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Koalas on the Green – Instagram

There is a reason the word pteridophyte (ferns) be There is a reason the word pteridophyte (ferns) begins with pteri-.

It comes from the ancient Greek pteron—meaning wing or feather.

The same root gave us pterodactyl—the "winged finger" that once soared above prehistoric forests.

Standing among these fronds of Cyathea leichhardtiana, I cannot help but see feathers rather than leaves. Layer upon layer of green wings, suspended in the stillness of the forest.

Perhaps that is why forests have always felt like places of flight.

Not because our bodies leave the earth, but because our minds finally do.

When we loosen our grip on anxious thoughts, the weight we carry begins to fall away. The chatter softens. The need to control dissolves. Something lighter rises within us.

The sky is not the only place where spirits can soar.

There is another universe waiting beneath a green canopy.

A universe woven from leaf, light and silence.

Here, among these feathered fronds, we remember that freedom is not always found by looking upward.

Sometimes we find our wings by looking inward.

And sometimes...

the deepest flight of all happens without ever leaving the forest floor.

🌿

#WildNatureTherapy #Pteridophyte #TreeFerns #ForestBathing #CyatheaLeichhardtiana
Yesterday, 26 June, was the feast day of Saint Dav Yesterday, 26 June, was the feast day of Saint David of Thessaloniki — Saint David the Dendrite, the Tree-Dweller.

I only discovered this belatedly, and it moved me deeply.

Years ago, while walking from London to Jerusalem, I passed through Thessaloniki with my fellow walkers. I did not know then that a saint bearing my name was so closely connected to that city. I did not know that he had lived for three years in an almond tree in prayer and stillness, enduring the seasons. I did not know of his later journey to Constantinople, where he pleaded for Thessaloniki to be spared.

Sometimes meaning arrives long after the journey.

A man named David.
A city I once walked through.
A saint who lived in a tree.

As someone whose life has become increasingly entwined with trees, threatened plants, rainforest fragments and the healing wisdom of the natural world, I find this connection quietly beautiful.

Saint David’s life reminds me that stillness is not emptiness. Withdrawal is not indifference. Silence can prepare us for service.

He listened before he acted.
He endured before he spoke.
He rooted himself in prayer, then descended from the tree to serve others.

That feels like a lesson for my own path.

To slow down.
To listen more deeply.
To grow patiently.
To become rooted without becoming closed.
To let trees teach me how to be more human.

Belatedly honouring Saint David the Dendrite.

May we all grow deeper roots, softer hearts, and lives that offer shade and shelter to others.

#WildNatureTherapy #SaintDavidTheDendrite #TreeDweller #Thessaloniki #NameDay NatureSpirituality TreesAsTeachers SlowLiving ForestWisdom
I’ve been thinking about St George. 23 April wa I’ve been thinking about St George.

23 April was St George’s Day, and this year it touched something deeper in me. I had planned to be walking through the mountains of Lebanon, but that journey had to be cancelled again because of the growing hostilities in the Middle East.

Instead, I found myself learning more about the saint whose story belongs not only to England, but deeply to the eastern Mediterranean -  to Palestine, Lebanon, and the lands where Christianity first took root.

George was a Christian martyr of the early Church, believed to be buried in Lydda (Lod). His name comes from the Greek Georgios -  earth-worker, tiller of the soil.

There is something beautiful in that.

The brave earth-worker
doing heavenly work on earth.

In Beirut, tradition says St George slew the dragon near the Beirut River. Whether taken literally or symbolically, the meaning still speaks:

Courage facing fear.
Light confronting darkness.
The innocent defended.
Faith standing firm.

For Christians, St George has long symbolised courage, sacrifice, steadfast faith, and victory over evil.

Perhaps that is why his story still endures.

The dragons we face today are rarely mythical. They may be war, despair, fear, division, or the darkness that enters hearts and nations.

Yet the call remains the same:

Stand with courage.
Protect what is vulnerable.
Keep faith when the world trembles.
Do heavenly work with earthly hands.

St George, the earth-worker.
May we each find the strength to face the dragons of our own age.

#StGeorge #StGeorgesDay #Lebanon #FaithAndCourage #EasternChristianity
Morning Norfolk Island matcha at @prinke.ecostore Morning Norfolk Island matcha at @prinke.ecostore
The Norfolk Island pines are never far away. 

#prinkeecostore 
#wildnaturetherapy 
#norfolkislandpinematcha
#norfolkisland
Norfolk Island tree ferns are reputedly the talles Norfolk Island tree ferns are reputedly the tallest in the world, measured up to 25 metres in height. 

It is incredible to see them rise through the Norfolk Island pines on impossibly thin trunks bursting into a canopy of fine lacy fronds. 

##norfolkisland 
#norfolkislandtreefern
#norfolkislandnaturally 
#wildnaturetherapy
Palm Glen #norfolkisland #norfolkislandnaturally Palm Glen

#norfolkisland 
#norfolkislandnaturally
Norfolk Island's rugged coastline provides a basti Norfolk Island's rugged coastline provides a bastion against the incessant wild ocean wind and waves.

#norfolkisland
There is something about Norfolk Island that I am There is something about Norfolk Island that I am still trying to understand…
and perhaps it is not something to be understood so much as felt.

An island shaped by wind, ocean, isolation - and time.
And in turn, a people shaped by all of it.

You walk through the forests here and notice it almost immediately: not just the beauty, but the stillness. A quiet that feels deeper than the absence of sound.

Yes, there are birds - red robins flickering through the understorey, golden whistlers calling softly, grey fantails dancing through the trees, and somewhere, if you are still enough, the rare Norfolk Island green parrot.

But beneath it all… there is a hush.
An ancient spacious silence.

This island is young in geological time, and impossibly remote. Everything that lives here had to arrive across vast stretches of ocean - by wind, by wing, by chance. Life came sparingly.

And yet, what remains feels intentional.

The Norfolk Island Pines rise like sentinels. Towering tree ferns unfurl in the valleys. Ancient plant lineages thrive on young land in the middle of a vast sea.

And then there are the people. Kind, warm, welcoming - but quietly resolute. Because when you live surrounded by ocean on all sides, independence is not an idea. It is a way of being.

Perhaps that is what I am beginning to understand.

The silence of Norfolk Island is not emptiness.
It is presence.

The island shapes the people.
The people shape the island.
And somewhere between the two, 
something rare still lives.

These images reflect these aspects of the island:

- the pines whos ancient lineages that predates flowering plants.

- ancient trees ferns that reach impossible heights , an example of island gigantism. 

- the Messenger Tree which served as a community notice board for remote communities on the island to communicate. 

- a bust of Queen Victoria - a reminder of the sacred promise she made to the Pitcairn Islanders and their self-rule.

- Hands Up For Democracy - protest art installation. It is a visible, public display of community opposition to the Australian government's abolition of Norfolk Island's self-governing status in 2015–2016.

#norfolkisland

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