These pylons may look a little out place in the fields of Kent, but the longer I’ve been aware of them the more they’ve become part of the landscape.
Have you ever had the experience of walking through a sun-drenched landscape and suddenly seeing it being dulled by the build-up of storm clouds on the horizon? The light remains, but it gradually becomes filtered through an ominous grey and you find yourself between two worlds, a kind of a twilight zone with something of the colour drained out of it. It has often happened to me and each time I’ve found it to be such an enchanting experience. The image above was such a moment while walking in the fields near Horton Kirby in Kent. Also, there’s just something about a dead tree against the background of fierce and threatening storm clouds.
This dead tree always looks like a sentinel standing at the entrance of the barley fields. Whenever I pass it on my way to the woods on the right of this image, the old soldier in me wants to salute it. I love these fields which have produced crops and harvests year after year. They together with the skies of Kent give me a wonderful sense of spaciousness and freedom.
The Boabab tree dots the African landscape. To the local peoples, these magnificent trees are seen to be retainers of the memories of the ancestors. There is a sanctity about them. Their branches always remind me of hundreds of fingers reaching out and trying to clutch the sky. I love sketching and drawing them.
The cycle of life goes on. They’ve just ploughed the fields and planted the seed behind our backgarden, and now await this year’s growth and coming harvest. I can’t help but wonder what the harvest will look like that comes out of the seed planting during these dark and confining times. Will Nature’s voice be heard? Will lessons be learnt and be built into a future beyond this frightening and challenging time? I sincerely hope so.