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  • A Peck of Dirt by Tim Dee

    Paul saw his moment. He pressed the launch button and the net cannoned over the gulls. They lifted as one as soon as it rose above them.

  • Coal Measures by Paul Evans

    What dies in the coal forest falls into the water: horsetails, tree ferns, dragonflies and crocodiles rot under the surface of the swamp.

  • Footprints by Tim Hannigan

    This was absolutely the countryside. The spinneys and fields had names, even if no mapmaker had ever thought to seek them out.

  • Heart of Oak by Dexter Petley

    1 Family Trees One September morning, I woke to find that most of the trees in the forest around me had been spray-painted with those dreaded red rings of the oak hunter,…

  • Undertow by David Bradford

    It was Bill’s fault: he brought us here, that summer of 1990.

  • Quartz by Linda Cracknell

    In the summer of 2016 I part-rode, part-pushed my bicycle, loaded with a tent and some art materials, across the narrow waist of the Udal peninsula on the Hebridean island of North…

  • My Rock by Tim Dee

    In hospital, I was often asked to rank my pain on a scale of one – not so bad – to ten – deadly. I answered, thinking of the Avon Gorge near my home, its savage gash of limestone perpetually wounded by a muddy river.

  • Entanglement by Christopher Nicholson

    There came the point when the secateur blades were within an inch of the antlers, which in the poor light seemed as grey as the honeysuckle. Then the roebuck had had enough. In one convulsive movement it flung itself into the air and broke free. It hurtled away, crashing downhill, disappearing into the darkness of the trees.

  • In Praise of Dandelions by Gerard Fosse

    I remove an individual dandelion seed and let it drop onto my notebook. I keep plucking, and ten minutes later I have a pile of 82 seeds (or 83, but I’m not counting again) wavering across the pad in a soft froth.

  • Made in England by Fran Edgerley

    She loves the stories hidden in the landscape – particular hedges, the small paths that signify cross-breeding links, farming styles, a new kerbside or a route home. To me Dorothy Hartley is a fellow student following the complex web of how the physical, natural world translates to our daily and cultural material experience.

  • Shepherd’s Watch by Melanie Viets

    I slip my hand deep inside the ewe. Reach in turn for one front hoof then bent leg. My fingers meet the inner wall of the ewe’s womb, her muscles ribbed in symmetry with the ridges of the ram’s horns.

  • The Signless Signpost by Peter Reason

    As the water poured over the sills we could see it in several different forms: hanging just above the top sill, oily blue, darkly mirroring the sky; falling in a smooth sheet down the face of the weir, sparkling with light; breaking into cataracts that fell like braids; tumbling chaotically over the next sill; and so on down.