A WALK THAT MIKE AND I PARTICULARLY ENJOY begins behind the imposing church of a nearby village and travels along a green lane, reputed to have once been a Roman road. Spring is our favourite time of year for this jaunt, as the mud underfoot is drying out, the air is washday fresh and the primroses are blossoming. So are a mass of other wild flowers, with the composition of this colourful mosaic changing according to the density of tree cover overhead and the proximity of water. Only a few houses border this track; some, of great antiquity, are gently crumbling back to the earth from which their materials originally sprung. Enveloping yew trees caress moss-covered clay tiles, oak beams silvered with age jut out at ever more acute angles, and plaster cracks widen after each successive winter, revealing fragile wattle skeletons.
Humans may have almost forgotten this lane, but not so nature. Fox and badger tracks are evident through the undergrowth, smaller creatures rustle beneath fallen leaves and birds tap, whistle and sing their way through the tree boughs in nature’s version of an ‘Old Time Music Hall’ chorus. As the walk nears its end, high grassy banks on either side overflow with huge cushions of primroses, some with as many as a hundred blooms open at once. This bounty showers down around passers-by like a heavenly blessing, which it may indeed be, since a tiny downland church is poised at the lane end.
Further on are set a few cottages and a pub, the garden of which sports sturdy yet comfortable benches and tables. One day we were trying these out for size, together with ploughmen’s lunches, when we noticed that the cottage opposite was the source of this handmade furniture. Refreshed after our meal, we popped across to order a three-seater bench made from chestnut coppiced on the farm. There were several occasions on the walk back (which always seems longer than the walk there) when we wished we had the bench with us, to sit down upon. However, in due course it was delivered, and once set in the far corner of our little field it looked very much at home. Incidentally, a three-seater bench is long enough to lie down and go to sleep on, a handy attribute for sunny afternoons.
Seats and benches certainly make lingering in a meadow an even more pleasant experience. Depending on the situation of your meadow you may feel the necessity to embed a bench’s legs in concrete, or fix them to sunken iron bars, to prevent their unauthorised removal. Another sad comment on our times is that is advisable to chain a field gate on both the latched and hinged ends, rendering it less easy to lift off and steal.
Few people have the inclination or muscle power to shift fallen tree trunks, however, which can form useful seats, especially if you know a trained operator of a chainsaw who would be willing to trim the tree appropriately. Simple cross-sections of tree trunks, available from fire log suppliers, make excellent stools, and when they eventually rot away too much for human comfort, they will have transformed themselves into a wonderful habitat for insects and mosses.
No matter how comfortable a garden bench is, there comes a time when the weather is not conducive to sitting out, and for such times a small shed to act as a hide for watching nature in all its forms is a great asset. Summer-houses, sheds, hides, greenhouses and the like, however, are less straight-forward than benches. So long as the item in question lies within the boundary of your home and garden, there should be no problem—unless it is a high-rise, multi-coloured extravaganza. In the countryside, though, even when beside other existing buildings, a new shed or similar type of construction will need planning permission.
Standard planning application forms are not normally geared to this type of request, as planning requests in relation to wildlife meadows are still relatively unusual. It is therefore a good idea to telephone your local council’s Planning Department and arrange a convenient time to call and explain your proposal. Useful items to bring with you would be an Ordnance Survey map of the local area, a sketch map (drawn to scale) of the piece of land involved, an illustrated leaflet on the type of building, photographs, together with copies of any letters or documents demonstrating that yours is a genuine environmental project. Owners of neighbouring property and land are likely to be asked for their opinion by the Planning Department, as will your local Parish Council, so preparatory friendly explanations will be well worthwhile.
When our planning permission was granted, with the help of our District Councillor, we ordered a modest shed from our nearest organic farm. Not that this shed is noticeably different from any other, but the service is friendlier.
In order to raise the shed above ground level, we searched out some old railway sleepers at a local steam railway station. Here enthusiasts spend every weekend renovating the track and rolling stock until it is as resplendent as it was in its Victorian heyday. A railway sleeper is not an item to be tucked under one’s arm; it took three of us to heave each of our sleepers from the car to its chosen position at the bottom corner of the field. We were in danger of succumbing to the perils of both hernia and hilarity before they were lowered into their allotted positions.
The day our shed was delivered, Mike joined our friends Paul and Bill in staggering haphazardly from the lane to the far end of our field, carrying sections of the shed between them. I hindered their progress by photographing the scene for posterity, but they bore it all with good grace as I was there to grab an end of roof or wall whenever the structure veered too wildly from the vertical. An octagonal shed (chosen for the quality of viewing it offered) will flex rather more easily than a conventional square one, having double the amount of corners to support, but we got there in the end.
We fixed inside the shed the two wooden windowboxes that came with it, to act as shelves. With the addition of chairs, a hayrake, and a battered metal chest to act both as table and storage space, we were fully furnished for all-weather observations. As they departed, our mentors advised us to secure the shed walls to metal posts sunk into the ground, as a precaution against the westerly gales which sometimes sweep across the hillside. This we did, and we also coachbolted the floor to the hefty timber beneath, and secured the roof with strong wire thrown up and over and fixed into the railway sleepers. Having taken all these precautions against the elements, we felt confident to leave our shed in the hands of providence (and prevailing winds).