Ross Raisin on Yorkshire: ‘What I am looking for, beyond the fauna and Flora tubs, is home’

The author remembers the emotional and physical pull of a landscape of fields, drystone walls and a view of distant towns

About half a mile from Heathrow airport, in the thick of an urban wasteland of warehousing and carriageways and industrial units, there is, improbably, a crop field. There are field mice and foxes, thriving in the turned earth. Molehills. A two-dozen flock of goldfinches darting about the seedheads of thistles at the field edge. In the single large tree, a nest for a pair of sparrowhawks. For several years, I have stared out over this peculiar field, increasingly aware that what I am in fact looking for, beyond the fauna and Flora tubs, is home.

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