Hello, I am so glad you have found your way here… I’m Lyndsay — mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR.
Step inside Story & Thread., a cosy, layered home where the threads of creativity, interiors and mothering meet. Here, we unearth the stories from the seasons of our lives, with a house & a garden at the heart, and everyday beauty as our guide…
“spring will come
with its long light
and lessons
of how we need some seasons
of darkness in order to bloom”
—Emory Hall.
Dearest reader…
As we move towards the end of February, I have been reflecting on this stark, muted season — how it has felt this year, and the subtle magic that has been simmering in the darkness. I share my thoughts both as a video above, and in writing below.
I am finding it helpful to reflect on each season as it passes, rather than attempting to look back on an entire year. Breaking things down into manageable pieces seems to make sense and steer me away from overwhelm. Whilst I glance towards spring (and of course, the inevitable ‘winterspring’ chapter that comes before…), I am holding the experience of winter in both hands — noticing how it has seeped into my skin and taken up space in my heart, savouring the cosiness it has afforded and the permission it has given me to live quietly — before there is a notable shift as the light lengthens, the ground softens, and colour returns to our days.
By reflecting on the season that has gone before, I am able to appreciate its intricacies, fully absorb its tone and timbre, and integrate its gifts and lessons, before moving onwards. As each season unfolds, I become more aware that each stage is not separate but an inherent, deeply ingrained aspect of the next — that no season can exist without the one before, that moving forward doesn’t always mean letting go entirely, that we are inextricably woven into a continuous cycle of growth.
In the darkness of December.
In December we were enveloped in a velvety darkness with a dash of festive sparkle. We woke, and returned home in the dark, with only a small window of half-light in between.
“We talk so much of light, please
let me speak on behalf
of the good dark. Let us
talk more of how dark
the beginning of a day is”.
—Maggie Smith, How Dark the Beginning.
There is comfort in knowing that most things begin in the dark. I have loved the inky darkness of the winter mornings — the dawn, a slow unveiling as pastel shades were scattered across the sky. The morning mayhem unfolded upon a beautiful backdrop of borrowed light — from street lamps outside, from candles and corners of light at home, and the very gradually shifting watercolour sky.
*How you have communed with the dark this winter? Has it been unwelcome, or have you found it to be enveloping and comforting?
The magical in-between.
The in-between, liminal days at the end of December and beginning of January is a time when winter seeps into my soul and becomes a state of being. Days spent at home and in the garden, were punctuated with festive trips into the twinkly lights of London, well after the hoards of busy Christmas shoppers had left. It's a time when the world seems to slow down and rest becomes a collective priority. Led by
’s Winter Talisman Retreat based around the Celtic tradition of the Omen Days, I was led to unexpected symbols and totems of winter emerging from the mist.Read more here about the traditions associated with the in-between days,
*What have been your winter treasures?
A softer January.
The beginning of January always feels abrupt to me — as the middle month of winter, it is not the time to be restricting anything, or making any firm decisions. It's a time for feeling, not acting. Instead of rigid resolutions, we can lean into softness; instead of restriction, we can sense the expansiveness of possibility; rather than rushing to have everything figured out, we can take our time to ease in slowly.
Read more here,
*How did January feel to you? Do you thrive on the feeling of a fresh new page in January, or do you need longer to orient yourself?
February shimmers.
During February, there is a tangible lengthening of the light. Spending time out in the garden over the weekend was illuminating, as always. I found myself cutting away old growth to make way for the new, and clearing space to let the light in, whilst being mindful not to trample the growing green shoots, and to leave some things behind to protect the cold earth. As the clouds dispersed on Saturday afternoon, the garden glinted in the sunlight and spring-like days felt within reach.
The glimpse of light prompted me to reach for my seed packets and prepare to sow seeds into soil, just as it feels like the time is coming to kindle the dreams of winter months, and lace them in light.
Read more on late winter here,
*What has been stirring in the darkness? What will you bring into the light?
You are invited…
Holding Stories circle for International Women’s Day 2025.
I am so excited to co-create a Holding Stories circle with
to mark and honour International Women’s Day on 8th March 2025. Our circle is part of a wider collaboration of creatives, Siren Songs — a call to weave your words of wisdom and wonder, and to share the story on your heart this IWD, you can read more here.Within the circle we will combine meaningful words with restorative pauses and reflective contemplation, allowing space to uncover our soul songs, and to gather live amongst a community of creative women across the world.
The details
When: 11am - 12pm (GMT), Saturday 8th March 2025.
Where: In your own personal sanctuary via the wonder of Zoom.
Register your free space below…
Gather & Tend. co-working space.
I am delighted to introduce Gather & Tend., a cosy online co-working space, part of The Beauty Thread., the first will be held just before the tipping of the light as we approach the spring equinox.
Within the session, we will find an anchor in the back and forth of early spring, discover seasonal creative cues to set the tone for the weeks and months ahead, and make space for tending to our own projects, individually but together.
The details
When: 10-11.15am (GMT), Wednesday 19th March 2025.
Where: from the comfort of your own home (or anywhere!) via Zoom.
The first session will be open to all subscribers.
Thank you so much for reading. I would love to know if you too find it helpful to reflect on the season as it passes, and what this winter has meant to you…
I’d love to chat more in the comments, or of course feel free to send me an email, it is always lovely to hear from you.
The Beauty Thread., is a new paid membership within Story & Thread. Through a series of seasonal offerings, The Beauty Thread. is an invitation to notice, hold and create beauty in our own worlds, woven together by the ever-changing seasons, both around us and within us. When we come to know beauty, it transforms us, the onlooker, into an exquisite piece of life’s tapestry. Subscriptions to The Beauty Thread. currently cost £5 per month or £45 per year.
P.S. If you fancy any further winter reading, do check out my most recent posts below…
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