Lindsay has lived in Beyton for 39 years and moved there from Lincolnshire. She got a job in the nearby middle school while her husband, Andy, still works as a landscape gardener. This is where they brought up their three boys and have always been involved in village life.
What does she think of when she thinks of Beyton? Lindsay replied, “Peace and comfort, trees and birds and bird song. We also have lots of pheasants and we’ve got one in our garden that perches on some high place and preens himself every day. We call him Henry because he has six wives.”
When asked to describe a favourite place in Beyton, Lindsay told me about her daily walk at the moment, with her two dogs, to Chevins Wood. “Beyton is at its best in the spring,” she explained, “and at the moment the village green is fabulous, all the cherry blossom is different shades of pink and white and the bluebells are out in Chevins Wood. It’s a special place.”
THE FIELD BEYOND
We go for a walk in the afternoon, half two-ish.
I wear comfortable clothes, turquoise t-shirt
leafy patterned trousers and trainers.
I’m with my two labradors. Bear is the yellow one
and Tula is black. They’re wagging their tails,
it’s spring. Bear is older now
so I haven’t been going as far. They get on
but he wasn’t keen when Tula first arrived.
As a puppy she was always bothering him.
Near our house there’s a row of lime trees
with their skeletons branches but you can see
the green coming through.
Everything about Beyton is geared for spring
and the new leaves coming out. On the village sign
there are geese and daffodils.
It’s hard to take a photo of Tula, black and glossy,
even her eyes disappear. She’s a silhouette.
Bear is a gentleman, he will always wait
for her to eat first or he’ll stand back for you
to go through a gate. He’s very concerned
if anybody’s not feeling well.
You’re not meant to go into Chevins Wood.
It’s private but you can walk along the edge
where I love the fragrance of the bluebells.
I stand there and sniff. Because no-one’s about
they’re saying the birds are singing in places
they’ve never sung before. In the field beyond
there are so many poplar trees
and when they’re in leaf and it’s windy
it’s like they’re clapping, sort of rejoicing.
Lindsay with Dean Parkin