As an eternal optimist, I forever turn my attention towards thoughts of positivity and hope and I will either run a mile or turn my back on tales of woe and despair which so frequently surround us. My children, or one in particular, find it irritating that in their moments of complaining and off-loading, my habit is to point out the bright side and see what good is coming from their challenging day. I have learnt that I am better to just listen, empathise and bite my tongue. I am not sure if we are hard-wired as optimists or pessimists or if it’s something that we are influenced by from those around us and we then choose to be one or the other. I feel as though I don’t have a choice; I simply can’t cope if the picture seems bleak.

 The last week or so there have been glimmers of spring trying to peep through only to be thwarted back by the winter not quite ready to let go. Winter seems to have been long and very wet, but at least it has provided the necessary slowing down, semi-hibernating required of us all. In winter we need to rest more, recuperate and preserve our energy for the upcoming hive of activity of the other three seasons. Nature is just the same: the pace slows or goes dormant. A chance to find the stillness within; it is always there, but we need to slow down enough to feel it.

 The days are getting longer again, not yet bringing warmth, but there is at least more daylight. The great tits are now bursting with territorial song and I just heard the first woodpecker drumming its mating call to a recipient not much further away. Our wetlands have been a hive of activity for various birds and have shown just how much flooded grassland is needed for numerous species to be sustained throughout winter. At least two, if not three, barn owls have been joyfully watched all winter in the early mornings on the estate and last night I heard the tawny owls have paired up, declaring their famous tw-it (female) t-woo (male). Where our pigs have turned over lots of the soil, we have rich habitat for field voles and shrews who are thriving as they are surrounded by the nooks and crannies of overturned soil and lots of long grasses, hence so are the owls thriving.

 However, it is quite a leap of faith creating this glorious habitat for others, no matter how optimistic I try to be. We gave the pigs about 30 acres for 4 months from August to November last year and to say they have made a dramatic impact is an understatement! The ground is almost impassable on foot, quad or tractor and is certainly uncomfortable trying to do so. This was brilliant in a number of ways as they loved eating up acorns and finding plenty of grubs in the soil, whilst also creating great new habitat. But, in order to manage the land so we can sow wildflowers and take hay from it later in the summer, it will need a certain amount of levelling. We think we will do this in some areas rather than all of it to try to achieve a benefit for all. The ground needs to dry up an awful lot before we can even think about doing this and until then, every time I walk past or over it I have the criticising voice in my head saying ‘oh my word, what have you done?’ I am not entirely sure I know the answer, or if there even is an answer. However, I am reminded of the Lakota prayer that I came across recently and is spoken of at length by Robin Wall Kimmerer in her book braiding sweetgrass:

Great mystery,
teach me how to trust,
my heart,
my mind,
my intuition,
my inner knowing,
the senses of my body,
the blessings of my spirit.
Teach me to trust these things
so that I may enter my Sacred Space
and walk beyond my fear,
and thus Walk in Balance
with the passing of each glorious Sun.

So I shall recite this, or something along these lines, as I am akin to adapting others’ work to meet my own needs, next time I walk past. Whilst taking a breath of optimism into my heart, I will find the trust and intuition of knowing what to do next. It will come from that place of stillness, if I can be patient and quiet long enough to feel it.