Peat Cuttings

Wind pushes across open peat country under a pale, high sky, flattening the heather at the edges. The working face is a single long cut bank, straight as a ruled line, its wall dark brown shading to black at the base. Spade cuts score it from top to bottom. On the dried ground above, cut turves lie in rows to dry, and further back they have been stacked into walls, chest high and tight as brickwork, running a long way. Wooden sledges with worn runners wait beside the stacks. Behind the face lie the old cuts. Square pools from past seasons, they make a chequerboard of silver water and green moss stretching back toward town. A drainage ditch beside the track runs brimful. Along the face stands a row of weathered stakes, each one driven a little deeper than the last. Near the far end, on a dry bank, a small lunch hut of tarred boards leans into the wind with smoke torn sideways from its pipe.