Nature Archives -

I’ve got a bit of a love affair going on with flowers, and it’s growing stronger by the day. I’ve always been an admirer of all things floral, but I think it was around the time that I had Oscar, and I started using Instagram regularly, that I really fell head over heels. When Osc was tiny, like so many other parents I used to go for daily long, long walks with the pram, as for a while it was the only place he’d settle in the daytime. Our walk usually took us past one of the two street flower stalls in York, and treating myself to a bunch of blooms became a bit of a tradition that has stayed with me since then. Rather than buying a pretty mixed posy, I tended to go for one or two different types of stem, usually inexpensive types, and often a bunch of foliage such as ruscus or eucalyptus too. I loved taking them home, unwrapping them and having five quiet minutes to myself to trim each stem and arrange them, appreciating each bloom. It was my little bit of mindfulness in the midst of a chaotic day.

If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know that I love a floral wreath or crown, and with the summer solstice coming up soon I thought it would be nice to share with you how to make your own floral crown to wear. It’s so simple to do, I promise! In Sweden, the summer solstice is widely celebrated and it’s a tradition for women to make and wear floral crowns. That’s a good enough reason for me to as well! I actually took these photos quite a while back, but I never made use of them. I’m going to be making another floral crown this year though, and I will share the finished result on my Instagram – I’m thinking bigger and blousier than the ones I’ve made before!

| How to make your own floral crown

What you’ll need:

A selection of blooms and foliage of varying sizes and complementary colours. I used garden roses, stocks, sweet william, astilbe and jasmine, which are all available at this time of year. Try foraging in your own garden for supplies – you only need a couple of sprigs of each variety.
A short section of stiff florists wire (or any covered wire), cut to length to fit over your head from ear to ear, like an alice band.
Florists tape
Scissors or secateurs
A length of ribbon, around 1m long
Some thin florists wire to secure and larger flower buds (optional)

Florists tape and wire can be found in craft stores or online – I bought mine from Hobbycraft.

| Step 1

Cut your blooms to length. Aim for a 1-2 inch stem. Shorter stems will make a neat, compact crown (but make sure they are still long enough to tape down!) while longer stems, or those of varying length will make a more wild-looking crown.

| Step 2

If you have any larger blooms it can hep to anchor them with thin wire, although you don’t have to do this. Cut around 4 inches or wire and bend in half, like a hair grip. Insert into the centre of the flower, from front to back, and pull so that the wire is concealed. Twist the wire ends. You now have a flower head on a wire stem, which is easier to build into your crown and bend into position.

| Step 3

Take your stiff wire, which is now shaped like an alice band. Wrap the ribbon around the wire, starting from the centre outwards, and tape into place. You should have enough free ribbon on each end to tie around the back of your head.

| Step 4

Start to build your flower crown!

And there you have it! One flower crown, perfect for wearing for summer solstice celebrations, music festivals, photo shoots or just to do the washing up! I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading this and feel inspired to give it a go; if you do make your own floral crown I would absolutely love to see it! You can share it with me by tagging me in your photo on Instagram – I’m @hannah.straughan. I’m thinking of doing a similar post to show you how to make your own winter wreath; it’s using a different method to this, it’s super simple and looks amazing. Let me know if that’s something you’d like to see!

Hannah x

Three Octobers with Oscar – a reflection on the first two years of motherhood

October 20, 2017 4 Comments

There’s a cherry tree in the park opposite our house in York. It’s a bit of a show-off, as far as trees go. In the Spring, heavy clusters of candyfloss-hued blossom drip from each branch, and as their short show comes to an end they create a pink snowstorm whenever the wind blows. In the autumn, the leaves begin to turn, first mottled yellow, ochre and green; then fiery red, before they all fall in a final sigh and leave the ground covered in a scarlet carpet.

Two years ago, I was heavily pregnant with Oscar: my due date passed, then 41 weeks, but he was staying firmly put. I felt enormous, uncomfortable, and incredibly impatient for him to arrive. I paced around the park multiple times every day in those last few days before I became a mother, hoping to bring labour on, but also needing to be close to home as I was getting both strong Braxton Hicks contractions and a very achey lower back. Passing this fiery tree so frequently made me truly appreciate its beauty for the first time, but I didn’t know at the time that I was also creating a strong association between the cherry tree and its vivid hues and my feelings at the time.

One year later, on Oscar’s first birthday, we walked through the park with the majestic cherry tree, dressed in its full autumn grandeur, and a wave of nostalgia hit me like a wall. Tears pricked my eyes when I saw myself in my mind that year earlier, waddling stubbornly through the park, completely clueless to what was about to hit me – I was full of confidence, optimism; I was ready to handle motherhood and all it faced, and refused to relax and embrace my last few days before my life turned upside down. The next few weeks would turn out to be more exhausting, fulfilling, frustrating and joyful — emotionally draining — than I could have ever imagined.

Here I was, now a completely different woman to the stubborn waddler: more resilient, with far more grace then before, perhaps no less stubborn but a lot more willing to accept what I could not change. I felt older, in a good way. I had more appreciation for what was important in my life, and knew to hold those things close and nurture them, and not worry about the rest. I was tired, all the time, but I felt happier in myself than ever before.

This year, I could also see someone else beneath the tree, in the very place where I had stood for a photo, cradling my 41 week bump: the little life changer himself. Angelic, rosy cheeks from the chill in the air, delicious rolls of chubbiness from 365 days of feeding him, delighted squeals as we threw rusty leaves in the air like confetti. It was the first time that I’d really looked at him and also seen myself, pre-motherhood, and the wave of emotions that came over me were overwhelming.

This year, as the leaves started to turn on the tree, I found myself reflecting again; both on Oscar, my autumn baby, and on myself. Oscar is a walking, talking, just-turned-two year old. He is taller and slimmer and has more hair than last year, and his sweet, funny, cheeky and loving personality positively shines. I’m so incredibly proud of him. I’m just as happy, probably more so than last year, but I feel more grounded, less emotionally vulnerable; less like I’m looking frantically for the carpet that was sharply pulled out from under my feet on the day that Oscar was born, than last year.

This year, I’m growing another little life again; a baby brother for Oscar. I often wonder how there could possibly be room in my heart to love another little human as much as I already do Oscar, and also how I will manage with two babies to nurture in a few short weeks. It fills me with excitement, a little apprehension and also determination to do the best I can both by my boys, and Ben, but also to try to not be too hard on myself. I’d really like to be strict on setting lower expectations of myself than I did last time I had a newborn baby, and channel the calm, relaxed mama inside that I know I can tease out if I stay focused on what’s really important, and gently set aside all of those things that are not.

Last year I compiled this short film of Oscar in the days around his birthday, and the mood of it is so deliciously autumnal, I’d love it if you took a look. Right at the very end of the video, there’s a clip where Oscar is up and on his feet like Bambi – those are actually his very first proper steps, caught on camera, hence the huge proud mama grin on my face!

If you can relate to any of this as a mother, I would love to hear your thoughts. If you have more than one baby, how was it different for you the second time? Is autumn a special time of year for you as well?

Hannah x