Bog Myrtle & Peat

Land came up for sale next door, and I heard because somebody had seen the listing on Facebook. For two weeks there were cars parked at the road end and strangers walking back and forth across the hill. I watched them from the window and the pens; some of them in high-viz jackets, and others… Continue reading

A quail called from the willow green shimmer of the newly bearding barley. I’ve heard that sound before, but never in Galloway where the chances of finding such birds are something close to zero. Only the smallest handful of quail come here from their wintering grounds in Africa, and they rarely go much further north… Continue reading

The skylark’s song has stopped for the year. They’ve been fading out for weeks, but now I note the sound is altogether gone. I like to record dates, and I’ve always wanted to discover the moment of the last lark as if to close the bracket on a sound which is so noisily vibrant when… Continue reading

You really need a reason to visit the Burrell Collection. Go without plans and the day will evaporate in a cobweb of diversions and distractions. There’s no theme or coherence to objects drawn together by the Edwardian philanthropist William Burrell, and even the loosest groupings have outriders and oddities which blast the narrative and set… Continue reading

The Severn has considerable clout as it rolls towards Wroxeter. Comfortable in the fatlands of Shropshire, the river has become a deep and complex movement of glides and eddies that is only loosely contained by a cakework of banking. At certain points, the current is frustrated by the presence of crisp and shingled islands. The… Continue reading

I drove the bull to work in the meadow, and we walked together on the quarry road which runs around the river. He’s made this trip before, but the wind blew the scent of cows to remind him. They were hidden in a fold of the bog, but he knew where to find them and… Continue reading

At first I thought he might’ve been weed, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But as I drew my line in closer to the bank, he rose in a fury of thrashing. I had my pike at last, but every bend of the rod threatened to shed him back into the darkened… Continue reading

In the aftermath of a failed spring, a final lapwing’s nest appeared in the reworked field. I found the eggs and I asked the farmer if he’d allow me to mark the location with a traffic cone so that he could stay away from it. He had no interest in the birds, but he couldn’t… Continue reading

There were bats in Battlefield, and a fox like a flag in the twilight. We walked to the top of Queen’s Park in the aftermath of a football match we didn’t watch, and somebody said that we lost. The streets were loud with tragic resignation, and a great thirst was descending upon the people there.… Continue reading

It made sense to pause in 2023. After eight years of calving, many of my cows were beginning to fall out of rhythm. Through no specific or systemic fault of their own, some had missed the bull and caught him a month later. One or two had lost their calves and then found it hard… Continue reading