A landscape unspoilt by human intervention...

 

 

 

A sedge warbler chatters in the reeds, hard to spot but distinctive, insistent, bringing me to attention. Beyond the river bank a hawk glides over the water meadows, swooping, gliding, alighting on an old fence post, just out of reach. A ewe baas in the distant fields, calling to her lamb, drawing it back closer to her. I sit, back against the river dyke, sheltered from the wind, in the warm embrace of mountains that enfold me on three sides, their circle broken only where the river meanders down to the sea, past sheep. cattle and reedbeds with their tall, white stems held erect over the flat landscape.

 

Below me, on the bank, a butterfly lands, spreads its wings for an instant, moves on, joined by a second - orange, black, delicately outlined. A tortoiseshell, red admiral, painted lady? No, none of these. Just another of the countless varieties, defying labels, confusing to identify but delighting me with its vibrant colour and intricate patterns. All around me, it is colour that lights up this magical landscape: turquoise sky, pale green hills, golden yellow furze bushes, brown tufts of meadow grass, blending together in a rich harmony, a natural symphony of light and shade. The hillsides are illuminated or darkened by a succession of shapes, patterns traced across them by the steady onward march of the clouds above, always changing, never still.

 

In the distance I hear the sound of the steam train, its gentle 'choo ooo', as if in a far off dream, carrying yet another load of contented passengers down, down from the green mountain to the glistening, blue sea.

 

Far away, on the other side of the fields, a solitary white car glitters in the sunshine as it makes its way slowly along the road that is now visible, now hidden, behind the screen of hedging towards  a cluster of houses and farm buildings - the only clear sign in this whole panorama of the existence of the human species. Apart from the chattering of the birds, the sound of distant sheep and the sighing of the wind, it is a silent world, a far cry from the city that I am used to. No concrete, no glass, no metal, only earth, water and vegetable matter, soft, green and natural, the way Mother Earth intended. No human intervention, nothing to spoil it - except me...