Why I Embroider
Needle and thread offer me a way to translate what I see and feel in my garden — the hum of life, the passing of seasons, the soft chaos of wildness — into something lasting. I’ve stitched since I was a little girl, taught by my mother and grandmother, and it’s always been a place of calm for me. A way to be present. A kind of meditation, though I never called it that.
My background in environmental science means I see embroidery not just as decoration, but as a way to gently teach and celebrate what we still have: bees, dandelions, hoverflies, hedgerows. Every piece I make is rooted in real species, drawn from field guides and sketched freehand, often with an erasable pen or a humble eyebrow pencil.
Even the tiniest bee is crafted with care — a reminder that beauty lives in the details.
There’s so much we’re losing to habitat destruction and climate change. My work is my quiet protest, my love letter to the natural world.
It’s a way of saying: Look closer. This matters.My garden is my muse — buzzing, blooming, never quite tidy. It’s where I stitch, where I watch, and where I let the work begin.
‘and blossom haunting bee are never weary of their melody ‘
by John Clare, the Northamptonshire peasant poet .
‘There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground’
Rumi
