wilding by katharine eastman
Ambient drone. I think it was about a million years ago that we reached the point where absolutely no one needed any more ambient and/or droning stuff. Weirdly, hearing this thing playing back at me while I'm typing this, I am surprised how much I like it. Obviously I don't expect anyone to share these feelings - I'm sure I only like it because I made it - if you'd made it I would be as bored and exasperated as you are right now.
The week before last I decided to ignore my endless hangover and I walked from Hythe (Hants) to Barton on Sea keeping as close to the coast at all times as possible, with the obvious detours up the Beaulieu and Lymington Rivers This past week I've done that walk twice. I don't know why. I am just obsessed with it. Maybe it's the Solent - I was born in Hythe and maybe I will always feel that the Solent is like my mother's amniotic fluid when she was expecting me.
The week before last there were quite a lot of butterflies. But last week there were as good as none - the usual slew of browns, some whites, one skipper, and that was it. Other insects were even quieter. The odd dragonfly. But nothing really. Just this side of Keyhaven there's a huge buddleia bush (tree) which already is fully in bloom. Nothing on it at all. Sure, it's not hot. But I've known colder Junes, and I've never known a quieter one.
Yesterday in the cinema I watched the new documentary Wilding - about a Sussex farm which years ago decided to rewild - not quite what I'd expected, I'd expected that that'd mean they'd just stay in bed all day and let Nature take her course with no interference at all. But this couple actually "interfere" quite a lot - introducing large cattle and large pigs and later large beavers and storks. But it's all good - it's a good job they're in charge and not me - and the documentary moved me many times. It's wonderful.
My garden is the size of your king sized bed and there's not really room for a buffalo or a big lady Tamworth pig in either. My only interferences are to keep the dock and the ragwort under control - certainly not eliminated, I just don't want either to take over completely. I don't think I know of a more beautiful garden ever in my life. There is a path of short grass that runs up the middle - this is where my washing line runs when I unroll it for my washing - I'm afraid I'm a bit like that old oak expert in Wilding, the guy who has never had a shower or bath - not quite as bad as that, and I'm fortunate to be blessed with friends who are friendly enough that they'd tell me if I smelt. Maybe I get away with it by dint of washing my clothes fairly frequently.
I've never had a washing machine, of course I don't have one now, everything gets washed in the sink, large items in the bath (its only purpose) - there are some household chores that I enjoy - and vacuuming and handwashing clothes are a couple of them.
I don't have a lawn mower or shears and I keep the washing-line pathway under control by pulling up the grass by hand - just a few handfuls every sunny day. It's how I can stay so lazy and can keep my life so easy - I do one minute of housework per day, one minute of gardening per day, and ten hours of walking per day - for me it is the perfect work-life balance - except I don't work at all - who could possibly work in the UK right now? a place where the more stupid you are the more likely you are to be put in charge.
You can say this country is totally fucked up because of Covid and working-from-home and bureaucracy etc, but we all know that it's just because the intelligent sane people just want a quiet life and we step aside and let the stupid arseholes take over - I'm hopeful that a kind of rewilding will happen in Britain one day - if we just let nature take its course then maybe the stupid bosses will finally get tangled up and swamped by the natural easy-goers who know that the best way to do things is the easiest way.
recorded this afternoon, photo one of the guards on the beach between Milford and Barton there to keep people off the beach to stop them getting squashed by the falling cliffs.
