In the last couple of weeks, the heat has finally returned to our little patch of Hampshire earth. Some of the plants (clematis, salvia, nasturtiums) have reached the stage where you feel you can see their growth daily. And with the sun’s return, I too seem to be waking up.

Since November, I have had a list above my desk labelled ‘for winter’. It includes things like ‘mustard yellow woolly socks’, ‘vitamin D tablets’, ‘fire pit’. It quotes a favoured line from a Jenny King poem, ‘The midday peace is warm and edible’*. And it reminds me to keep reading. 

There have been a lot of books through winter (a season I understand intellectually but rage against to my bones). These are three of them. Three books, three women, three contexts; the stories they weave join dots in my mind and are manifold. They are all part memoir, but they are also much more. Tracking the history of land, of roots, of connection. Of learning and of changing. They have been good for me. You may like them too. 

‘Rootbound: Rewilding a Life’ by Alice Vincent

Part botanical history, part memoir of learning to grow plants in the midst of personal upheaval, I first read this in January 2020. In February 2020, it inspired a spontaneous detour to the community gardens of Bonnington Square in Vauxhall, London. That trip made me five minutes late to meet a friend. She was unbothered. I remain gratified, particularly as that was the last time I would walk in central London for years because of the pandemic. It was a good green memory for the times that followed. And the book, which I’ve picked up again since, is a lovely, tender read. 

‘Unearthed: On Race and Roots, and How the Soil taught Me I Belong’ by Claire Ratinon

Claire Ratinon beautifully and thoughtfully braids her own story as a diasporic woman of colour with the history of Mauritius, the island of her parents and grandparents. I learned so much from Claire and was humbled by her generosity and vulnerability in how she unpacks and explores relationships with the earth, ideas of belonging, feelings of home. Plus, the paperback copy has just come out so this is a particularly good time to give it some love. 

‘Earthed: A Memoir’ by Rebecca Schiller

Turns out, the simple life may not be that. Rebecca Schiller’s book details her family’s move to a countryside smallholding, followed unexpectedly by her mental health deterioration and search for a diagnosis. In that plot and the surrounding land, she seeks to learn not just of herself but of the women who preceded her there. She manages to be both unflinching and fanciful – in a good way – as she locates herself as well as her heritage along the way. 

Three stories. Three writers. Three titles that at first glance on the bookshelf could seem like gentle contradictions or a horticulture in-joke, but they seem to me to live well together. 

And a short and sweet return to this writing space. But now, I’m going outside. Because the midday peace is certainly warm. And is surely edible.

* from the poem ‘Walking Through Slack’

If you like the sound of these, you can check out them out on Bookshop, which supports independent booksellers. I get a small cut from each sale. But maybe check out your local library first?