There are moments when a relationship changes almost imperceptibly. Nothing dramatic has happened. No betrayal. No shouting. No obvious breach of trust. And yet something essential has shifted. For a long time I struggled to explain what that shift felt like. Then, over several conversations, a sentence appeared. It is
This week I found myself watching films about re-greening projects. Australia. Scotland. Saudi Arabia. Arizona. Different climates. Different cultures. Yet the first gesture is often the same. Someone builds a small check dam. Not a great engineering project. Just enough stones, branches, or earth to slow the rain as
This morning it’s raining. By the time I leave for work it will already have stopped, most probably. It reminds me of another recent morning when I stepped onto the wrong tram. I had looked for the familiar coloured destination display and, distracted for a moment, followed the red
This week I noticed a sticker on a security guard's water bottle holder. Machen ist wie Planen, nur krasser. Doing is like planning, only more intense. It made me laugh. There is something wonderfully practical about it. And something true. For a long time, I have been planning.
A curious thing happens after a few weeks. The work stops feeling like a project. At first every post feels significant. You wonder if it is good enough. You wonder if anyone will read it. You wonder whether you should redesign the website, change the headline, learn more about email
Most stories have trained us to expect a reveal. You climb the hill and there is a castle. You open the door and there is a treasure. You turn the corner and finally understand everything. But most walks are not like that. A few years ago my wife and I
Every walk has a moment. Not at the beginning, when you're still deciding whether to bring a jacket. Not at the end, when you can already see the car park. Somewhere in the middle. The trail bends. And beyond that bend you cannot see. My wife and I
Near where I live there are trails marked with yellow diamonds. When I first started walking them, I assumed they marked a single route. Only after several walks did I realize they were part of a network. At a crossroads, a yellow diamond might point one way and a red
Some people quietly hold things together. They remember birthdays. They bring the extra chair. They notice when someone is having a hard day. They take the call. They make the soup. They carry the shopping. They keep the conversation going after an argument. They help things continue. Often, nobody notices.
This is Field Notes from the Orchard, a brand new site by Scott MacLeod that's just getting started. Things will be up and running here shortly, but you can subscribe in the meantime if you'd like to stay up to date and receive emails when new