In the first days of April, as the sun rises earlier and the dark of winter recedes, I resume my early-morning walks around the fields close to my house. I am mainly concerned with shaking off my winter sloth, so I dress in light clothes and take my hiking poles: I will be chilled stepping outside and I want to encourage myself to walk briskly.
I take the lane that runs between the hedge and the stone garden walls. It is a track of compressed earth, firm in parts, a bit muddy in others. I pass patches of overturned soil where badgers have been digging for roots and worms, and look out for ...
There are approximately 521 more words in this article.
To read the rest of this article, please buy this issue, or join the Resurgence Trust. As a member you will receive access to the complete archive of magazines from May 1966.
If you are already a member, please Sign in
