I came to farming late and by accident, and it was wonderful and terrible in equal measure. I'll never forget the first calf born on the holding, long summer days spent making hay, the taste of home-cured ham from our own pigs. Then there's the hard work, the vagaries of weather, the perversity of beasts. Grass won't grow, or needs cutting; weeds and pests abound. But once hooked, there's no getting away (almost literally), and I have gained a new perspective on life.

And also on farmers. This short collection of poems records the often grim business of farms and farm workers in and around an area of South Devon, and reveals something of the often uncomfortable compromises struck between traditional farming methods and the demands of modern commercial agriculture. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, but there is a fair whack of truth in here somewhere.

“For Hilary Menos, farming life is a natural seam. The poems flow like wealth from an unstoppable source: brutal, beautiful, brilliant.”
– Helena Nelson

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