Letter #2 – On Nature, Creativity, and Slowing Down
This is my first letter to Charlie Rumsby, as part of our project to document the unfolding of a friendship online. If you have missed Charlie’s first letter to me, you can read it here. You can now also subscribe directly to the letters feed if you’d like to receive those only.
Letter #2 – 14 February 2025
Dear Charlie,
What a wonderful way to start the year —with a hike. “Begin as you mean to go on,” as the saying goes. Does this mean you intend to go on more hikes this year? And if so, would it be breaking the rules of our experiment if I were to join you?
I love the idea of hiking as a reunion. There’s something about walking that sharpens my mind. It helps me express myself more clearly. I find that walking, and by extension running, keeps me sane physically and mentally. I really enjoyed reading about your walk in the Peak District. It brought back memories of my own time on Kinder Scout.
I bagged an Ethel unknowingly
A couple of years ago, I hiked up Kinder Scout, the highest of the Ethels (not to brag). Beyond its height, it holds a significant place in history as the site of a mass trespass, where over 400 walkers defied land restrictions in a protest that sparked public outrage (one of the leaders went to prison for essentially walking in nature). That, fuelled the right-to-roam movement.
Coming from Switzerland, where I was born, the idea of restricted access to nature feels especially absurd. In Switzerland, forests and uncultivated land are open to the public, even when privately owned. Aside from a few exceptions, like military zones or active farmland, access is largely unrestricted.
Downgrading your phone
I’ve considered it many times myself. But it always felt too extreme and ultimately unsustainable. I often see people on Instagram making grand announcements about leaving the platform, only to return within weeks. It’s unsettling to realize just how deep the addiction runs. Google’s suggested search results highlight the paradox of that relationship too. Campaigns like "Phone-free February" suggest making your phone as boring as possible—by deleting apps, disabling notifications, turning off autoplay, and even switching to a grayscale display—while also encouraging screen-time limits.
Taking inspiration from Katherine May, I’ve been honouring my own rhythms this January. I retreated indoors and allowed myself to move at my own pace rather than bending to the city's. In that stillness, I noticed the light lingering a little longer each evening, a quiet reminder that we are in control of our own destiny if we just calm down for a second. In that spirit, I wrote about the beauty of doing nothing with friends, arguing about the importance of casual hangouts, something that’s incredibly difficult to achieve in a city like London. I’m now gently emerging from my hibernation with a trip to Paris next week.
The Almanac
Thankfully, I didn’t do it alone, I had a new companion: The Almanac. These centuries-old publications were the Internet of their time, offering guidance on everything from moon phases and gardening tips to poetry and recipes.
I recently fell down a rabbit hole researching them and discovered that England’s earliest almanac was published in 1656 and, incredibly, you can buy a copy online for £950. Today, The Almanac: A Seasonal Guide to the Year Ahead carries on the tradition, written by Lia Leendertz, who also shares her insights through her Substack newsletter, Lia’s Living Almanac.
In the U.S., The Old Farmer’s Almanac has been published every September since 1792, making it the oldest continuously published periodical in North America (that’s a point for your next pub quiz). More recently, in 2022, artist Ana Ratner introduced The Other Almanac, a modern take that weaves contemporary knowledge and culture into the traditional format, a brilliant idea, in my opinion. I’d love to work on a British equivalent someday.
Arts & Crafts
During my time indoors, I’ve watched an incredible amount of films, probably more than at any other point in my life, except maybe my teenage years. I’ve picked two favourites for you: Anora and A Real Pain. Both equally entertaining and thought-provoking. I’ve also discovered a newfound love for crafts.
It all began on February 1st with the tradition of making St. Brigid’s Cross. I’ve since read a bit more about St. Brigid of Kildare and discovered that Ireland only recently declared St. Brigid’s Day a public holiday—the first official holiday named after a woman in the country. St. Brigid is an incredibly inspiring figure. She lived on her own terms, cared for the land and brewed beer from lakes (what’s not to like). I’d love to attend Kildare’s celebrations next year.
I also attended a free weaving workshop led by artist Tom Lewis, where I learned to make clove hitch knots, compass plait, and arrow plait. It’s much easier than it looks and very satisfying. Now, I’m diving into linocut printing to design our wedding invitations—excited to see where it takes me.
The sun finally made an appearance today after nearly ten days, making me want to drop everything and lie in the grass (except it’s still 5 degrees outside). Spring is just 33 days away, and soon, deep nostalgia will set in. But that’s a story for another letter.
That’s all for now, thank you for reading.
Happy Galentine’s Day.
Take care,
Alice