To know fully even one field is a lifetimes experience.
It is depth that counts, not width.
A gap in a hedge, a smooth rock, a narrow lane, a view of a woody meadow.
The stream at the junction of small fields.
All are as much as a man can fully experience.
A slow pace gives us time to see everything.
Every step of the way.
To feel the landscape with our feet.
To touch it with our hands.
Smell it, taste it and so become a part of it.
As we walk the stuff of ancient rhythms drum into the skin of the earth.
Old roads lead from somewhere to elsewhere.
A lost lane, a stone, a leaf an unfound door.
Too many of us are strangers in our own land washed up in towns and cities.
Shipwrecked there.
In the fresh country air
Surrounded by the oceans natural world there is a salve.
If we make time to walk its paths.
Remake ancient connections.
Our hearts and minds will thank us.