Where did it begin?

Many years ago, Karel and I bought an unusual piece of agricultural land. It was steep, awkward, overgrown with thorny bushes and nettles, and probably not what most people would dream of owning. But there was / is an old oak tree that gave us shade on that very hot day that we first went to view it. The land had been left largely untouched for years. It is difficult to explain, but from the moment I first stepped onto the property, it spoke to me. It anchored me. There was no electricity, no running water, and certainly no charming French stone cottage. Yet I fell completely in love with it and have remained so ever since.

We go there every holiday, starting off by Karel doing his rounds with the brushcutter to get rid of some nettles and other stingy stuff. And then we just laze around. We eat too much (tartlettes). And cheese. We ignore time. We lie on our backs counting the shooting stars... and we dream with our eyes open. Every summer we have friends or family over for a few days and we'll make fire and talk about things we never seem to talk about. As the years passed, it feels as I've grown roots there, as if I want to stay forever. Also my imagination began to wander off into all sorts of directions. What if I should share this place with others? Friends and family all seem to experience the same feeling... they enjoy the simplicity, the lack of pretence, the sense that time slows down and life becomes wonderfully uncomplicated.

I had been running a herbal medicine practice for a while up to a point where I reached a stand-still. There I was, guiding people back towards nature through the use of medicinal plants, encouraging them to reconnect with the natural world and recognise how essential it is to our wellbeing. Yet I had become disconnected from it myself. Day after day I sat in my consultation room behind a computer, lacking the one thing in life that makes me tick... nature. A daily walk with my dog in the city park could never, ever make up for what I missed so deeply.

I found myself doing a serious personal stocktake. Who am I? What are my skills? What do I genuinely have to offer? And perhaps not unimportantly, how can I make a living while staying true to myself? I am not a 'retreat' person. I am more of a hands-on, practical, barefoot, no-nonsense sort. I love pottering in the garden, wandering off to forage and creating things with my hands. Sometimes those things are useful or beautiful (to me), sometimes edible, and often medicinal. I thrive when I work without constant pressure or rigid rules. I've realised, I have something to give. I cannot think of a better way to spend my days than sharing knowledge in a place where I'm rooted!

The big question though, was whether Églanterre, my rugged beauty, was workshop-worthy. It is nothing like the groomed spaces offered by many... which kept me hanging for a while, not sure whether it was indeed suitable for what I had in mind. When a friend asked me whether a building, an establisched herb garden, water and electricity was such a big deal, it hit me, that is exactly the beauty of it, the lack of refinement. Of course, some compromises had to be made. Practical is practical, and certain activities require certain facilities. So Karel and I have created a few usable (level) spaces on sloped territory, and starting a small herb garden that I hope will one day evolve into a food forest. Throughout it all, we have worked hard to keep the place off-grid and to preserve its character as much as possible.

In the meantime, I hosted my first workshop.

And may I say... it was as close to magic as it gets.That weekend felt like a perfect expression of what I hope to create: a gathering place for people who want to be in a green space, speak the language of nature, learn practical skills, and simply enjoy the freedom of being themselves.