Land

Mum and M having a coffee break during a tough day clearing undergrowth in our vineyard. We're looking south-west over Korb towards Stuttgart. We call it a 'vineyard'; in fact it's a plot of land within a larger vineyard which produces 'Korber Kopf', a light red Trollinger. It's overgrown and produces nothing much beyond a bumper crop of cherries from a few trees at the back.

This little plot of land, for all the paperwork and manual labour it entails, has a lot of sentimental significance for me. It's part of the family farm, and was given to us as a wedding present. It's a very tangible connection back to my childhood, long summer holidays spent cherry-picking, picknicking and going for family walks. It's also a link to a rural family past which feels a million miles away from my adult life but which exerts a certain romantic fascination. I know it's a romantic fascination because when I think of it I think of self-sufficient peasant farmers working their own land in the central European tradition, far removed from the post-enclosure latifundia of the anglosphere; and I ignore the reality which is backbreaking work clearing the weeds to conform with council regulations and putting up with nasty little jibes from passing old men who disapprove of the messy look and distrust my foreign number plates. Also, romance aside, I don't really feel comfortable holding onto a piece of land far away from my everyday life, however small and messy that land might be: land which somebody else could enjoy, perhaps even put to good use. But we've tried selling it, and tried letting it, and, well... no-one else seems to want it! So under the disapproving eyes of the local seniors I neglect it benignly, and lovingly, from afar.

Details: Minolta Dynax 5, 50mm, exposure not recorded. Korb, Germany, June 2004. Placemark.