"Let there be weeds . . ."

No, not the Lament of the Failed Gardener but a fragment from Inversnaid by Gerard Manley Hopkins; the verse, in, full runs:

What would the world be, once bereft

Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, 

O let them be left, wildness and wet;

Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

I first read those lines about 35 years ago, studying with Fr Alfred Thomas (known as Father Alf), a Jesuit who was something of an expert on GMH. He was also something of an expert on T S Eliot, among others, and I was extremely fortunate to have been one of his students. (The fact that my cherished copy of Eliot's Complete Poems is thick with annotations and underlinings is due entirely to Father Alf's erudition.)

But back to that earlier Jesuit, Gerard Manley Hopkins. I think of his lines every time I walk on Exmoor, especially the higher open moorland like East Anstey Common. Moorlands are among the few places of true wilderness left in Southern England and all the more precious for that. One of the smallest of the National Parks, it is extraordinarily rich in wildlife as this report confirms but even wilderness must be managed.

It was, therefore, rather thrilling to see a small herd of cattle grazing on the common when I wa sthere at the weekend. 

Changes in agricultural payment systems mean that there is now far less incentive for farmers to graze cattle in this way. But cattle form an essential part of sustainable moorland management as their grazing helps to keep down the bracken.

Up on the moor, one is acutely aware of space and light, of changes in weather and cloud formations. The view to the north, for example, with the village of Hawkridge in the distance, meant heading into sunshine:

is quite different from that to the south, with its lowering skies.

 

But what would a post on Exmoor be without ponies? These two spotted sheltering from the afternoon sun:

The Metrowoman I once was has never quite ceased to be amazed that, for the past 12 years, this has been home.

Comments

[Shelley]

There is a park across from our house that used to be much more like a forest, it was so wild. Then the 'friends of the park' started pruning and now it looks more like a garden instead. I preferred the forest, but the park is pretty, too. Just now, before all the brambles are cut back, though, it is lovely and wild - off the paths, anyhow. We went blackberry picking yesterday and will return each weekend for the next few weeks.

[60 Going On 16]

Oh nothing like the first blackberries of the season, Shelley. I picked my very first up on Exmoor on Saturday. So sweet, so juicy. Lots of brambles in the wild part of my garden and the hedgerows are groaning with them, so will be making large quantities of ice cream and cordial in the coming days.

[Linda]

It has been almost 15 years since I was last on an English moor; I need to correct that soon.

The thing that strikes me about the countryside is that villages have edges. Neat and tidy. And so picturesque. What a lovely place.