The Endless Rhythm
24th July 2015
24th July
The Endless Rhythm
All my life I have always been close to the countryside. My hometown is surrounded by fields and woods, my grand parents were farmers and I spent much of my formative years investigating the woods, meadows, barns and haystacks that surrounded their house.
However, I have lived, essentially, a towny lifestyle, as working in the service industry meant a complete disconnection from the countryside and nature. The work is all about serving a human need, contained within a very human context. There is no expectation, consideration or appreciation of the wider world within its confines.
Therefore, it is not too surprising, I have not fully recognised the activities and rhythms of rural life, despite my close proximity to it. I have somehow been in contact, but not immersed. Surrounded but also separated. Seeing to know, but not involved to understand.
However, now I live in a wilder environment, where the elements are keener, where the day to day matters of town people is rarified. Therefore, and as a consequences, I can better recognise many of the activities of the country life that differ from those of my urban existence. The strength and character of each seasons, along with their effects on the land, processes of it's human inhabitants and its wildlife, are more recognisable. I have started to line myself up with the pace and rhythm of the land and its activities, I am starting to get in step with the beat of my new environment.
As a result of this 'rural epiphany' I now intuitively know when the hay will be cut, and have and eye to the west, looking for any signs of any disastrous approaching weather systems. I also know to take care as I drive around the narrow lanes as I could come face to face with a tractor carrying the freshly cut hay. The farmers racing against time and weather.
With an almost unconscious perception I note the how the Dog Violets, Ransom and Celandine have given way to Bog Asphodel, Spotted Orchids, delicate pink Stonecrops and a carpet of Wild Thyme. Through a subconscious sense I am aware of the Bedstraw and Hawkbits that are now covering the valley floors and hillsides. Whilst on my journeys over this beating landscape I am unconsciously aware, from the shouts, whistles and calls of shepherds, that sheep are being collected from the steep, rocky hillsides to receive their annual haircuts. Another pulse in the yearly rhythm of this country life.
It is also the holiday season, the days are still long, but, like reaching the end of a journey there is a feeling of time running out. The birds have turned off their song since the middle of July as they have finished their breeding for this year. They are exhausted and have no need to protect territory, their young or attract a mate. Their season is also approaching the end.
Hay cut, sheep shawn and fleeces burnt. Flowers changing in variety. Fruit and nuts growing (cob nuts, apples, sloes, damsons, bilberries). Birds now quiet, the country soundscape is left with only the delicate rustle of grasses swaying in the breeze.
As soon as the holiday makers have gone and the harvest has filled the barns, the leaves will be changing colour, the Tups will be in with the Ewes and the last swallow will have started its long journey back to southern lands. These activities and changes are the beats that make up the 'endless rhythm' of the rural landscape; a pattern that is slowly and inextricably absorbing me into its rhythm.
The Endless Rhythm
All my life I have always been close to the countryside. My hometown is surrounded by fields and woods, my grand parents were farmers and I spent much of my formative years investigating the woods, meadows, barns and haystacks that surrounded their house.
However, I have lived, essentially, a towny lifestyle, as working in the service industry meant a complete disconnection from the countryside and nature. The work is all about serving a human need, contained within a very human context. There is no expectation, consideration or appreciation of the wider world within its confines.
Therefore, it is not too surprising, I have not fully recognised the activities and rhythms of rural life, despite my close proximity to it. I have somehow been in contact, but not immersed. Surrounded but also separated. Seeing to know, but not involved to understand.
However, now I live in a wilder environment, where the elements are keener, where the day to day matters of town people is rarified. Therefore, and as a consequences, I can better recognise many of the activities of the country life that differ from those of my urban existence. The strength and character of each seasons, along with their effects on the land, processes of it's human inhabitants and its wildlife, are more recognisable. I have started to line myself up with the pace and rhythm of the land and its activities, I am starting to get in step with the beat of my new environment.
As a result of this 'rural epiphany' I now intuitively know when the hay will be cut, and have and eye to the west, looking for any signs of any disastrous approaching weather systems. I also know to take care as I drive around the narrow lanes as I could come face to face with a tractor carrying the freshly cut hay. The farmers racing against time and weather.
With an almost unconscious perception I note the how the Dog Violets, Ransom and Celandine have given way to Bog Asphodel, Spotted Orchids, delicate pink Stonecrops and a carpet of Wild Thyme. Through a subconscious sense I am aware of the Bedstraw and Hawkbits that are now covering the valley floors and hillsides. Whilst on my journeys over this beating landscape I am unconsciously aware, from the shouts, whistles and calls of shepherds, that sheep are being collected from the steep, rocky hillsides to receive their annual haircuts. Another pulse in the yearly rhythm of this country life.
It is also the holiday season, the days are still long, but, like reaching the end of a journey there is a feeling of time running out. The birds have turned off their song since the middle of July as they have finished their breeding for this year. They are exhausted and have no need to protect territory, their young or attract a mate. Their season is also approaching the end.
Hay cut, sheep shawn and fleeces burnt. Flowers changing in variety. Fruit and nuts growing (cob nuts, apples, sloes, damsons, bilberries). Birds now quiet, the country soundscape is left with only the delicate rustle of grasses swaying in the breeze.
As soon as the holiday makers have gone and the harvest has filled the barns, the leaves will be changing colour, the Tups will be in with the Ewes and the last swallow will have started its long journey back to southern lands. These activities and changes are the beats that make up the 'endless rhythm' of the rural landscape; a pattern that is slowly and inextricably absorbing me into its rhythm.