earth on foot 5
25 June 2025
Again a spider walks across my notebook, a tiny creature this time, half the size of a sesame seed and pale white like mashed potatoes. My page is aglow under the orange canvas umbrella here at a bistro table in Worton Kitchen Garden, Oxfordshire. We are here to celebrate a very special wedding with family.
Near me, a Balinese farmer named Made (mah-day) works grabbing handfuls of black currants from a water-filled tub. He plucks the stems off, tosses the small deep purple orbs into an another bin, offering the splash rhythm to the sonic mix of bird song, ducks’ chatter, hens’ clucks, planes’ rumbles (from nearby Oxford Airport), and the hum of something mechanical—the kitchen fan wafting deliciousness.
Made explains that the large garden area is not always tidy given the earth’s constant demands; it’s better for biodiversity this way, too.
Apple trees laden with green and half-red fruits surround us, also greenhouses whose misty glass panes reveal kale plants, yellow flowers, and purplish kohlrabi. Red hollyhock, purple larkspur, mint, and lavender explode from a cobalt ceramic mug (handmade, clearly) in front of me. Gardens are riotous things!
Meanwhile running through the fields here with long grass waving all around in the wild winds and clouds—no words!
Another farmer swaggers by in muddy Wellington boots and carrying a fistful of a freshly-picked garlic, long dried brown stems hanging down The two laborers discuss the crop, the rain (or lack of it—I’ve heard it’s close to drought here), and the stalks rustle back and forth as they chuckle. What endless work, the garden!
Made disappears for a while, then returns, leaning sideways to retrieve yet another plastic tub.
“I have to pick some more!” he says and strides off.
