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Wool, a short essay by Amelia Hodsdon
Once upon a time, sheep in the fields here, in their sheepcots on the wolds, were the source of fortunes.
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Solastalgia Flights by Julia Brigdale
Our childhoods were a lie I now see, our memories, skewed. And therein lies the problem.
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Threads, a community poem
Red, it’s my colour,
the cuffs rippling in the wind,
Hung lazily off an arm.
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Eisteddfod! And the Welsh Language Landscape by Julie Brominicks
The bus had cruised north, Y Rhinogydd crisply defined. We collected a musician sucking vodka through a straw at Porthmadog
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Searching for Life in a Burial Chamber by Elizabeth Black
I felt buoyed by its energy as I descended towards the village and saw Silbury Hill appear singularly in the distance.
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Robin Walter reads Arbor Vitae
Robin Walter reads his poem Arbor Vitae.
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Banal Utopia by JC Niala
Allotments are also utopias, because they are impossible spaces. They are rural artefacts that migrated to the city with their people.
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On Rain and Washing by Rebecca Smith
I was interested in the men who built this incredible feat of engineering, and the families they brought with them.
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A Symphony of Ancient Trees by Laura Parker
The trees that remained had recently witnessed revelries wild enough to rival any modern music festival.
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The Yellow Bittern by David Higgins
Bitterns are easier to hear than to see. What tends to be heard, though, is not their ‘cry / In the wild sky’, but the male’s remarkable booming call emerging from reedbeds in the breeding season.
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In High Places by Julia Brigdale
a jet fighter appeared out of the north-west sky and slashed through the air directly overhead.
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Children of the Forest by Juliette de Baïracli Levy
Among our happiest forest events every year were the summer and autumn fruit gatherings.
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