Hello hello. It feels like two minutes ago since I was writing about the prolonged heatwave of 2025, and now, here I am, immersed in mid-autumn. Dreaming about those past summer days, whilst leaning into the increasingly longer autumnal nights.

There has been some nature blessings to behold as the darkness increases.

We’re in a cycle of four consecutive Supermoons (August through November), where I can really admire the night sky. These full moons all have beautiful traditional names:

• The one closest to the Autumn Equinox is the Harvest Moon (September).
• Next up is the Hunter’s Moon (October), a time for hunting to prepare for the cold months.
• Then we have the Beaver Moon (November), named for the time beavers start building their winter lodges.
• Finally, the sequence wraps up with the Cold Moon (December).

Astrologically, a Supermoon is said to amplify the full moon’s usual energy. So with four in a row, this is a super-charged period for letting go of what no longer serves. 

While I’ve not been doing that, the weather certainly has!

We got a uber taste of raw ‘letting go’ power here on the coast this weekend with the arrival of Storm Amy. The wind was prolonged and brutally strong, turning our garden into a restructuring zone. I’m not exaggerating when I say a good chunk of our fencing has been reduced to kindling, and our massive, overachieving sunflowers—X’s mighty titans of summer—were snapped right down to the ground.

Post-storm, the weather has been really erratic too, with continued winds, rain, slices of golden sunshine, and a dollop of thick, soupy gloom. The fog is always going to lure me back out after a storm though. I’m fascinated by what it can reveal, as it reveals new details.

I’ve noticed the stalwart hydrangea is finally getting the autumn memo too, turning from green to a lovely, dusty pink. It’s a gentle, slow farewell to summer.

With the natural world is visibly turning, I’ve found myself tucked up indoors. This shift does mean more indoor time art time, which has been perfect for a bit of hearth craft. 

I’ve been wrestling with two pieces of reclaimed oak M and I salvaged about four years ago. When I moved into this house, I knew what they could be. I’ve been determined to turn them into new mantelpieces. 

It took a lot of sanding and some eco-resin to bring some salvaged lumps of oak back to a respectable condition. I also cleaned and repainted some old rusty brackets to hang them on.

They now sit perfectly kooky with the other ancient-looking wood in the house, looking as though they were always meant to be there.

This project felt particularly significant as we head into the darker half of the year. The hearth or fireplace is so much more than just a source of heat; it’s the centre point of a home, and historically, it was the soul of domestic life. Folklore is full of traditions around the hearth, marking it as a place of protection, warmth, and ritual.

It feels like it will get me through this year’s wintering. 

Just by adding natural elements or symbols to the hearth, I’ll mark another turn in the wheel of the year. I’m confident it will lift the gloom and give me a focus for my creative energy while the garden is sleeping.

More time indoors inevitably means more art desk time. As the nights roll in, and the amount of time I can reasonably spend outside reduces, I happily use this place to experiment—with colours, textures, and ideas that feel more grounded and cozy.

We have about ten weeks until the Winter Solstice on Sunday, December 21st (3:03 pm UK time)—the shortest day of the year. That haul into deep winter is one I’m hoping to be a restful stretch of time, where I am warm, making things, and observing the powerful, bright Supermoons pass overhead.

Back soon with an art desk update.