18
st
nd
rd
th
January 2017
A palimpsest refers to the practice of reusing parchment or vellum by scraping or washing off existing text. This was never a perfect process so a remnant was always left that was overwritten, but still visible if looked at in the right way. This term can also refer to landscape around us, the history of the people of the UK is there in the landscape around us if we know how to look.
Most of the landscape around us has been planned in some way. Either for farming and food production, the production or extraction of building materials, or somewhere for people to live. As practices have changed and people have moved around the landscape, marks have been left.
Our landscape is surprisingly ancient, whilst it’s true that the enclosure acts of the 18th and 19th century made a huge impact on the landscape, there are still many remnants of more ancient patterns of life.
Field boundaries and the fields themselves can often reveal ancient landscapes. Ridge and furrow is one of the more obvious signs. This practice dates from the middle ages and was an interesting result of ploughing techniques and land ownership. It can often be seen in the Midlands, especially on higher ground that was given over to sheep farming in the 15thC and not ploughed since. Low winter sun will often reveal corrugated fields, hedges that follow the lines of the ridge and furrow are likely to have been in the same place since the fields were established.
Another relic of an ancient landscape is sunken roads and paths. These are most common in Cornwall and Devon, where a combination of years of use and rain funnelled down steep slopes has resulted in lanes sometimes 1.5m or more below the level of the surrounding fields. The steep side often support communities of ferns and mosses, with wild garlic and blue bells in sunnier spots. The overhanging trees create the feeling of being within a green tunnel, lovely to walk down.
Finally, there is the human touch that can be seen in and on our buildings and surroundings. People seem to have an innate desire to write their names on things or make marks in other ways. Medieval graffiti in churches is a subject in itself (if you’re interested read the excellent Medieval Graffiti: ‘The Lost Voices of England’s Churches’ by Matthew Champion). The final image is of a beech tree along a footpath in the Cotswolds. There were around 20 mature trees along an escarpment overlooking a village. On each one were dozens of names cut in to the bark, nearly all on the same side (walking away from the village, the outward journey perhaps?). It’s just possible to make out the date on the tree in the photo: 1916. Returning home from war or just about to leave?
