33. Thank you to our...
Accountant and architects,
Bakers, beekeepers and
bunting makers,
Cakes, cricketers and
creative writers,
Donors and detectorists,
Event and exhibition organisers,
ecologists and engineers,
Friends of the Fairfield
Association and Forest Schools,
Grant givers, graziers and
graffiti sanders,
Hedge layers, haymakers,
hare recorder, historians and the
Heritage Lottery Fund,
IT experts and
insect identifiers,
Joanna our stone carver,
the King and Queen and
Lords and Ladies
of the Orchard,
Musicians, mapmakers
and most of all
Members of the FA,
Natural England,
nettle slashers and
newsletter deliverers,
Orchard Volunteers and
our outreach to schools,
Ploughmen and
Photographers,
QEII status,
Ragwort diggers
and the RSPB,
Scythers, secretaries, seed
collectors, and strimmers,
Our treasurer and trustees,
The University’s
Green Lancaster,
Volunteers of every kind,
White Park Cattle and
the Wildlife Trust,
Xmas carol singers,
The Young Offenders
who laid our path,
And the Zen Buddhists
and all those others who
just turn up and help.
Editor's Notes
Behind the willows, over the brook
close by the brambles, where the vixen feeds her cubs:
A bit of wilderness where the roe deer live
The hay twirls then drops Dust fills the hayfield air: a day’s work to him.
The white cow sinks knee-deep into Alder Pond - ignores her image.
So that’s how they make shredded wheat!
The wind at her back; a moment of pause before hungry mouths at home
Alder Pond, church spire, the herd lies on the lea; I could have as little to do.
Old man heron, Lord of all he surveys
Their scent fills the nostrils Their quiet hum gives him courage Wax, nectar honey
One black, one white calf Slope off to find pastures new A third stands and looks
Housing crisis, what housing crisis?
Trees on the skyline standing proud in their height Twigs stretch for the clouds
How frozen the heart that the murmuration’s swoop can no longer thaw
A cold northeasterly brings the handsome redwing to feast at our table
The rustle of reeds, the squelch of boots Then the sky full of snipe, batting about. It’s the flush count again!
Sun sinks behind cloud; clusters of black coral stand: a white sheet beneath
Feasting has finished. Red baubles left on branches keep memory full
The old Ash beckons footprints follow The sky thickens
Cold feet, icy air Early lambs have it hardest, Spring is unheard of.
A traveller from an arctic land…
You’re too late; the snow queen has passed. Life will return as Spring takes hold.
The curlew’s lonely cry - Heads lift to follow her trail Heading seaward still.
Fragile blossom. Warm breeze shakes the laden branch; Dancing snowflakes fall
Now the paparazzi are here, We’ll be all over the gossip columns!
I’ve got a wonderful feeling, Everything’s going my way!
