ONLY a man rotavating. To the front of the machine, through the cobwebby mist, the bare ground around the troughs and racks where the sheep stood eating in the bleak days on the hill; behind the spinning steel blades churned earth, for re-sowing. One view is winter, one is spring. The rotavator hits a subterranean rock, pitches and rolls; the operator, although grip- ping the ox-horn handlebars tight, stumbles among the waves of red earth. A drunken sailor. The engine whines as it works; it is as deafening as conches. Yet, if the rotavator is modern, the tilling of soil is ancient, dating back to time almost beyond measure, when fur-clad humans scraped at the ground with a deer horn. The means change, the practice remains the same.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 29, 2023 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 29, 2023 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Save our family farms
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A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
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It takes the biscuit
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On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
