We went camping to Paracas over the Easter weekend. After the usual last-minute irritable rush to pack the car, we threaded our way to the Panamericana and were soon cruising along it at a smooth 100 clicks, the wind grabbing our hair in fistfuls and flinging it back in our faces. I've noticed that the greater the distance between us and our house, the more carefree we become. It’s not that we’re miserable at home – far from it – but it’s often a relief to temporarily escape

My nature writing colleague, Mary (curator at eco-fiction.com), writes in her blog that, for Earth Hour tonight, she's going to indulge in a bout of solar-powered reading, outdoors, in a hammock. Her words reminded me that, all this week, the kids have been coming home saying things like “Mica’s family is doing Earth Hour, Mum! Are we?” It’s the first time they’ve been so excited about this symbolic event. I know it’s partly because their new school places particular emphasis

This week, I’m letting somebody else speak for me - had the author been alive today, I like to think she wouldn’t have minded my sharing her work. Below are excerpts from Rachel Carson’s poignant essay Help Your Child to Wonder, published in the July 1956 issue of Woman’s Home Companion (priced at the time at 35 cents; a bargain when you consider the immeasurable value of the words inside). As a woman who’s approaching middle age (one’s 40's isn’t middle age yet, right?), I f