The landscape reverberates with our existance upon it, bearing the traces of past, present and future; the present can never be whole. My brothers made the emotive but economically driven decision that neither of them would work on the land where we grew up; the family farm would not pass from father to son. My father suffered a stroke, a sharp reminder of his own mortality. This autumn he has just brought in his last harvest, the farming of the land will now be passed into the hands of contractors. Much is changing within the agricultural landscape but the land will remain.

September 2000