My goodness it’s been a long time since I wrote a blog post, don’t ask me why but for some reason I’m feeling an impulse to channel my thoughts and get them down on paper, or web in this case. I want to talk about where we live. This beautiful stretch of fields hedges and trees we call a farm in gods own county, Yorkshire. I want to ramble on about it’s clay and sandy soils, it’s old buildings, barns and crumbling old sheds because well, I just love them.

I met “The Farmer” that’s what I call him on here, his actual name is Nick, 4 and a half years ago. Not only is he the kindest man I know, he’s my best friend, cliche I know but you’ll allow me this one surely? Anyway, he and his family welcomed me with open arms onto their beautiful farm on the East Yorkshire coast and I fell head over heals for him and the farm. My Grandad was born on a farm, although he was the youngest of many so he became a joiner and moved into town, but just maybe it’s in my blood? I certainly don’t think I’d have started my blog if I hadn’t moved here, I definitely wouldn’t have started painting. There’s just something about the place that feels like home, even if I have to struggle on without a Sainsbury’s and immediate motorway access like I was used to back in South Yorkshire, it’s completely worth it.

There’s something so seasonal about being surrounded by farmers. The time of year dictates their work and I find so much beauty and freedom in that. There’s something so earthly about farming, our species before we got over complicated has a natural instinct for working the land. Mother Nature wanted us to tend the soil, she wanted us to sew, and reap and rear and rest when it grew dark, it’s why so much happiness is found in gardening. I know modern farming isn’t always perfect but it feels a dam lot closer to nature than the artificial lights and endless buying, selling, replacing of retail. Knowing you’ll be doing a different job at each turn of the calendar is a luxury a lot of farmers cherish. I’m yet to meet one that wants to hand their notice in. April is time for your shepherds hat and may is filled with back and forth trailer trips to turn the cows out to pasture. August is all hands on deck dawn to dusk harvesting and October is time for potatoes. Winter is earlier nights and hot hearty meals to heat those hard working frozen fingers and toes. Even during a global pandemic a farmers year continues without hesitation. I feel blessed to witness this, although me and The Farmer both know I have neither the skill, understanding or work ethic for actually being a farmer but at least I can sit on the periphery and observe with wonder at the beautiful job they do. With each passing year I feel myself becoming more and more aware of the seasonal changes happening around me and it’s helped me to find my creativity and passion.

Not everyone is a fan of farms, my mum for instance just would not cope. Her need to have everything controlled, neat, tidy, weed free and absolutely perfect would put her in an early grave. But to me that’s what’s beautiful about it, there are so many nucks and cranny’s, old buildings, sheds, verges and banks you physically cannot keep everything perfect and weed free. Nature is left in forgotten spaces to just do it’s thing and I find it more beautiful and inspiring than any manicured lawn. Paint on old stable doors is left to chip and dandelions sprout in gutters, honeysuckle chokes forgotten machinery and birds, spiders, owls and mice find the cosiest homes nestled in the chaos. The combination of building and overgrowth symbolise everything I love about the world, humans can make their mark but if left for long enough the wild will always win.

So far I haven’t even mentioned any animals! In living here I get to witness the birth of lambs and calves and watch the sheep and cattle graze in the field. There are also horses and foals and 4 dogs, then let’s not forget the rabbits, hares, foxes, badgers. The guinea fowl and the partridge, the pheasants, skylarks and lapwings. The deer, the barn sparrows, the owls, the stotes, the sanderlings on the beach, our 7 chickens of course and even the mice, rats and sparrow hawks. Altogether they’ve made this place the happiest and most inspiring place to live, rarely a dog walk goes by without witnessing some beautiful sound or seeing a sight worth being alive for. The best dog walks actually are the ones where I’m in the right place at the right time and see The Farmer and his dad chasing escapee livestock. Neither has what you’d call a graceful run, it’s hilarious.

Thank you so much to my new farming family, this farm is the best place this ex-townie has ever lived and this farm also helped create Brooke Marie. I owe you one!