Despite the protection of the mountains all around, today the wind roars in harmony with the great River Wye creating a cacophony of sound and movement that is both overwhelming and soothing; this place is a mosaic of flying golden leaves and flocks of thrushes and other birds filling the skies, and every level is transformed.  It is impossible to control this natural force of beautiful nature that takes over every autumn, and I will not try: equally, nature will never try to control me.

A two acre plot in a remote part of the Upper Wye valley has been my home for 18 years, and my focus of attention from the start has been to transform it from a much-admired weed-free and highly controlled show garden to a place that is a haven for wildlife.

I write to you as the Easter Full Moon prepares to comes into its climax this weekend and as the memory of a powerful March Equinox swirls around us still. 

All over my garden, wars are erupting over ownership.  Ducks, owls, stock doves and squirrels are arguing over the use of a barn owl box (the owl is winning) while blackbirds squabble about territory and dunnocks like many birds fight over mates and the best nesting place.  There is much noise, much activity and within it all a respect for the natural hierarchy of nature and of life which brings, ultimately, acceptance and settling.

In September I try to cut back the patches of meadow that have grown unchecked throughout the spring and summer in my wildlife garden, when most of the wildflowers are spent, preparing the ground for the year to come.

Every day, red kites and buzzards fly around an old tree stump in my garden, looking to see if there is food for them to take.  Often there is: besides (safe) scraps that may be left, death is a fact of life in a wildlife garden, and here a vole or any creature that is found dead is placed upon the stump, respectfully, and given the chance of new life through natural recycling. 

In recent days a young heron has been visiting my ponds, hunting in the shallows waiting for a frog or newt to appear.  It is a shy, beautiful creature, a bird of the water and so of feminine emotion and of Spirit.

As Mercury begins his backward movement once again, his disruptive influence is being felt in many ways, overshadowing the days around the celebration of Valentine, the public, and private, time for the expression of love.  In this mode of regression he highlights often uncomfortably what we need to see, confusing our established reality to help us see the truth beneath the illusion.  All noticeable occurrences or coincidences are a lesson or reminder, including that of love. 

It may be that you like me live in a Celtic land, as so many people increasingly are drawn to do.  Wherever you are now, it is probable that you have lived in Scotland, or Wales, or Brittany, or Cornwall, or Ireland or the Isle of Man at some point on your long soul journey.  The Celtic influence was strong too throughout much more of Europe in ancient times, and you may have been a part of it there also.

Autumn is lingering here in the Cambrian Mountains:  leaves are magnificent in their fire colours still, and the trees that carry them are bedecked with a multitude of berry jewels, so many that the flocks of fieldfares and redwings arriving for their winter sanctuary are unable to strip them bare.  The table of nature overflows and there is plenty for everybody.