#365daysofbiking Back on track
September 1st – I took a bimble on the bridleway that runs from Claypit Lane by Aldershawe at Wall to to the old Watling Street by the Birmingham Road, which I haven’t done for years.
The fields on Harehurst Hill were being ploughed, and under the railway bridge, there seemed to be a fault in the rendering of reality…
A beautiful little green lane I’d forgotten all about.
July 26th – Passing through Stonnall on my way home, I noted the harvest has started, presumably to beat that morning’s rain, but it’s a sobering sight.
Near Lower Stonnall, the oilseed rape has been cut, the fields looking ragged and desolate, covered in the stalks, pods and shredded chaff that the harvester blows out after flailing out the precious black seeds.
Perhaps more strikingly, the field adjacent has already been harvested and ploughed over for the next crop.
It feels uncomfortably like Autumn’s breath is on my shoulder…
March 21st – Passing the fields at the Shelfield end of Green Lane, I smelt the delicious, dark smell of freshly turned earth, and noticed the field near the Mob Lane junction had been ploughed, harrowed and planted.
I noted a lot of fields locally have been ploughed in the last week or so. Perhaps farmers now feel they’re clear enough of winter to risk spring planting.
So beautiful to see the brown fields, full of promise for a new growing season.
August 14th – Once a crop is harvested – in this case, wheat – there’s no time to hang around. The straw has been baled, and the ground is prepared for the next cycle of planting.
As I passed this field at Stonnall, I noted that it’s been subject to some process – many harrowing or scarifying – that has broken the stubble, but without ploughing. I’ve not seen this before, and am intrigued. Sadly, I was running short of time and couldn’t hang around to see the machinery performing the operation come back over the hill.
Anyone any ideas?
December 22nd – One of the essentials of the Christmas season is chocolate ginger. I can’t abide the stuff myself, but someone hereabouts is very fond of it indeed. The best chocolate ginger comes from the confectioner in Shenstone, so late afternoon, off in the rain I headed. It was very warm out, and it felt almost spring-like. The wind was heavy and drove the rain hard into my face on the way back. Shenstone always looks Christmassy at dusk. There’s something about the closeness of the houses, and the way the street light falls that make this place redolent of a bucolic Christmas card. I noted the Plough pub still boarded up, but the Railway, opposite, and the Fox and Hounds up the road still seemed to be in rude heath.
September 1st – At home farm, I smelt the fresh earth before I saw it; I’d now that scent anywhere. The farmer has wasted now time, and ploughing and harrowing was in full swing. Presumably, there’s another crop to go in here now – maybe potatoes or a vegetable of some sort. The golden hues of late summer will soon all be fresh and brown like this, part of time’s passage. Lovely, but sad at the same time.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 