Six Hedgehogs
I became a single mum when my son was fifteen months old. I was sole supporting, no safety net. We had our flat repossessed, it was a massive juggling act although I got him through school anyway. We are extraordinarily close now and that, more than anything, is what I am proudest of.
The Pyrenees were always a special place for us. We first came when he was nearly two and stayed in the mountains opposite Montségur, one of the most extraordinary landscapes in France with a story of resilience, steeped in history and something harder to name. It got into my bones and never left and now I live here.
My garden is walled and surrounded by mature fig trees. I keep large areas of it deliberately wild with no pesticides, no intervention and it has become an extraordinary haven for wildlife. Last night I counted at least six hedgehogs. The bugs are enormous and almost every footstep dislodges a butterfly. The birds make a particular sound when rain is coming and i’m just so happy that I have the opportunity to listen.
I've learned that weeds are not weeds. Right now I'm loving sticky willy or cleavers, infused in water as a Spring cleanse for the lymphatic system. Nature tends to provide exactly what we need at each time of year, if we pay attention. My dehydrator is constantly on the go and I often wonder why we pull out all these freely given remedies and replace them with plants grown in monocultures on the other side of the world that provide no food, no medicine and no home for wildlife. Every autumn on St Catherine's Day I plant trees. In the past few years I’ve planted at least 40 and they are already bearing fruit.
A river runs along the edge of my garden. Two more rivers and a stream meet at the bottom, near the petanque club, under the red bridge. I am by water almost every day and I rarely throw any down the sink - it all goes back to the garden. My son used to think I was mental. He's starting to do it himself now ;-) Happy days.
Living like this, it is easy to be an animist. Not as doctrine, just a felt sense that everything is alive and connected and that a river is not a resource and naturally that nature, given half a chance, knows what it's doing.
The first River Summit happened here, in this garden. It was spontaneous, community led, completely unplanned. I had no idea what it would become. The first gathering was beautiful with the right people, with no hint of ‘NGO speak’ and basically just a gathering of friends who all loved the rivers here.
What I have tried to build is a trusted, independent space. We are not funded by government or industry and certainly not beholden to any agenda. Everyone is genuinely free to ask the difficult questions (we hope they do) and put the right people in the same room.
I am constantly surprised by people's passion and tenacity, by how much people want to do the right thing when given the space to. I can see, looking in from here, how easily things get skewed by money and the pressure of profit and how the answers often come from the most unexpected places.
Nature is at the centre of everything. That much I know.