I cross the meadow to investigate the hedge beside the roadside footpath where the wild clematis, winding its way through the squat hawthorn is adorned with a display of clusters of creamy spikes. The hawthorn is hung with pale green berries and a scattering of leaves are beginning to show a change of colour. Here are the signs of the coming autumn. The squat village church, separated from the meadow by a thick hedgerow, shimmers in the morning sun. In front of the church the raised triangular village green, with its prominent stone memorial to the fallen, is verdant and, well... green. Beyond, the undulating meadows disappear into the distance. It promises to be a lovely day in a lovely setting.
Happily, a dull, grey, uninspiring early morning has given way to warm sunshine, although the lush grass remains wet and glistening with water drops. Walking through it I can feel the dampness furtively creeping into my boots where age and use are finally beginning to take their toll of the creased leather. I cross the meadow to investigate the hedge beside the roadside footpath where the wild clematis, winding its way through the squat hawthorn is adorned with a display of clusters of creamy spikes. The hawthorn is hung with pale green berries and a scattering of leaves are beginning to show a change of colour. Here are the signs of the coming autumn. The squat village church, separated from the meadow by a thick hedgerow, shimmers in the morning sun. In front of the church the raised triangular village green, with its prominent stone memorial to the fallen, is verdant and, well... green. Beyond, the undulating meadows disappear into the distance. It promises to be a lovely day in a lovely setting. Beyond the tree line opposite the road is the site of the proposed community orchard. Right now it looks anything but my idea of a traditional orchard setting, with well-spaced apple, pear and plum trees surrounded by short-clipped grass. Instead, it is carpeted in nettles, brambles, rosebay willowherb, thistles and ragwort, forming and impenetrable jungle of vegetation, in places over head-height. It’s just as well that there is a good group of us, armed with the Tracmaster – a motorised cutting machine – a brushcutter, a chainsaw and an impressive selection of rakes because we have just one day to clear the whole lot. The Tracmaster is soon rolling off the back of the trailer and cutting a path into the nettles, the fearsome teeth making short work of the stems, and the brushcutter is busy around and beneath the trees. The rest of us are soon following on behind armed with rakes and pitchforks. I manage to nab a lovely old wooden rake, perfect for the job, light-weight and easy to use, its wooden peg teeth in its simple but sturdy frame. Despite many variations and modern improvements, sometimes the old tools are still the best. Meanwhile the chainsaw opens up its throat as it prepares to dispose of a fallen tree in the corner of the meadow, adding to the orchestra of petrol engines. Despite the roar of the 3 machines it’s still a lovely day, the sun is shining, it’s warm on my back and I have to say that I quite enjoy raking – the repetitive action is relaxing and therapeutic and it’s pleasing to see the instant progress as the cut vegetation is collected into a growing pile, each sweep revealing more and more of the close-clipped grass. And rakes make a perfect prop for stopping for a chat or for sharing a joke, all of which adds to the enjoyment of the day. It reminds me of the old black and white photos of farm workers raking cut grass into rows to dry for making hay – and those workers were using wooden rakes just like mine. This may not be everyone’s idea of fun but I can’t fault it – well, maybe the machines could take a bit of a breather for a while. The only thing missing from the scene of nostalgic rural bliss is the pints of rough cider at lunchtime. I must have a word. The raked vegetation is used to refresh the dead hedge that separates the community-owned orchard site from the adjacent privately-owned woodland, with is very tidy with its manicured lawns and lack of fallen timber – I wonder whether the owner realises that tidiness, although pleasing upon the eye, is not the sign of a healthy wood. The dead hedge is made up of a structure of fallen branches – possibly form the immaculate woodland – upon which we fork the piles of greenery. As we work it begins to resemble one of the large Grand National fences after all the horses have crashed through it. Apparently, this is the perfect habitat for grass snakes that have been seen in the area, although we don’t see any today, which is not a great surprise with all the noise and activity. I suppose whether or not the building of a perfect home for snakes is seen as a plus for the site depends very much upon your liking for them. Despite being harmless they may not always be the most welcome creature to suddenly come upon. The only wildlife we see, apart from the mass of bees buzzing busily around a clump of thistles, are a pair of field voles hiding in the raked vegetation that make a run for it as we role the piles towards the hedge. Cute little things. Towards the end of the day the constant effort of raking and forking begins to take its toll and the rakes are used as much for leaning as for raking. However, with the end in sight, there is a great incentive to get the job finished. And it’s with a great deal of satisfaction that we view the complete transformation of the site. As we begin to load the tools into the back of the trailer the orchard is prepared – all that remains is for the trees to be planted. But that is definitely a job for another day.
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AuthorDespite being raised in London I have been a lover of the countryside all my life. Over the past few years I have been priviledged to be able to work as a countryside management volunteer, picking up new skills and knowledge along the way and seeing the countryside in a way I never had before. The Urban Countryman is my personal view of that countryside, the seasons and the work that goes on to protect and manage this wonderful environment. Archives
January 2019
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