Spring arrives quietly before it arrives visibly.

Before the blossom, before the new growth, before anything breaks through the surface, something is already happening underground. The soil is doing its work. The mycelium networks are exchanging. The invisible relationships that determine whether anything can flourish are either healthy or they are not.

I have been thinking about this since returning from Anthropy26 at the Eden Project last month, where the first session that Lucy Kidd, James Renwick and I participated in was on soil health. A panel exploring what lives beneath the surface and what makes growth possible. What makes it impossible.

The line that stayed with me was simple: the health of what is visible depends entirely on the quality of what is invisible beneath it. A true collaboration.

I have been sitting with that in relation to leadership ever since.

The willow and what it teaches

April’s tree is the willow.

The willow grows near water. It seeks it out, puts its roots down close to rivers and streams, draws its nourishment from what runs beneath. And yet for all that groundedness, it is one of the most flexible trees we have. In high wind, it does not resist. It bends, dramatically and fully, and then it returns. The branches sweep low, the whole tree moves, and nothing breaks.

There is a kind of wisdom in that. Roots deep enough to allow real flexibility. Stability that does not require rigidity.

I think often about what it means to lead like that. To be grounded enough in your values, your sense of self, your relationships, that you can bend when circumstances demand it. That you do not have to harden in order to hold. That flexibility and strength are not opposites but partners.

The willow also does not grow alone. Along riverbanks, you rarely see just one. They lean together, roots intertwined beneath the surface, creating something the individual tree could not manage on its own.

The conversations that have not happened

In my work with leaders and their teams, I often find that what is most affecting the quality of how people work together is not what is on the agenda. It is what is not being said. The trust that has quietly frayed. The conversation that keeps getting deferred. The relationship that needs tending but there is never quite the right moment.

These are the invisible things. And just like the soil, they are not separate from what is growing above ground. They are the conditions for it.

When people feel genuinely heard, when there is enough safety to think out loud and enough trust to disagree well, even the most difficult challenges become navigable. When that foundation is absent, even talented, committed people struggle to do their best work together.

On community

Anthropy26 reminded me how much we need each other. Not just professionally, not just as networks or collaborators, but as human beings trying to do good work in a complex world. The conversations that stayed with me longest were the ones that happened on the edges, walking between sessions, sitting with someone I had only just met and deepening a connection

Community is not a backdrop to the work. It is part of the work. When we are held by people who understand what we are carrying, we think more clearly, lead more generously, and recover more quickly when things are hard.

Like the willow on the riverbank, we are more resilient together than we are alone.

Side by side

At the Eden Project, the environment itself shifted the quality of conversation. Walking between the Biomes, up and down the steep paths, moving together outdoors, the conversations were different. More honest, somehow. More spacious.

When we move side by side, something loosens. The body relaxes. The usual social choreography of face-to-face conversation falls away. There is room for a different kind of thinking. I have believed this for a long time and built it into the heart of my practice.

The land is not a backdrop. It is a mirror.

An invitation: Nourish and Nurture

In May, I am collaborating with life coach Katy Beechey for a women’s day retreat at The Grain Store in Lewes, set in the South Downs. The day begins with a walk and talk through the landscape — the kind of side-by-side, season-connected conversation I have always found quietly transformative. By then, early morning mist gives way to oxeye daisies and poppies. It is a good path to be on.

The afternoon brings reflective exercises with Katy, exploring what you might want to reawaken in yourself as spring moves towards summer. And then something quietly joyful: floral stylist Amy Bell will guide you in making a hand-tied posy of Sussex-grown garden blooms to take home.

Field Food will serve a seasonal, locally sourced lunch, and The Grain Store offers both quiet corners for reflection and communal spaces to gather.

The intention, and the biggest wish, is that you leave feeling nurtured, nourished and valued.

Tickets and details here.