What a thoughtful, lovely review. Henry Mitchell’s books do the same for me: slow me down, reconnect me to the joy of surrendering to time and patient waiting, soothe me with their meticulous consideration of the merits of one variety of cyclamen in a catalogue vs another. Mitchell was the garden editor of the Washington Post for decades, and his writing is elegant, considered, slightly Victorian. His avuncular voice is as comforting as an old woolen sweater. His essays, written pre-Internet, unhurried and unbothered, remind me of our “tendency toward complication” and challenge me to remember that living in my commonly frenetic, mindless state is a choice, even if it feels otherwise. It’s a choice I can resist by digging into the cold red clay of my garden, or methodically sorting the junk pile in my shed, or putting down my phone to watch the birds hop around on the ice that crusts the path outside my window. Thank you for the recommendation.
Ah, I feel such calm coming over me just from reading this, Katy! “The original mindfulness that most of us have lost,” indeed. All the things that pull at our attention, modern life dragging us further and further away from the core of ourselves – being near nature, mind focused on practical tasks yet free to roam, close to the earth that grounds us and of which we are part, always, even though we forget it and fool ourselves into believing we’re well past all that.
I often think this disconnection is such a driving force behind the epidemic of mental suffering – we’ve become detached, and we spend far too much time inside our own fretting minds instead of actually being out there, with dirt under our nails and rain on our faces, belonging.
Reading what you’ve written about Apple Acre makes me think of one of my favourite go-to comfort listens: Alex James’ (the bassist in Blur) All Cheeses Great and Small, read in his own lovely voice. It tells the story of him and his family leaving London and pop stardom for a leaking old Cotswold farmhouse and the adventures of learning to make cheese! :)
Love how you found this book—feeling a call to go to a used bookstore now. 😊
I especially connected with your observations of how outdoor work contrasts and complements the sedentary work of editing. I am outside with children as a caretaker and educator, and have found the experience essential. I can’t let it go. It is barely a side hustle, money wise, but for my spirit it is worth the time and investment.
love this Katy. I've been reading a lot of old out of print May Sarton's books lately. Her diaries from the 80s documenting her older age. She has many gripes about the publishing industry in her books back then, too. which makes me feel seen!
What a thoughtful, lovely review. Henry Mitchell’s books do the same for me: slow me down, reconnect me to the joy of surrendering to time and patient waiting, soothe me with their meticulous consideration of the merits of one variety of cyclamen in a catalogue vs another. Mitchell was the garden editor of the Washington Post for decades, and his writing is elegant, considered, slightly Victorian. His avuncular voice is as comforting as an old woolen sweater. His essays, written pre-Internet, unhurried and unbothered, remind me of our “tendency toward complication” and challenge me to remember that living in my commonly frenetic, mindless state is a choice, even if it feels otherwise. It’s a choice I can resist by digging into the cold red clay of my garden, or methodically sorting the junk pile in my shed, or putting down my phone to watch the birds hop around on the ice that crusts the path outside my window. Thank you for the recommendation.
Ah, I feel such calm coming over me just from reading this, Katy! “The original mindfulness that most of us have lost,” indeed. All the things that pull at our attention, modern life dragging us further and further away from the core of ourselves – being near nature, mind focused on practical tasks yet free to roam, close to the earth that grounds us and of which we are part, always, even though we forget it and fool ourselves into believing we’re well past all that.
I often think this disconnection is such a driving force behind the epidemic of mental suffering – we’ve become detached, and we spend far too much time inside our own fretting minds instead of actually being out there, with dirt under our nails and rain on our faces, belonging.
Reading what you’ve written about Apple Acre makes me think of one of my favourite go-to comfort listens: Alex James’ (the bassist in Blur) All Cheeses Great and Small, read in his own lovely voice. It tells the story of him and his family leaving London and pop stardom for a leaking old Cotswold farmhouse and the adventures of learning to make cheese! :)
What a beautifully written review! I'm so glad you found just the right book at just the right time.
Love how you found this book—feeling a call to go to a used bookstore now. 😊
I especially connected with your observations of how outdoor work contrasts and complements the sedentary work of editing. I am outside with children as a caretaker and educator, and have found the experience essential. I can’t let it go. It is barely a side hustle, money wise, but for my spirit it is worth the time and investment.
love this Katy. I've been reading a lot of old out of print May Sarton's books lately. Her diaries from the 80s documenting her older age. She has many gripes about the publishing industry in her books back then, too. which makes me feel seen!