never just a field

Lots of people either drive past fields or walk past fields or fly over fields or commute on rails through copious amounts of them and don't really pay much attention as to what is actually growing in them or what is hoppityhopping in them or what is bringing up young amongst their cover or what is maybe even smouldering in one of them waiting for the rain to put it out (old vauxhall novas not included). Maybe it's the thought that the last time they walked over a patch of field they either stood in a steaming pile of cow muck or brushed their summer ankles against yet another nettle. Or maybe it's the reality that for a growing number of people (including Lady Sp33d) the average British field releases far too much of the irritating grassey polleny stuff for their eyes and noses to cope with.

But I'd hedge a bet that the sorts who don't get to see fields full of something actually growing in abundance everyday would never treat them with such indifference.

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