Seeking The Countryside During Lockdown
From an increase in visiting bird life to accidentally discovering a meadow-like common, lockdown in the city showed me a more countryfied way of life.
The last few months have been hard in a myriad of ways. Jobs have been lost; health has been compromised and for some, enforced isolation has led to incomparable loneliness.
Passing the shady awnings of our local Italian coffee shop, and the newly-opened florist, whose scented blooms no longer cascade onto the pavement, I am reminded of the hardships small businesses face. Yet, amidst these - hopefully temporary - losses, there is hope to be found.
Empty skies
The sky overhead, usually filled with the bustle of the Heathrow flight path, have been silenced. Each day I wake to a chorus of birds that rivals those of the rural village where I grew up. The sound of the milkman removing empties - once barely discernible amid the hustle of late-night Hackney drop offs - is now sufficient to wake both my husband and I in the wee hours.
Newfound paths
Born in the country, I used to sneer at those who claimed to enjoy walking around cities. Surely nothing of true beauty could be found inside the M25? These past few weeks however have shown me another side to my neighbourhood.
After exchanging nods with the stern-looking queue outside the boulangerie one morning, I amble on past an historic riverfront pub, its sills overflowing with gaudy geraniums. Ten minutes later, I have somehow lost my bearings and realise I have wandered into forget-me-knot tangled woodland.
No mere roadside patch of trees, this is the real thing and I proudly share my ‘find’ on instagram. Returning home I realise this Thames-side common is a poorly-kept secret, as fellow Londoners keenly respond with informed questions: Did I find the historic graveyard? Pass the ancient oak? Queue for tea outside the smart-looking cafe on the green? To me, the path mattered little, as the discovery of real, silent common just twenty minutes from my front door, was heaven enough.
Bird watching
Prior to lockdown, weeknight evenings regularly saw me hurrying after the No.22 bus, eager to be carried to drinks and dinner somewhere fabulous. Now, as 6 (more often 5) o’clock rolls around, I am planted in our bay window, poised for the fly-past of a flock of green parakeets. Rumoured to have descended from a pair released by Jimi Hendrix in the 1960s, the joyfully noisy rabble have become the ideal accompaniment to a sundowner.
Over supper last night, through the doors onto the garden, we were captivated by a pair of blackbirds. Tucking into asparagus and garlic mayonnaise, we looked on as the male foraged for an appetiser of escargots amidst the newly planted peonies.
Good neighbours
I take umbrage with the notion that city dwellers live a blinkered existence, with no sense of community. This week alone I have exchanged homegrown lemons for almond extract to flavour a birthday sponge, and shared (wiped down) copies of Country Life with the glamorous octogenarian at Number 4. Usually concerned with traffic wardens and late-night parties, the street Whatsapp group is suddenly an essential tool for knowing which shops have self-raising flour.
A a recent VE Day street party, from a 2 metre distance, a neighbour pointed out the differing architecture between our houses. In doing so she reminded me that countless homes and occupants were obliterated during the Blitz.
In short, lockdown has shown many that a sense of peace and community believed to exist solely in rural areas is not so much dependent on open pastures, but upon the spirit of its inhabitants.
Whatever becomes of us beyond this, I am confident our communities will rebuild; just as they did after 1941. And even if the rise isn’t exactly phoenix-like, then let it be as bright and with as much fanfare as those rowdy parakeets.
