Beautiful, Wild and Worth Knowing

There is something quite magical about walking through the woods at this time of year.

The hedgerows are full of colour. Blackberries are ripening. Wild raspberries can be tucked amongst the brambles. Seeds are forming, berries are appearing and everywhere you look there seems to be something to notice.

And then there are the plants that we need to know about.

Every year at Tales and Trails, I spend a little time introducing the children – and their grown-ups – to woody nightshade.

You might have walked past it hundreds of times without ever knowing what it was.

It is a climbing plant that can be found in woodland, hedgerows and other places around us. Its berries are particularly striking: little green berries gradually ripen to a beautiful, bright red. They really do catch your eye, especially when growing amongst blackberries and other wild fruits.

And this is usually the point where I see the expressions on the parents’ faces change.

“Oh…!”

Because these are exactly the sorts of berries that a young child might be curious about.

Woody nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) is harmful if eaten, which is why learning to recognise it is so important.

I don’t teach this to frighten the children.

Quite the opposite.

I teach it because knowing gives us confidence.

When we know what something is, we can make sensible choices about it.

We can look closely.

We can notice its colour and shape.

We can learn its name.

We can understand that some plants are food for us, some are food for wildlife, some have medicinal uses, and some are simply plants that we admire without touching or eating.

And we can learn that “I don’t know what that is” is a perfectly good reason not to put it in our mouths.

There is more than one nightshade…

Woody nightshade is not the only nightshade we might encounter.

There is also deadly nightshade, Atropa belladonna.

Despite its name, it doesn’t necessarily look frightening at all. In fact, its shiny, dark berries can look surprisingly inviting. It grows in woodland and scrub, particularly in parts of southern and central England, and the berries are highly poisonous.

It is a good reminder that nature doesn’t always come with a warning sign.

Something doesn’t have to look sinister to deserve our respect.

And that, really, is what I want children to take away from these conversations.

Respect, rather than fear.

Nature isn’t always gentle

I love nature.

The woods are my happy place. They are where I feel grounded, where I feel I belong, and where I am reminded to slow down and pay attention.

But I also don’t want to put nature on a pedestal and pretend that everything in it is gentle, safe and there for us to enjoy without thought.

Nature is powerful.

Plants contain incredibly complex chemicals. Some can nourish us. Some can irritate us. Some have been used in traditional herbal practices, and some plants have provided compounds that have gone on to have important medicinal uses.

Deadly nightshade is a fascinating example. Although highly poisonous, compounds derived from it have had medicinal applications, including the use of one of its compounds in drugs to slow the heart rate down.

This is one of the reasons I believe Forest School matters

Forest School isn’t simply about getting muddy.

Although we certainly do plenty of that!

It is about developing a relationship with the natural world.

We learn the names of trees.

We watch what happens to the plants as the seasons change.

We notice fungi appearing after rain.

We discover which berries are familiar and which ones we shouldn’t touch.

We learn how to move through the woodland safely.

We ask questions.

We notice things.

And gradually, the woodland becomes less of an unfamiliar green space and more like a place we know.

I’ve had parents tell me afterwards that learning about woody nightshade at Forest School made them look differently at their own gardens.

Some have discovered the plant growing at home and recognised it because of what we had talked about.

And they have told me how grateful they were to have learned about it.

That is a lovely thing.

Because the knowledge doesn’t stay in the woods.

It goes home with them.

It gets shared with siblings and grandparents.

It changes the way they walk through their garden.

It gives a parent the confidence to say, “I know what that is. Let’s leave it alone.”

And perhaps, most importantly, it helps children understand that the natural world is something to know, not simply something to fear.

When Rubbish Becomes Possibility

The other day, I arrived at Forest School with a bundle of straw from a local farmer.

The farmer, who knows me well enough by now, was curious.

“What are you making with it this time?”

Scarecrows, I told him.

And that’s exactly what the Year 3 children set about making.

I showed them how to create the basic structure—the body, the head, the shape that would allow their scarecrow to stand.

Then I stepped back.

Because once the foundations were there, I wanted to see who these scarecrows would become.

The children searched around the woodland for feathers, catkins, leaves, sticks and anything else they felt could bring their creation to life.

There were no two alike.

And then one little girl found something that, at first glance, didn’t look like it belonged in a creative activity at all.

A deflated, pierced rubber balloon.

It had somehow found its way into the hedge, blown there by the wind.

She picked it up.

And then she had an idea.

Before long, that sad little piece of litter had become the coolest hooded cloak.

Suddenly, her scarecrow had a completely different character.

It was brilliant.

A little later, a boy came across the tiniest piece of polystyrene.

“Can I have a pen?”

He drew a pair of Minion-style eyes onto it and carefully attached them to his scarecrow.

 

And there it was again.

Something discarded becoming something imaginative.

Something unwanted becoming part of a creation.

That’s upcycling at its most joyful.

Litter deeply upsets me. I find it difficult to understand how something can simply be thrown away without a thought for where it might end up or what it might affect.

But watching these children interact with the pieces of litter they found in the woods gave me a different perspective.

They didn’t see rubbish.

They saw possibility.

And, importantly, they also understood that by using these objects, they were taking them out of the natural environment.

It opened up a conversation about littering, about looking after the places we love, and about the impact our choices can have on the natural world.

We talked about how artists sometimes collect discarded objects and transform them into thought-provoking pieces of art.

Perhaps that’s because there is something powerful about taking something that has been overlooked and asking:

What else could this become?

I left that session feeling unexpectedly hopeful.

Because perhaps environmental awareness doesn’t always begin with a lecture about protecting the planet.

Perhaps sometimes it begins with a child picking up a piece of rubbish and seeing possibility in it.

With curiosity.

With imagination.

With the understanding that what we leave behind matters.

Who knows?

Maybe amongst those children was a future artist who will one day create something that makes thousands of people stop and think about the world around them.

Maybe not.

But for an hour in the woods, they were already practising the kind of thinking our world needs more of.

Looking differently.

Using what is already there.

Finding beauty and possibility in unexpected places.

And leaving the woods a little better than they found them.

I’ll take that as a reason for hope.

A question to take with you…

What might you see differently if, instead of asking “What is this?”, you asked, “What could this become?”

Why I keep coming back

Last week was our final preschool Forest School session of the academic year.

It is always one of my favourite days.

And one of the hardest.

Every summer, we say goodbye to the children who are about to start school. Over the years, I’ve created a little tradition. Each child receives a graduation medal made from wood gathered from the woodland where we’ve shared so many adventures together, engraved with the Tales and Trails logo.

It’s a small gift.

But it carries so much meaning.

For the children, it’s an exciting milestone.

For their parents and carers, it’s often a moment when the reality sinks in. Their little one is growing up. One chapter is closing and another is about to begin.

There are hugs.

There are photographs.

And almost always, there are tears.

Mine included.

Because as I hand over each medal, I’m not only saying goodbye to a child.

I’m saying goodbye to families I’ve sometimes known for years.

I’ve watched first wobbly steps become confident climbs over fallen logs.

I’ve seen quiet children find their voice.

I’ve watched friendships begin beneath the trees.

And then, just like that, it’s time for them to fly.

These sessions remind me of something nature teaches us again and again.

Everything changes.

The seasons.

The woodland.

Our children.

Ourselves.

The only certainty we really have is that nothing stays the same.

If I’m honest, there are moments throughout the year when I wonder whether I can keep these preschool sessions going.

The weather seems to become more unpredictable with every passing season.

This year alone has brought relentless rain, flooded paths, storms, heatwaves and drought.

Running Forest School means adapting constantly, often carrying on when conditions are far from easy.

Then there are the practical realities.

Insurance.

Safeguarding training.

First aid renewals.

Equipment.

The countless unseen hours behind every two-hour session in the woods.

The truth is, if I looked at these sessions purely as a business, they probably wouldn’t make much sense.

Without my husband’s support, Tales and Trails Preschool Forest School simply wouldn’t exist.

And yet…

Every single time I begin to question whether I can continue, something happens.

A child proudly shows me the stick they’ve transformed into a magic wand.

A parent tells me this is the highlight of their week.

A family returns season after season because this little patch of woodland has become part of their story.

Then graduation day arrives.

The hugs.

The handwritten cards.

The kind words.

The tears.

And I’m reminded that not everything that matters can be measured on a spreadsheet.

Some things make sense in a different way.

They make sense because they bring people together.

Because they help children grow in confidence.

Because they create memories that families carry long after muddy boots have been washed and packed away.

Because they fill a small corner of the world with a little more wonder.

Perhaps we all have something in our lives like that.

Something that asks a great deal of us.

Something that isn’t always easy.

Something that might not make perfect sense to anyone else.

But deep down, we know the world would feel emptier without it.

For me, Tales and Trails is one of those things.

As I packed my trolley after our final session, my heart was full.

Not because everything is easy.

Far from it.

But because, once again, I remembered why I keep coming back.

The Treasures We Bring

Sometimes the magic of Forest School begins long before anyone steps into the woods.

Last week, I invited the families at our preschool session to bring along a few little treasures from home.

A feather, a shell, a pine cone, a ribbon…

Anything that could become part of a woodland mobile to hang from the trees around our little Basecamp.

One family arrived carrying a bag full of treasures.

There were poppy seed heads, ribbons, a tiny wooden squirrel, shells and all sorts of little bits and pieces that had clearly been gathered over time.

His mum smiled as she handed it to me.

“It came from his grandparents.”

She’d sent them my message about bringing nature treasures, and instead of simply reading it, they’d set about searching their home together. They gathered things they thought their grandson would love to share.

By the time he arrived, he wasn’t just bringing a bag of objects. He was bringing a story.

He proudly emptied the treasures onto the ground for everyone to see. Other children gathered around, fascinated by each discovery.

It made me realise that Forest School doesn’t begin when the session starts, and it doesn’t end when everyone goes home.

That’s what I love most.

Forest School isn’t simply something families attend.

Over time, it becomes part of how they notice the world.

As the children created their mobiles, I imagined them hanging from the trees around Basecamp, gently moving in the breeze for passing walkers to enjoy. Our little wishing trees have become something of a landmark, and I know local people smile when they spot children’s creations there.

But the children had other ideas.

One by one they proudly held up their mobiles.

“I want to hang mine at home.”

Of course they did.

These weren’t just decorations.

They were evidence that they had made something with their own hands, that they could create. Evidence of their growing confidence.

Sometimes I think adults are quick to focus on the finished product.

Children remind us that what really matters is what they discovered about themselves while making it.

Perhaps that’s why they wanted to take their mobiles home.

Not simply to decorate a garden or a bedroom.

But to keep a reminder that they made this.

That they could do something they were proud of.

And perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts we can give children.

Not beautiful things.

But opportunities to discover that they are capable of creating beautiful things themselves.

 

A question to take with you…

What is something you made as a child that filled you with pride—and why do you think you still remember it today?

Too Big to Play?

Every summer, I notice it.

Year 6 children ( 11 years old) arrive at Forest School carrying something different.

Some are excited about moving on. Some have mentally checked out of primary school weeks before the end of term. Many seem caught somewhere in between. They’re beginning to let go of childhood, but they’re not quite ready to leave it behind.

I often hear the same phrases.

“That’s for little kids.”

“I’m too big for this now.”

And I always wonder…

Do they really believe that?

Or do they think that’s who they’re supposed to become?

This week reminded me just how powerful that question is.

Before our session had even begun, three girls came to speak to me. There had been arguments. Hurtful words had been exchanged over the previous couple of days.

I listened.

As they talked, it became clear that underneath the unkindness was something much more familiar: the desperate need to belong.

I gently suggested that perhaps the girls who had been hurtful weren’t feeling secure in themselves. Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean because they’re trying so hard to find their place.

“That’s not an excuse,” I told them. “The behaviour still isn’t okay.”

“But I think we’ve probably all felt like we didn’t belong at some point.”

They all nodded.

Almost instantly, the conversation shifted. The hurt didn’t disappear, but it became easier to understand. It wasn’t about them being unworthy. It was about someone else struggling.

Then we began.

Our activity was Happazome, collecting leaves and flowers before transferring their natural pigments onto paper/fabric with hammers.

The girls I’d spoken with settled into creating straight away. The others disappeared into the forest school area.

Halfway through the session, I noticed the two girls who had been unkind sitting quietly to one side. They weren’t joining in.

I wandered over.

“It looks like you’ve had quite a hard day,” I said.

I invited them to come and have a go.

One hesitated. She used to throw herself into every Forest School activity.

The other smiled awkwardly.

“I don’t do activities anymore,” she said.

“I’m boring.”

I smiled.

“But if you can’t do this when you’re in primary school… when will you?”

She rolled her eyes a little… then smiled.

“Go on then.”

Within minutes, both girls had completely forgotten they were supposedly “too old.”

They experimented with different leaves.

They discovered which flowers made the brightest prints.

They began making their own natural paints.

Ideas bounced between them.

They laughed.

They concentrated.

They became wonderfully absorbed.

For over an hour.

The most remarkable part?

Without anyone planning it, they ended up creating alongside the very girls they’d argued with.

No forced apology.

No awkward intervention.

No reminders to be kind.

Just four children, side by side, immersed in making something beautiful.

Sometimes, when our hands are busy creating, our hearts quietly soften too.

Later, as conversations drifted naturally, I mentioned how challenging the world can sometimes feel for girls and women.

“It’s so much easier,” I said, “when we choose to support each other instead of competing.”

There was silence.

Not uncomfortable silence.

Reflective silence.

They nodded.

Then carried on hammering flowers.

Forest School often reminds me that children don’t always need adults to fix everything.

Sometimes they need a space where they can stop performing.

A space where they don’t have to prove they’re grown up.

A space where belonging happens naturally because everyone is focused on the same simple thing.

It’s easy to think that creativity is something children outgrow.

I don’t believe that.

I think many children simply learn that enjoying things isn’t always considered “cool.”

But give them permission to create without judgement…

Give them time…

Give them a little encouragement…

And suddenly they’re not trying to act like teenagers anymore.

They’re simply children again.

Perhaps that’s what Forest School offers Year 6 more than anything during these final weeks of primary school.

Not preparation for secondary school.

A gentle reminder that they don’t have to rush out of childhood before they’re ready.

Wild garlic is out…you can smell it before you can see it! Such an exciting time! 

It means; I can make nettle soup again.

For many, this can seem like an odd thing to do. If that’s you, I’m asking you to put your trust in me! Just this once…

Nettle soup is delicious, I love it, my kids love it, my other half loves it… even my mother-in-lay loves it!

And Nettles are super nutritious! Check this article, it’s impressive for such an unloved plant.

If I haven’t convinced you yet, I’m not surprised… those childhood stings are haunting us all but did you know there’s a way of picking them up without getting stung?

Watch this 55sec video to see how:

Who will be brave enough to try this?  Nettle soup recipe Alternatively, use some gloves to forage them. Pick only the top 4 leaves (nice and tender) Collect a whole bag of them. Wash them twice in cold water using kitchen tongues. In a cooking pot, add some vegetable oil or, like me, 25g of butter. Cut and gently fry 1 white onion, until translucent. Add your nettles (using the kitchen tongues). Add a couple of medium-large potatoes (diced). This are the thickening ingredients. Add some water to cover your vegetables. Add a stock cube (Vegetable or chicken) Season with salt and pepper Now, this is the magic touch (not compulsory though), you can add a leaf or two, or even a flower of wild garlic to the mix. This is next level scrumptious but don’t let it stop you if you haven’t got any nearby. You can add a garlic clove instead. Once it’s boiling, cook for about 15 min (until the potatoes are cooked) Blend… et voila! Savour it as it is or add a splash of cream or milk if you fancy. If I can inspire five of you to make nettle soup this season, I’d be super chuffed! So please let me know if you do and what you think! I believe Mother Nature grows one of the best plants for us all to consume, right under our nose.   Little note on foraging thoughtfully: Always make sure you leave plenty for nature to thrive (think of the plant itself but also of the animals depending on it). Take only what you need and from a place where the plant is abundant.

Earlier this month, World Book day was celebrated throughout the country.

I love books. I love stories. It’s very rare I don’t share a story with the children at forest school. I love the worlds a good book takes you in, the emotions it makes you feel, and the opportunities for discussion it presents you with.

If you come to my sessions for pre-schoolers, you will know that story time is never without interactions, it’s wonderful!

I always think a good book is one that changes you.

Books are a platform for learning, for growth, for communication, a door to a wider world!

I’m sure you have spotted that I am working on my own book. It’s a very exciting process and a steep learning curve. I can’t tell you when it will be published because I’m very much going with the flow 😉

I only recently picked it up again after leaving it to the side for 8-9 months as I couldn’t see how to move forward without it losing its soul. Now, I feel very connected to it again and am enjoying working on it most days. I promise to keep you up-to-date with how it’s being birthed into this world!

So here are three books I have loved sharing with my own children and yours. Believe me, it was hard picking only 3!

The Busy Fox by Isaac Madge	There’s a Rang-Tan in my bedroom by James Sellick & Frann Preston-Gannon	Here we are by Oliver Jeffers

I am always looking for new storybooks (about nature, emotions and wellbeing) to share at forest school, so if you have a favourite, feel free to message me.

As I am finishing this email, I realise I cannot end this newsletter without mentioning The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. It is a classic for a reason. You’re all familiar with its beautiful illustrations but have you ever read it? If not, this could be a wonderful discovery.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

My intention is for you to lose yourself in a great book (big or small) and connect with how it has changed you for the better.

Wing Parish Council & the Volunteers of the Spinney have always been so supportive of Tales and Trails. When I approached them back in 2019 with the vision of opening a little forest school, they quickly gave me the green light.

I was encouraged to volunteer in the Spinney. I say “encouraged” because yes, the council suggested I joined since I was enjoying this beautiful space for my sessions. Only fair, right?

At first, I wondered how on earth I could make it work. Running Tales and Trails and Your path (my wellbeing business), being a mum of 2, running a house… and trying to make space for my wellbeing, it took some organising.

So I started crossing the first Wednesday afternoon of the month in my diary off. It’s easy to forget otherwise and let’s be honest, I have booked the odd coaching or reiki appointments in because sometimes, it just has to be that way. But overall, I really try to keep that one afternoon a month off.

Time is something you have to create. You will never have time to volunteer. It’s a choice you have to take if that’s something you feel drawn to.

The next big hurdle was admitting that I was a little scared if I’m honest. What on earth could I do to help? I don’t know how to manage woodlands! Guess what, all that mattered is that I wanted to make a difference. I ask questions, lots of questions. And here’s the key… asking questions lead to so many great conversations.

First, I learnt lots of new skills, which helped my confidence but most importantly, I’m gaining a much better understanding on what’s being done. In the past, I’d walk around and wondered why some trees had been felled, why reeds had been cleared out of the pond, why an area is kept mowed, not another… My concerns were all legit. So let’s talk (rather than moan online) Volunteering opened a dialogue, where opinions are being expressed and decisions are taken together. We all bring something to the table.

I am so excited about everything that is happening in the Spinney and next to it. It’s easy to focus on all that goes bad in the world at the moment but there are also lots of beautiful projects everywhere and Wing is no exception! I’m sure you have seen the article below in the Leighton Observer. It’s really wonderful and this is only a restricted representation of what has been happening over the last few years.

Article in the Observer

Thousands more trees were planted in and around the Spinney prior to the newly added land. The local Scouts got involved, local Duke of Edinburgh students and let’s not forget us, Tales and Trails! We planted nearly 400 saplings last year. A morning to cherish forever involving all the children and their families.

But here is the reality, when you plant a sapling, it doesn’t guarantee that the tree will live. It will take more hands and time to clear the guards twice a year, to make sure they can reach enough light and have enough space to grow.

“Why do they plant the saplings so close to each other?” Again, I got the answer to this when I started volunteering. We know not all trees aren’t going to survive so we take natural selection into account. So that means we have to plant more and that we have to look after those we planted… it’s an ongoing task for the first few years of these saplings.

If, like me, you are enjoying the Spinney, we’d love to welcome you one day soon. Come and be a part of our conversations.

The volunteers of the Spinney gather every month:

*every first Wednesday afternoon

*every first Sunday afternoon  

During the winter hours, it’s 1-4-p.m. As soon as the clocks changes to summertime, it’s between 2-5p.m.

There’s a job for everyone. Earlier this month, the lovely Jane and I spent most of the afternoon splitting snowdrops to spread them out (I had never done it before), cutting plastic bands restricting growing trees and clearing paths with secateurs whilst others cut back brambles to allow the undergrowth to arise.

Volunteering has given me so much more that I thought… I started thinking I was doing a good deed, I quickly realised it’s so much more!

Message me if you want to know more or join us one day.

I hope you are enjoying the days getting longer, the daffodils rising and blooming, the warm sun rays reaching across the bare canopy.

This half-term, among all the nature activities planned around the rising energy of spring, I also decided to thread some activities about emotions throughout the sessions. Toddlers have big emotions and it can be tricky to navigate them at times.

My intention is to gently guide the children to take a moment during each session to acknowledge how they feel, to develop a bank of vocabulary, express a range of emotions and to learn that all emotions are legitimate (positive and challenging ones)

We started this practice last week and the children really embraced it. We looked at how our facial expressions and our body change with different emotions, then used what we could find on the forest floor to recreate these expressions.

We had the greatest conversation when little James shared that he believed that “Florence is always happy”. Really, I owed it to him to express how this wasn’t the truth. Yes, I am always happy to welcome you at forest school but believe me, I am not always happy. I have big emotions too! 🙂

Many adults never take the time to press pause and check-in, it takes practice to make it a habit. Our body keeps scores of what is not being properly processed.

Starting this process early with our children helps them to develop this healthy habit.

It’s easy to understand why. Remember the last time you got frustrated, angry or sad? Go back to that moment. Where did you feel it in your body? If you did confide into a friend, even if they couldn’t “fix” what’s happening in your life, you probably felt heard and therefore lighter. The moment your emotion is acknowledged and validated, it becomes easier to bear.

The key is to acknowledge it first yourself so you can then verbalise, communicate your feelings and then truly move forward rather than burying it all down.

Let’s make this clear, it doesn’t have to be a daily lengthy conversation (unless your child wants to). Here are two questions you can ask:

How do you feel in your heart today?

How do you feel in your body?

And then hold the space for your child to express themselves in their own words. As much as possible, hold back from trying to fix what’s going on if your child is experiencing something difficult. I know, that’s hard! As parents, we would do anything for them not to feel pain but the best way to help is to listen. Children who are being listened to will build an inner confidence, knowing that living difficult moments do happen in life but that they are equipped to deal with them.

So it could look like something like this:

“I understand you feel that way, it’s hard when someone doesn’t want to play with you, how did it make you feel?” The child will probably start by using with words like “sad” or “angry” As they grow older, they will move on to words like “frustrated”, “left out” ,“lonely”, ”unseen”…

Slowly introduce new words, allowing them to become more descriptive as they grow.

Many of you know that I am a transformational life coach (www.toyourpath.com, Insta @to_your_path) So many lovely people I work with struggle with this. That can leave them feeling broken, overwhelmed and lost.

So perhaps, as you develop this little habit with your child, ask yourself the same questions:

How am I feeling in my heart?

How am I feeling in my body?

How am I feeling in my mind?

And then take action. It all starts there.

Reading a variety of storybooks with your children will help developing that range of vocabulary too.

Last week, I shared Giraffes can’t dance in session

It’s a wonderful story on so many levels; from the range of emotions Gerald feels throughout the story to the discovery of your own worth.

---

Mindfulness meditations for children

If you are looking for a bit of support managing those big emotions, here’s a reminder of the meditation I created for children, with the lovely Janet from @seetieverse Check out other meditations here