Falling Apart. It was inevitable. I've come to recognise this stage and am learning to tolerate it. To even welcome it as an integral and probably necessary part of the creative process. Perhaps it would be more worrying if the falling apart didn't happen- that might...

 Making it While the Sun Shines. I genuinely feel like the Miller’s daughter in the story Rumpelstitskin. I’ve a massive pile of cut hay on one side, and a long snaking hay rope on the other, which I’m looping together to form a structure. I reckon I’ve made 70 metres...

The Peace of Wild Things. Driving to Wakehurst this morning for my artist in residency, on my car radio I hear bellicose Middle Eastern leaders holding forth, and reports of awful police investigations here in the UK. I’m overwhelmed by it, by feelings of despair and...

Trail of seeds. This is my working space for my post as artist in residence at Wakehurst, or what I like to call my studio: a couple of straw bales and a farm yard. Sheepskin for a touch of luxury. It's a naturally peaceful spot save for the occasional arrival of a...

Bare feet and windrows. I’m at Wakehurst, in Bloomers Valley, checking out the plants in this meadow for my Meadow Weave residency. It’s a species-rich conservation-grade meadow, the result of a big restoration project here. I’m admiring the dramatic...