The land is waking all around me. In the orchards trees are heavy with blossom whilst all along the verges cow parsley, dandelions and harebells wink and dance in the breeze. Along Allercombe Lane a hawthorn hedgerow is so heavy with flowers it looks as though it is covered in an unseasonable covering of snow. Beside the crackle and hum of power cables and pylons a different energy emanates from the earth: the shimmering lilac of a bluebell wood, in the midst of which stands an elderly couple rapt in silent reverie. In the dappled sunlight they appear almost wraith like. I blink and in a moment I am past.
It seems to me, in these moments of nature’s rebirth, that it might just be possible that those ‘dark satanic shopping centres’ could yet be crumbling to dust, their shadows reclaimed by the ancient natural magic. Well, wouldn’t it be pretty to think so.