Our Harvest Song

“Onwards to pass home. Stopping as skylarks spotted. Rising from field. A flitter of wing, whirring in vertical lift. As they do… then song ascending.”   My Aberdeenshire, Tifty childhood home, surrounded by arable landscape. Farmland fields, with crops in rotation. Ground nesting birds. Stubble fields upon harvest. Grasses blown in breeze. The soft “shush” as the wind passed through