Thought Number 8 A Cool Evening and a Step into the Past
Sometimes a mat of fibrous yellow roots comes away from the damp crumbly soil but that level of attention will have to wait until winter. We’re hoping to encourage a woodland edge flora underneath the outgrown hedge line of hazel and hawthorn– Red Campion, Foxglove, Wood Avens, Cow Parsley, Stitchwort, Hairy Woundwort and Ground Ivy to name a few which are common in this area.
The air feels a cool blue, the moor is purple in the distance and the sky is shot through with vapour trails. I can feel autumn around the corner, there is a papery sound in the sycamores, the tips of their leaves turning a dull brown. A bee is taking shelter in an old post and I can hear the loud rat-tat-tat of a wren in a nearby thicket. I watch a buzzard drop in a vertical plunge toward the ground.
The landscape around here has probably not changed much for centuries, the pattern of small fields, woods and streams have been in place for a good long while, though at one time the woods on the opposite hill were in cultivation. On some days in the winter when the sun catches it at the right moment you can see the skeleton of small strip fields, marked out by larger trees where their boundaries were.
There has definitely been a farm here since the 1600’s, and probably way before that too, as it’s a place with sun on it’s face and a water supply. Being here, you can’t help but think of all the people and animals that have gone before, for everywhere you look is a reminder of the past, from the shape of the land to an iron strap on a barn door or a stone wall made with hands which are long since buried.