Tag: fenland

Six Miles – Leanne Moden

Six Miles – Leanne Moden

Six miles, again, we’ll go today…

Fen Pumpkins

Fen Pumpkins

by C J Mawganson (see also Poetry) “I love how pumpkins carpet the Fen fields in the autumn. They glow burning orange in the weakening sun. Way too delicious to carve and throw away.”

Neill Robinson – Black and White

Neill Robinson – Black and White

From Neill:

“These were all taken at various points during lockdown. I live in Guyhirn so a lot are of the surrounding area around the village, as for a long time we weren’t really allowed to go elsewhere! The exceptions being of 2 from King’s Lynn one from Hunstanton and one from Wolferton.”

(see our other photography categories to complete the set of Neill’s work)

Instagram: @Neill.Robinson

Neill Robinson – Nature

Neill Robinson – Nature

From Neill: “These were all taken at various points during lockdown. I live in Guyhirn so a lot are of the surrounding area around the village, as for a long time we weren’t really allowed to go elsewhere! The exceptions being of 2 from King’s 

Fen Blow – C J Mawganson

Fen Blow – C J Mawganson

Feel the Fen Blow bey…

Seasickness – Leanne Moden

Seasickness – Leanne Moden

Here, there is clarity. A raw, persistent

truth – a cold disparity – hidden beneath

these tessellating fields. Fields stitched

by ditches to a muddy canvas. An after-

thought, a lost and lonely landmass.

Marshes marred by the harshness of

weather-worn trees. Each movement

of their aching limbs born of necessity.

That seasickness, which rises when

tracing that unaltered horizon, will

never fade. It is the price we pay to

come and stare into the eyes of gods,

to see ourselves, scratched and scattered

across unending skies and be reminded

just how much it mattered. The paling

moonlight dies, submerged and sinking,

but never fully sunk. No dampened way

of thinking, drunk on every part of these

wild and weary, sun-smeared fens. I’ll walk

each lonesome plough line, now as then.