At 19, I turned down the chance to play county netball because my boyfriend didn't want me to be away that much. Looking back, I wasn't choosing love. I was practising ignoring my own intuition. For a lot of my adult life, I did things to keep partners happy - I turned down playing Netball for West Devon because my then boyfriend thought it would take me away from him for too long. I went to University in Exeter instead of further afield because that same boyfriend wanted to be near me. (He got kicked to the curb soon after I started Uni ;) ) I went to Lanzarote because of a man. Germany instead of Greece because of, you’ve guessed it, a man and really if I’m honest, most decisions up to around 13 years ago were made or moulded because of what a partner wanted. And why? Because I wanted to people please. I wanted to keep them happy. I went against every ounce of intuition that was clawing at me. These days, the older I get, the less interested I’ve become in collecting other people’s opinions. I ask my partner for feedback, but he’d never dream of telling me what to do. All my decisions used to be made with the wellbeing of another at the forefront of my mind. Never did I put myself up top. And decisions were often made so that I didn’t experience another guilt trip from the other side. Over the last few years, I’ve been in the advantageous position of having a partner who supports me in every decision I make. That’s resulted in me making mostly good decisions - way better than I have made in the past. The problem is, and this spills into many areas of life, we’ve become addicted to outsourcing certainty. We Google symptoms before we’ve even noticed how our body actually feels. We ask strangers on the internet what they think before we’ve finished thinking ourselves. We consume podcasts, YouTube videos, newsletters and experts until our own inner voice is drowned out by everyone else’s. Ironically, we’ve never had more information and we’ve never seemed less sure.

I love the Spring and Autumn. But the last 2 weeks of May and the first 2 weeks of June have you be my favourite time of the year.

OK Ragwort - tell everyone in the skool a little about yourself. BTW - old Raggy here has a question for you at the bottom. 🌼 Ragwort: The Plant Everyone Loves to Hate Poor old ragwort. Bright yellow, impossible to ignore at this time of year, and accused of being the villain of every field it dares to grow in. Or in my case, all over my garden. If plants had PR agencies, ragwort would definitely be suing for defamation. Yes, it's poisonous to livestock if eaten in quantity, particularly when dried into hay. But left alone in the wild, horses and cattle generally avoid it because they tend to instinctively know what's good for them. Humans, on the other hand, have a remarkable talent for ignoring instinct and then acting surprised by the consequences. Working in a pub for a number of years has validated that for me countless times over. What most people don't realise is that ragwort is one of the most important plants for insects. More than 170 species use it, and for the Cinnabar moth, it's everything. Without ragwort, there is no Cinnabar caterpillar. Nature, as ever, is playing a far cleverer game than we are. I've only ever seen that particular moth a handful of times. And it's spectacular! Folklore wasn't overly keen on ragwort either. In parts of Britain it was associated with witches, spirits and the fae. Some believed bringing it into the house invited bad luck. Others called it St James's Wort because it flowers around St James's Day at the end of July, when summer is beginning its slow turn towards autumn. Personally, I really like that. Not the bad luck bit. The reminder. July always feels endless until, all of a sudden, the blackberries start forming, swallows gather on the wires and you find yourself secretly yearning for night time temperatures that allow a nice snuggly duvet. Ragwort stands there like a little yellow marker saying, "Nothing stays still forever." Which is probably why I like it. That, and its vibrant yellow flowers. It's the things that are misunderstood that often turn out to be the things holding the whole ecosystem together.