This is a descriptive piece from the novel I am working on. It is inspired by the Fenland scenery which I travelled through every day when working in Lincolnshire. I’ve been experimenting with using the landscape as a character in my writing…
The fen breathes in.
Fields, square and green, edged mathematically with dykes and drainage channels, held in their grid under a heavy grey sky.
Roads, stepping lines of sinking tarmac through the landscape, conforming, giving precedence to the fields. The tarmac bends, turning obedient corners then relaxing momentarily into the straight, but it is brought to order again, subservient, at the field’s end.
For a moment the sky cracks. A sharp February light escapes and falls, descending on the fenland as a searchlight, warming the green and shafting low shadows from a lone tree on the dyke bank. As the crack closes the shadows fade and merge with the road surface, and the tree tightens its buds against the winter cold. Its back is arched, proof of the intensity of the winds that blow in from The Wash, sea winds that pull at the grass and carry the sharp keening of gulls.
The fen breathes out, relaxes, leaving space for the car that crawls, like a small, silver-blue beetle, along the dark line of tarmac.
© Anne de Gruchy 2015