My land. My voice.
It was a bit of a schock for the system, this area with a combination of ancient clay and dark sand, seal sandbanks and heavy industry. It felt more real then a forest or meadow on such a cold morning, even though the fog made part of the industry and tops of the chimneys dissapear. And I stood there and worked and felt so cold and asked myself why the (..) I wanted to work there… grinning.. It is just that this is my land, and this is my voice.
We worked on two Burrows that day, but first this one with its heavy waterlogged dark sticky clay and dark sand.