Melanie Murphy: lockdown walks and nature's healing power

In her latest novel, social media sensation-turned-author Melanie Murphy writes about nature - a theme that is close to her heart. Here, she writes about the long lockdown walks that helped her cope throughout the Covid crisis

Sat, 07 May, 2022 - 06:00

Melanie Murphy

Enchanting birdsong was the sound of April 2020 - the dawn of my reconnection with nature and consequently, the best mental health chapter of my life. I first noticed the striking absence of man-made sound in the weeks before, as Leo announced the first Covid lockdown.

All I could think about during that speech was the fact that all of our preparations for our wedding that week were in tatters; the wine for the reception was in the boot of our car, the venue was paid for, guests coming from abroad had already checked in for their flights. My Dad recalls me hurling the TV remote at the wall and screaming at the top of my lungs. It wasn’t just the sense of loss (money, time, energy, memories we wouldn’t get to make) or the pregnancy hormones (I was nearing the end of my first trimester), it was this crippling fear, of the known and the unknown.

I was even too afraid to breathe the same air as my fiancé, who at the time was flying in and out of Italy four times a week for work, in the middle of that terrible first wave of coronavirus. Anxiety had me by the throat while my ability to manage it, by going to the gym and socialising with friends, was taken away. Or so I thought.

Remember those walks we all forced ourselves to go on, just to have something to look forward to in the day that wasn’t a Zoom call or junk food? I was out on one of those. Face stinging and hands sweating, pregnant and utterly terrified, I pounded the pavement, thoughts swirling at a 100 miles an hour. On through the tunnel I marched till I was outside the town, where the trees mostly hung out, like they’d summoned me there. And then that choir of birdsong caught my attention, held it, played with it, re-opening a door that had long vanished.

This sound was a catalyst for healing that I didn’t even realise I needed and as the daily walk became a non-negotiable feature of lockdown life, I found myself growing less anxious. More present. I’d take in the perfume of the flowers and the moisture in the air. I’d spot tiny white mushrooms right after they’d popped up from the earth, beside insects I hadn’t noticed since childhood. I’d reach out and touch leaves, wordlessly whispering hello and I hope you’re well. It was bizarre, really. I had this urge to walk around the garden barefoot, to get down to where the ladybugs were.

I had been missing the natural world from my very sedentary, indoor life. This reconnection with nature inspired me in my writing of my latest novel, Glass Houses, where two of my central characters, sisters Rosie and Jenna reluctantly get involved in a community garden project and find the healing power of nature helps them reconnect with the outside world and one another.

Melanie Murphy: "To nurture another living thing, to keep it alive, it helps me to feel less caught up in my problems." Pic: Lucy Nuzum

We evolved outside. Our ancestors were completely intertwined with the natural world: they hunted, they built shelters, they walked incredibly long distances instead of driving around in cars. Of course, it makes total sense that spending time outside, be it in the back garden, or at a local park or forest or beach, provides many of us that feeling of coming home, of being caged birds set free. The need to be in the natural world, co-existing not only other people but with other species, is deep rooted in our evolutionary history, and the act of engaging with it is incredibly beneficial for mental health. When you spend time in nature your heart rate slows, as does your breathing, your cortisol literally decreases. Four decades of research have produced an impressive body of studies displaying the benefits of connection with nature, yet it took a bloody lockdown to really open my eyes to them.

After years of staring at screens and staying up all night, I started submerging my body in the freezing ocean. I started reading about the many joys of gardening, that thing I always rolled my eyes at, thinking: how boring can you be?

For a time, I even listened to nature sounds at night as I drifted off to sleep. And then my son was born, the little boy who would become my greatest teacher. Seeing him grow has somehow enhanced my relationship with nature even more. Watching him figuring things out, putting his hands in the dirt, jumping in puddles and laughing at dandelions, it’s pure, unfiltered joy. We were lucky enough to buy our first house this year and weather permitting, I spend at least two hours a day outside in our gardens with the little one in tow. I have several beautiful plants that I tend to in our conservatory. It’s been wonderful to watch the bougainvillea that we inherited from the previous owners of our home flowering from bare winter branches.

To nurture another living thing, to keep it alive, it helps me to feel less caught up in my problems and gives me a sense of meaning. I watch my flowers and trees change and grow and they remind me every day that I’m alive, that I’m changing, that I’m growing, that I have that capacity. When the wedding was cancelled and when my husband almost lost his job with his airline, when I went months without seeing family and when I gave birth without the support that I felt I desperately needed, I felt the world shrink around me, and that made all of these experiences all the more excruciating. They felt so heavy on my shoulders. But during my lockdown walks, I was reminded - by the birdsong and the light shining through the trees - that our challenges weren’t so heavy in the grand scheme of things… in fact, they appeared relatively small compared to the expansive landscape surrounding me. I suddenly felt part of something much bigger than myself. That feeling is still a great comfort to this day.