

3. In a similar vein, change can be beautiful. Embrace it for it is constant and both inevitable and unavoidable. For many, our favourite seasons are either Autumn, when the leaves of the trees change from the vibrant and full greens to the rich reds and copper colours as the leaves die, and fall, creating a carpet of golds, browns we adore. Contrastingly, many love Spring as the trees come back to life, beginning with promising buds, before blooming blossom in dreamy colours adorns their branches, all before giving way to new leaves for the season ahead.

4. Be patient. You won’t achieve your purpose or your end-goal over night. Growth takes time. The slowest growing tree on record, whilst still beautiful and valued, is a white cedar tree calling the Canadian shoreline home which, has been recorded officially as growing 4 inches in 155 years!

5. Put the work in, beneath the surface, it’ll allow you to grow above. The power and importance of practicing mindfulness and working on our mindset has become widely recognised and accepted in recent years. It’s no secret, when we feel good, we do good. If a tree’s roots are unhealthy or rotting this has a knock on effect for the rest of the tree, the parts we see. The same can be said for our mental and internal physical health.

6. Walk your own path. The majority of trees live a solitary life, whilst being surrounded by other’s they’re only concerned with their own growth, with the exception of a few rare examples where trees grow together, a phenomenon known as inosculstion. We can learn a lot from this. Despite being surrounded daily by hundreds if not thousands of strangers, in person and online nowadays, try to concern yourself less with others and what they’re doing or their opinions and more with your own journey. You’ll find this route to success much more efficient if you aren’t getting wrapped up in the growth of other’s, hindering your own.

Helping and supporting others is another thing entirely and should be encouraged, but when the presence of others is overshadowing yourself and blocking your light, you need to bend, away and back towards the light.