The Field: Living on the Edge
June 2010 and I felt like I was a most priviledged UK national as I moved onto a 1.5 acre field to live.
There was nothing there except what it had been for a hundred years or so: grass pasture. Grazed a couple of years previously, the grass stood calf high, the year's new seed heads unwrapping from rising stalks. Blue damsel flies florescent bright glanced through the grass heads. Swallows dived from the nearby mature oak trees skimming the grass. Summer was partially on its way.
I moved a small static caravan onto the field with the help of a tractor and driver and bought some black water pipe to connect to the nearby spring.
This blog intends to chart the edge that I skirt between what arguably could be described as an 'over-civilised' human reconnecting with the natural world; and due to the contraints of my residential permission I was required to establish a working partnership with this environment within a framework of living lightly.
There was nothing there except what it had been for a hundred years or so: grass pasture. Grazed a couple of years previously, the grass stood calf high, the year's new seed heads unwrapping from rising stalks. Blue damsel flies florescent bright glanced through the grass heads. Swallows dived from the nearby mature oak trees skimming the grass. Summer was partially on its way.
I moved a small static caravan onto the field with the help of a tractor and driver and bought some black water pipe to connect to the nearby spring.
This blog intends to chart the edge that I skirt between what arguably could be described as an 'over-civilised' human reconnecting with the natural world; and due to the contraints of my residential permission I was required to establish a working partnership with this environment within a framework of living lightly.