Old Man River

The sea, agitated into a westerly migration by the wind, crumples and floods out from the harbour.

A gig boat, like an oversized canoe, cuts a fluid line across sun-drenched water as its elderly crew slowly row against the wind. The shouts to keep time are muffled and distorted by the distance.

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Nature’s Value

We are, and always have been, entirely dependent on Nature.

Make no mistake. Everything we have created; every artificial field blooming with wheat, every shiny new car, all the music that has ever been made – everything – boils down to one, unifying source: the Natural world.

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Making Nature a part of your life, Part Three – Recognising.

The front door to your house is a familiar colour and shape, outlined by the door frame that tells you you’re home. The lock, which you know intimately, might only open with a very specific turn of the key, at a precise angle.

The ritual of coming home is a process which makes you feel calm and relaxed – back at last, you can breathe easy.

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Under British waters.

There is a paper-thin border that separates the land and air we know so well, from the green-tinged, sun-veined underwater.

The coast around our little Island – within reach by an hour or two of even the most land-bound towns – is a life plastered wilderness, where wide-bodied, multicoloured fish hide in the shallows, and jellyfish ghost their way between snake-charmed flotillas of seaweed.

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Whatever happened to being alone?

As far as we know, Human beings (Homo sapiens, that is) began to populate Eastern Africa around 150,000 years ago. Every single one of those people – smart, inventive people, living lives with just as many ecstatic highs and crushing lows as ours – lived without a mobile phone.

That’s 149,980 years of our collective history (if we say the mobile phone became commonplace in the last twenty years). Humans that looked just like us played out long lives and short lives, happy and sad existences; with many remarkable achievements and tragic losses – and all without the comfort of a mobile phone. Continue reading

Into the woods.

The emerald woods stand guard over the sun-bleached pasture and the tinkering tide.

Behind that impressive wall of cathedral-pillar Oaks, and into the dense green shade, bird song echoes like words lost in a vast cavern.

The wind, who strips off grass seeds in the pasture, is subdued by the forest of proud trees. All it can do is skim through the canopy, tickling the leaves into a slow-puncture hiss.

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