Our interactions with trees nourish our inner life, even at the darkest times.
"A midwinter spring, of sorts, / the day you died. . ."
A good winter walk can be found almost anywhere, and the rules are few - but worth observing.
The Polish for “barn owl”, płomykówka, evokes the birds’ flame-like plumage - and their presence evokes old magic.
For Gavin Francis, medicine is “a skeleton key to open doors ordinarily closed”, and his latest book is as illuminating as it is enjoyable.
I held the rock in my hand during the crossing, an anchor to Earth that would remind me of its granular, varied textures and colours, even as I saw the entirety in abstract patterns from above.
It’s not the best way to see the land, travelling at this speed – it never was: walking has always been the appropriate pace for contemplation – but it can still be a pleasure.
On a rock in the Atlantic, I felt the magic of place.
Mary Schäffer's botanical watercolours evoked the perishability of the plants she studied, solo, after her husband's death.
Eventually, we will have to recognise that it is not “nature” that we need to protect, but ourselves.
The New Statesman goes behind the froth of daily headlines to look at the people and the passions shaping our world.
Be well-informed. Be a New Statesman reader.