16
feathery heads dropping pollen. This was the origin of the
distant yellow in the woodland, the willow trees flowering
first in the race to reproduce.
We walked up to the two barns, sad to see the roof tiles
falling and the gaps in the weather boarding. The first
building was open-fronted, the roof structure simple with
small whole round tree trunks having been used for the main
supports. Two beams on one side and at the back were slotted
indicating there had been a partition at some time but now
vanished and young elder pushed up through the roof dislodging
the old tiles and letting in the weather.
The other barn was larger and at first it appeared to
be in a better condition. We squinted through a crack in the
door and could see machinery inside, however, I could see a view
of fields through the opposite side where the boards were
missing. We walked round to the back and now we could see
5 old farm machines resting there, reapers and binders and an
old elevator, their tyres flat and the wheel rims resting on
the floor. We wondered how many years they had waited here,
their tasks taken over by newer and more efficient machines
whilst they still sat as if hoping their turn would come again
to be hitched to a tractor to take their place in the farm's
busy round. This roof too was in a sorry state with large holes
letting in the weather. Before long these old machines will
have rusted and fallen apart. The roof was a simple structure
also, the braces consisting of pieces of tree and branch, the
angles thus formed supporting the main beams directly instead
of two straight pieces fixed together. Our path continued up the
slight rise, passing a small pond unfortunately devoid of any
frogspawn, then turning left to skirt one field of corn, then
leading across another, the footpath quite clear, reinstated over
the ploughed land to the road beyond,. Out in the open skylarks
exultantly soared and sang overhead.
Here we had a short conference and decided to part company.
I to continue along the road to a nearby inn for the shorter
route, whilst my companion retraced our steps back to fetch the
car. I ambled along the narrow road admiring the hedgerows
ready to burst into life, the swelling buds light with promise
on the dark twigs, last years leaves still clinging to the
brambles which with their richly coloured stems covered the
hedges in a red-purple haze. I paused on the grass verge to clean
some of the mud from my boots and was pleased to catch sight of
more primroses at the base of the hedge. Moving closer I was