Lost in Nature

Wandering through Dighty Fields

*Short passage - not an excerpt

In a peaceful place only five minutes from my front door. lies a tractors lane that travels between fields which lie one after another in various seasonal colours. Trees and old fallen walls made by olden farmers mark the boundaries of each place, creating a picturesque view of the land. Similar to a postcard one may pick up in an old bookstore, there are puddles deceptively deeper than you might think - as vast as the trail and as murky as the river, which can be heard half a mile in the distance. The cold winter months have arrived, littering the ground with a beautiful carpet of burgundy, gold, and grey. As you walk along, you can see the footing change with the trees. Big leaves are soft and sodden with the drizzle that smells like the paint from the garage on the outskirts, and small leaves crinkle like tissue paper at Christmas.

One could stand in their wellies, scarves, gloves, and hats yet yearn to take them off to dance in the glittering rain between the cascading leaves as they descend towards the earth. To the left, there is a wreck. Once upon a time, almost seventeen years ago, a fire burned for more than a day. A car, now so overgrown a passer-by would be unable to tell you the make or model. The remaining white paint creates a stunning background from the brambles and holly that clamber year-round through the car, eating the interior and scratching the non-descript badge.

Nettles are now beginning to die. During summer, they were rife and made the travel unpleasant at times. Many come to visit this place; soon, there will be houses on the land beside it, ruining the landscape and attracting many busybodies to the outer sceneries of the city. But as of now, it is tranquil and silent, except for the birds who laugh and play high in the tree line - and the occasional squirrel who is hurriedly going about his chores in preparation for winter. A little further down the lane, one may, if they walked far enough, come to a fallen tree which marks the boundary between the usually walked and the seldom walked; the other side is an escape to nature.

Long grass, sharp bushes pulling at your clothes, naturally formed mysterious passages weaving through the brush. The oxygen is so clean that you must rest after a while with a confused look, wondering if you were always so unfit. The mud is slippery and uneven, making the journey perilous to those not used to off-road wandering. Through the drizzle, the overgrown area appears ominous; especially to those by themselves. On many occasions, I have removed my headphones to listen to my surroundings out of fear of getting lost.

As you walk back. The view from the other direction is just as unique. The colours painted across the scene create a breath-taking panorama of autumnal browns, oranges, and greens. The trees haven’t fully changed and look different from the front. The ground is uneven, so the dirt mounds look endearing. The fresh air carries scents from the earth and the sky, separating you from the ties of technology. After walking in the rain for so long, the water begins to seep into your clothes, and your bones start to chatter, but you already wonder when you will next journey in this direction.