The Farming revolution

Its 2020, also standing for clear vision.

About 10,000 years ago a farming revolution took over the world, in the last decades a lot of amazing work has been done on the subject and the emerging story is that farming did not evolve as a result of need of possibly climate change as was believed before, but in fact it was a revolution of belief, a magical new start.

Behind this new paradigm shift was shamanic voyaging, people that used to gather annually or at intervals, but lived as nomads, and their magical and tribal trance into other realms of awareness is very possibly the very thing that made them come together for longer periods, eventually ending up in sedentary settlements. This is when they gave us farming, they were magicians and they took their magic and invested it in their immediate surrounding, changing the grass seeds that grew in the hills around them to the wheat we eat now, they turned wild animals into domestic cows, sheep and goats.

Now 10,000 year after, we are living on the earth we inherited from them, but we are at a cross road, because in a way we lost the magical world views they had, and the ceremonial, yet we still farm like they did, in fact we did not really change much since, we clear our fields in the way they did, and having no flood plains to count on, we usually artificially or in some better cases, organically fertilise our fields.

Yet 10,000 years of farming, and amassing wealth, and making the land itself more expensive is seeing us at a cross road now, farming is no as sustainable as it was before, and instead of addressing the issue we find technological ways around it. The UK is on the brink of a new countryside policy, which may end up as farmers growing nature instead of food, harvesting carbon emission sinks for people in the cities, and although this is an interesting idea, it leaves little room for the magical farming past of which our life is based in this last epoch.

We have spent years researching a model for sustainable integration between farming, tourism, and country living. I talk to small projects that confront the various issues, to understand how we should farm now, how should we take people into holidays in the countryside, what is the role of the countryside in society, things have changed so much, and yet there is this apathy, the people writing the policies are out of touch, and so those little projects, each working for years in his own sector, like small scale forestry, anthropologists working in abandoned villages in central Europe, farm to table etc etc, those are my idea of the real policy makers.

To help confront this issue in the UK, we are looking to come up with a new integration of our work with farming, that is now our main focus, this means we run a programme that is dedicated to farms, in which we try and design a new type of farming paradigm, where organic food and social innovation come together. We look for farms mainly in rural areas. A lot is changing in the subsidies system, meaning that places that rely heavily on animal stock, may lose all their livelihood, places like mid Wales and the North.

It is no longer an idea but a necessity, farming is becoming more and more so extinct, it has been abused by the ruling class for 10,000 years, so farmers were always poorer, but we never got to a point that they were not needed.

We look for old farms, and small and traditional situations places that may have been sold at auction, with an investor that finds it hard to see how to make money from the farm, hill farms. The idea is to turn those into the new farming revolution, where organic heritage wheat, and forest gardening take place, where sustainble forestry programmes can make the owners a living, and where glamping has a role in integration with it all.

We have spoke with over 200 projects now, so it is obvious that there is a new trend, and that although people are a little confused, there is more and more people interested in turning farming on its head, to come back to peasant farming. If you have this type of farm, or situation and are looking for a new solution please contact us to talk about it.

We can help you set up the glamping part, in some cases we may even be able to take the farm on and develop some of it with you, we work with a list of small companies that make yurts, huts, cabins and more, so where we can not meet demand we can engage others who have similar outlook.

I hope we can take the year 2020 and stop waiting for someone else to make up the policies for us, I hope the farming sector can turn itself on its head, and that we can see a more local economy approach and the return to the magical roots of farming.

The white race

This is another chapter from a book I am working on, trying to look at sustainability and Human evolution, over the axis of the nomad and the sedentary. Hope some of you will find it interesting too.

“Some indigenous cultures have divided the human races into this scheme, the black, the red, the yellow and the white, following their respective skin colours.

The first farmers

The agricultural epidemics, as we can call them because they rose from domestication of animals and living with them in close quarters, alongside storage of grain and little sanitation, were in truth the way the European continent placed itself ahead of the other three races, in a conquest of the lands of other peoples, to give itself an economic advantage like no other, it was very convenient thus that the sickness the Europeans were now immune to simply cleared the way, so they can come with little struggle and take the fertile lands from the Australian Aborigines and Native Americans, making them economically more successful then all the other races.

That “white” race, living mainly in Europe, the result of the neolithic revolution. Eventually took over all other races, in the biggest land grab in history, with him he brought the sickness he, was now immune to, arising from living in such close quarters with himself and his animals, his arrival and that sickness alone decimated whole populations, Virgin soil epidemic – it has been coined.
History has been written by Europeans in most cases, but the bitter truth of the conquest of the America, is that biological “warfare” did most of the dirty work, with up to 90% of the population dead from sickness in places in south America.

I feel that the connection to the psychic state that arose in man with his continual move away from the natural is not studied enough, and the link between his state of consciousness and the epidemics that arose around him is not really understood either. There are some really good and interesting works though about the connection of those epidemics and their influence on the social and political lives of neolithic Europeans, and from there all the way to our modern times.

There is a clear direction in the need for expansion by the European race, yet with it we also see a sort of counter force – from the so called neolithic decline, to the conquest of the mongols and the black death, the attempt to expand into Asia in the crusades and further through the conquest of the Americas and the indigenous devastation by epidemics, through those cycles we can try to understand the connection between man, grain, and his psychic states, and possibly gain a little understanding to how nature felt about our actions.

In Ecological Imperialism Alfred W. Crosby takes us step by step through the journey of man and his maladies, starting with the neolithic he later lays some of the the ground work to the conquest of the Americas, in the attempts of the vikings to land in North America, and points to the crusades as the first attempt by Europeans to spread into another continent.
He points out what an important role sickness played in conquest, and how in those earlier stages the European expansion was halted. In the crusades the biological warfare played against the Europeans, because they tried to move into lands that in a sense had immunity to the sickness, as is the case with the middle east, and in the first attempts on North America their supply chains failed, and they simply did not establish themselves long enough for the pathogens they carried to have effect.

But they did not stop there, the goal he puts forth was always for any given civilisation (or race) to establish new colonies of “offshore farms”, so to speak, to further their cause, creating a surplus that can be harvested to their benefit yet outside their own lands, that is the name of the game – surplus, more than is needed.

He explains how they took over both the Americas and Australia, the people of those two land masses were not immune, further still with the first Europeans came their domestic animals, something those land masses did not have, and even their European Flora, resulting in a total Europeanisation of those lands, were domestic cattle and horses now ran wild, among plantain and clover, with dandelion to boot. It was the last step in the Homo sapiens strategy of taking over, resulting in our economical and social systems, and it also drove the nail in the coffin for Man as a wild species.

With the physical ailment aside, there is another sickness that the white man carries, a mental one, maybe even a psychic one.

The spirit of the white man has suffered, to a point that nothing makes sense anymore, he is not tribal, he is not a great family man, he has no beliefs and values, and he does not really know what it is that he is following, constantly in a hurry, but where is he rushing to? Our one way process of domestication of nature, and the take over of the natural, has also left us with its marks, the world around us did not simply give way and accept where we were going, but more than all our spirit has suffered.

Western Society has no guidance, or even an overview, it treats all other aspects of life as lesser than it, possibly as a carry over from domesticating other species, and breaking the value systems and natural cycles in which it lives, I call it the white man’s sickness, but as we can see, the case here is not really of the White race versus other races, because in a sense all of humanity has been at this game at least since the neolithic but if I am correct, much before too, if the Clovis civilisation have brought down the big mammals in north America, and the Australian Aborigines did the same some 30,000 years ago in Australia, all the races of Homo Sapiens were always engaged similarly from the start, and of course let us not forget the way other human forms have gone extinct around us, like Homo Erectus, the Neanderthals, the Denisovans.
So we can see that Man has always been on this journey, or at least that it is what they ended up with.
Yet the Europeans were the best, or most ruthless at their game.

All those changes, the advent of farming, and living in one place, called for a new belief systems, and religious aspects that governed those respectfully, this tells us that Man had started with a belief in a higher power, and kept trying to bring that power along with him through his experimentation, the sense of power that came from modifying nature to suit him, turned soon to social systems and religious constructs, which were but a justification for another step away from the natural connection, almost a justification for being allowed to carry on in that way, like a new political power.

It seems to me that in this voyage of progress, we have broken every natural law, but through this journey we can see this white race, looking around almost in fear of retribution, trying to gauge if this systematic take over will be allowed, or will he be struck down in any given moment for breaking down everything that stands true and natural, we can see it in the religious beliefs of tribal godhead, or we can see it in Ver Sacrum, a tribal ritual practiced by Italian tribes when they suffered defeat or sickness offering their young to the gods. Trying to appease some larger force, and cleansing their own tribe from calamity as if they knew they took a wrong turn and they needed to appease the gods, in that we can see that the European white race, did not always felt like it can simply do whatever it wished, it felt a sense of wrong in his actions, as we changed our beliefs we kept looking up, wondering if someone will notice what we were doing, a sense of wrong maybe haunted us.

Yet through this constant breaking down of belief and value systems, the only real constant was the move on, to taking more control, by caring less, not so long in the past, before waging war, the oracles will be consulted, the oracle itself was still a living link to the belief in natural powers, the trance emitting gasses that came from lower strata was seen as the voice of the goddess of the underworld, Mefitis – an Italian Goddess of the foul smelling waters, giving the Sybil messages in a sulphuric induced trance, so we can see man did not just stop to care, and he did not divorce his connection to nature and “higher powers” all in one go, it was a process.

Obviously it was not just a clear line, because as humans we lack an overview over our march through the ages, we can not see man moving away from the natural system systematically, yet raising his head to ask the gods above and below if they approve, from time to time humanity will be almost struck down from the earth, the black plague carried to Europe by rat fleas, the second pandemic as its called, because an earlier one struck the Roman empire.
It was said to have originated in a mongol attack on the city of Caffa in 1345, in what we can consider the first ever biological warfare, the mongols who became afflicted with the black death threw the infected bodies of their soldiers over the city walls, the Italians have fled, but unknowingly brought the plague with them to Europe.
The Italian novelist Giovanni Boccaccio, whose father and stepmother died of plague, wrote that “its victims ate lunch with their friends and dinner with their ancestors in paradise.”

As a psycho mythological narrative we see the pastoral nomads throwing back the epidemic that has risen with the neolithic revolution, back at the furthest outpost of what is now sedentary Europe, as if the pastoral nomads are raising a question of it being a valid way of life, and in the process of answering that question, half of the Europeans had to die.

We see that our pathogens and parasites have played a more important part than we did in the take over that resulted in the Europeanisation of the Americas, Australia, and New Zealand, so in a sense we used the same trick employed by the mongols to conquer on. But what was our story with the sickness before we just learned to use it on others, what is our sickness?

If we can view the physical body as a hologram for human awareness, and so the affected part standing symbolically for the function that they perform, in this narrative of the plague, we can also view the larger body of man and its progress through civilisation as a hologram too, in which our choices gave rise to symptoms that attack our plural being, it is the story of the way we live.
I would like to take this a step further, and argue that everything in nature is connected, just as we feel things ourselves, everything around us does, in fact some organisms around are possibly more affected, so I am putting forward this notion, that the unnatural move of man away from the connected state with everything else in nature, and bending it to his will, affected the smallest organisms around us, simply because they mutated when a sort of equilibrium that was broken, to a point that they became deadly to us, so saying that our epidemics were not just symbolical to our hologram they were directly affected by us, in order to directly affect us.

We have to raise this question, of the relation of sickness and the consciousness of man, just as we saw with the conquest of the new world by the Spanish through disease, we see the mongol horde taking over the European world in a blatant act of biological warfare, as if they are throwing the mutated state of life back into the European court, no one wants to deal with the issue it seems, being sedentary gave rise to some strange plagues, we never suffered from before, and being pastoral nomads was not the answer either. It seems we chose not to deal with the question but just use the problem on other races, specifically because they did not have the same issues.

So maybe the pastoral nomad invasions of the Mongols did not carry the answer for the European continent, stopping as it did on the shores of the Danube, it seems that the long unconscious debate of Man and his way of life, the hunter gatherers and the sedentary, raised its head again, this time it was the pastoral nomads, a strange mix of domestication and nomadism, as if taking from both worlds was a carrier of the sickness, a people still not immune.
although as we will see it was not the root of it.

I would say that with the neolithic we entered a new phase of our evolution, and its magic was the cultivation of the immediate ecology around us through farming. There were places and times when this approach of being sedentary custodians of the earth seemed to have worked, and even enhance the natural world around us, the Amazon forest is arguably a man made forest, we changed ecological systems not always in ways that degraded them, because at times we enhanced them, and so could possibly have been the case in the Epoch preceding, before we were magical farmers, or at least before we learned how we can be magical farm and chose to ignore it. In that time before we could have been magical hunters, and so we see that through the ages, those two modes of living play with us, in a sort of recurring myth that comes to haunt us, and ask us, how we should live?

Yersinia pestis, the plague-causing bacterium displays many irregularities due to genetic exchange with other microorganisms, and many of its genes appear to have been acquired from other bacteria and viruses, it is as if someone tried to genetically engineer the most proficient biological weapon, it plagued Europe for years, going dormant with the fleas in winter, and coming back in spring killing an estimate of 75-200 million people in the whole of Eurasia, so it is clear that the neolithic did not leave us without mark, it was not just a quiet revolution in which we changed our own nature and the animals around us, it almost wiped us out over and over.

In a paper called – Genome sequence of Yersinia pestis, the causative agent of plague we read – “Many genes seem to have been acquired from other bacteria and viruses (including adhesins, secretion systems and insecticidal toxins). The genome contains around 150 pseudogenes, many of which are remnants of a redundant enteropathogenic lifestyle. The evidence of ongoing genome fluidity, expansion and decay suggests Y. pestis is a pathogen that has undergone large-scale genetic flux and provides a unique insight into the ways in which new and highly virulent pathogens evolve.”

So if we argue that genetic mutation has always played a role over the affairs of man, what is rarely looked at is the possibility of human consciousness affecting it directly, maybe genetically mutated bacteria is a sort of psychic footprint of the psyche of man mutating, when it broke away from the natural, the natural broke apart around him.

In Ecological imperialism Crosby says, that pathogens went from domestic animals to infect the humans that lived with them and back again as an explanation, but like always science seems to just outline the symptoms.
What could have given rise to those strange mutations in Yersinia Pestis, is it simply an opportunistic pathogen? for it to suddenly become the political and social game changer? We can come up with more questions, because here again like we saw in wheat, genetic mutation seems to play a strange role, this time it is harder for us to argue that it has happened simply because of us selecting grain in the field, the mutation seems to have risen by itself, yet had very devastating consequences over our lives, I feel that we constantly miss that the way our awareness is held modulates reality around us, we explain the symptoms rationally, and seem to ignore the whole story line, the question is what did this sickness come to tell us, what was it trying to stop us from doing?

Yersinia pestis, was not a new bacteria, the closest strain we have to the genetic origin of Y. pestis, was found in the remains of a 20-year-old woman who died approximately 5,000 years ago in Sweden, Simon Rasmussen
and a team of researchers have argued that it possibly arose in the “mega settlements” of neolithic Europe, so here again, we see it as a mutation that arose from farming, and becoming sedentary – the black death was the sickness we got when we stopped moving, a sickness that tried to kill us and that way of living. The mongols did not give it to us, they were just passing it back to us over the wall, throwing it back into our courts, because it was us who developed it first.

“These mega-settlements were the largest settlements in Europe at that time, ten times bigger than anything else. They had people, animals, and stored food close together, and, likely, very poor sanitation. That’s the textbook example of what you need to evolve new pathogens,” .

He also says, “We think our data fit. If plague evolved in the mega-settlements, then when people started dying from it, the settlements would have been abandoned and destroyed. This is exactly what was observed in these settlements after 5,500 years ago. Plague would also have started migrating along all the trade routes made possible by wheeled transport, which had rapidly expanded throughout Europe in this period,”.

Nature was simply not having it. Rasmussen further says – “We often think that these super pathogens have always been around, but that’s not the case,” he says. “Plague evolved from an organism that was relatively harmless. More recently, the same thing happened with smallpox, malaria, Ebola, and Zika. This process is very dynamic — and it keeps happening. I think it’s really interesting to try to understand how we go from something harmless to something extremely virulent.”.

I feel like we were ignoring the elephant in the room, maybe we are missing the point that we are being killed by the first degree of separation, a way of being is becoming deadly to us over and over again, and over the same issue. Does that not tell us something? Like I said it is a little hard to explain that it is in fact much simpler story, and sickness does not mutate symbolically around our way of living to tell us something, it mutates around our own mutations, the way we live and think, when we step out of a certain state of living, we affect the organisms around us, sometimes we get mutations as “benefits” like being able to domesticate wheat to wait for us in the field, and have docile animals we can raise inside fenced areas, and at other times, we get retribution, telling us that we have stepped out of the natural and that the natural is coming to force and stop us.

Because we do not listen, we have became orphaned from the system of values and beliefs that governed the natural world, from our own feelings and thoughts, and all the calamity in the world seems to have no affect over us, because with hundred years of mini ice age, and up to 200 million dead, I would thought someone should have asked the question? was this farming revolution really going the right way? its effects have haunted and enslaved us, creating killer epidemics, but instead of stopping to take stock, we became immune, to the sickness itself, and with it to the issue it raised with us about our life choices.
With becoming immune physically we also seem to have become immune to our emotional and mental sickness, our psychic malady.
In one brilliant swoop (that said, tongue in cheek) we turned all of our issues on the remaining races around us, turning the most severe biological and psychological warfare on them, to gain their fertile lands, to create more surplus, and eventually to effect the same psychic immunity to being connected, which they still were.

So this is the white mans sickness.

Man used to be telepathic, he knew that the voices he shared inside his head were simply the voices of the people around him, or further still the voice of the creator himself, nature used to talk to him whenever he quietened down his own thoughts, the rise of thoughts and feelings in us, must have been at some point a simple connection to everything else, we can hear voices in our heads, and feel things from outside us, the two biggest traits we have, seem to devoid of a function currently, what was the pragmatic value of their emergence in us?
Early man thought differently to us, he was obsessed with sorcery, and the weather control, he could see the energetic lines of the world, and reach to grab them, through them he can affect reality around him, but that in a mutable way that was simply part of his envioerment, that is possibly the distinction, being mutable, he allowed him self to be formed and changed by all of creation around, he was part of the eco-system.

I have portrayed all of this journey simply to point our connection to nature, to showcase that some meta-consciousness seem to have a say about our actions, in a simple and often very loud narrative in which , feelings and the weather, and sickness and our destiny all have a simple storyline. It points to our origins as a sentient part of the envioerment, we have had the tools to shape nature around us, and we still do.
We have the inner workings of a magician, but we seem to prefer to ignore them, questions arise about the way we live, but not wanting to try and answer them, we simply push them to the courts of people living more sustainably, and thus killing their connection to nature, so now no one can point a finger at us and say something has gone wrong, yet because we are genetically designed as part of nature, we also suffer.
Tracing the connection we have with nature, is a little harder, because the belief we affect the elements like that is very forgotten in us, so I tried to follow through elements which are more tangible to us, our crops, and our epidemics,
but there is a story in the way the weather changes globally and how it affected us, and in a way that if we could have traced it instead would have been the best marker. Unfornotely it feels like I would be no too much of a limb trying to portray it, but I will get back to it with regards to how earlier man viewed things.

I argue that it is possible we do not understand our place in the natural envioerment, I believe that a primal state of being, was one in which we affected the weather through our feelings, and our way of life was carried in a sort of inner state of meditation, in which we communicated with every aspect of creation, we could speak to the trees, and we could talk to the animals, not in words, because no words were needed, and thoughts if they arose were directly connected to the reality around us, It points out to me that man had a very different place in creation, one more akin to a warden, a caretaker. And somehow through the last Epoch starting at the younger dryas we lost that place, and with it the ability, or maybe as I suggested we started losing it much before then, when we chose to cull the mythical mammals around us.

With all this ability, we could have and still can create a paradise for us and every other being, we can cultivate nature through harmony, and meditation, in many times in out past as humans we did, but that immunity we gained to feeling every part around us, to the pain that we cause, have wiped all those attempts globally.

We have spoken about mutants, and I called them that, because it seems easier for the main body of society to accept that Human divergency is a mutation, rather than a mutation is having a constant dopamine levels and the way our brain chemistry seems to have adjusted to a “stable” sense of identity, giving rise to a crazy status quo, in which we do not get affected or move with any natural flow, our hard gained immunity, because that is also a mutation, meaning that being unaffected as we are, is actually a modern state of awareness one that has mutated from being connected.
leaving some strange features in us, like thoughts and feelings without a clear function, we can see the simple steps and journey we took there, and we see in the symbolic rise or the holographic information that our epidemics tried to convey to us, yet we ignored, until we reach psychic immunity, which we turned on the rest of Humanity, taking out those that were not immune, those who still felt the pain, and having killed 90% of them as we did in the Americas we ended up with this state of affairs, in which we cant even remember that we are connected to everting.

Once upon a time we were magicians, and we made decisions, we decided one day to control nature, and bend it to our will, it did not just happen because we started farming, plants did not simply obey us, because we continuously selected them in our fields, we had power as part of nature, and we directed it our way. So starting 11,000 years ago, choosing most of the foods we still eat, and made them available to us in a domesticated form, that was possibly the largest decision we made as humans. And it must have been a magical decision, back then when we still had power, was it the correct decision? it seemed that the natural cycles that revolve around us were affected in such terrible ways as if they tried to point to us it was deadly, but we seemed to have lost the capacity to understand sickness as a message, and chose to ignore the weather patterns, we thought we can choose for ourselves.

There is a divide in historical science which is called the Neolithic, as if one day when we chose to live in one place, or developed the technology to farm, we became advanced, that move is seemingly so monumental that it has been suggested by some, that an older civilisation that survived the climax of the younger dryas, came over and taught us, the hunter gatherers, its magic, and his claim is substantiated by many of our earlier mythologies.

What I find hard with all of those theories is that we treat the hunter gatherers as some kind of primitive man with no clue, the Natufians were genetically identical to us, meaning they had exactly the same capacity that we have.
Yet they lived in a much slower world, and as such had much more time and connection with nature, and maybe actually man was just the same when he was a hunter, a magical hunter willing to take on the mythical giants that still roam the earth just before he became a magical farmer, and though the Jury is out on the overkill theory, it seems very clear that wherever man went death followed.

We have forgotten what happened before the younger dryas, as if in every epoch humanity goes through a reset, and the world is destroyed, the Hopi Indians say that the world was destroyed a few times before, and that every time Man’s connection with the creator became lesser, and that is possibly the case with us now, we lost our connection.

I have dedicated my life to working with those I called mutants because for one reason or another they are still open, they are not as painful or false, and they still affect reality around them, so in other words they are still connected, they still have the ability to work with their feelings and inner processes, because they have not opted out, or for some reason they couldn’t.
I believe its our natural state, but obviously like any other species there are divergent strands in humans, and so some of those are born with new capabilities that are meant to help us onwards, adaptations, yet a big part of them are simply not as sick as the rest of us, they are still open, it is us that forgot how to perform magic, that got stuck. Try to explain why 11,000 years ago we made all the political choices that still rule all of our lives, and why we cant make any new ones, because the power of decisions is also a power we lost.

It took guts to wake up one day and say, “enough! we are taking over nature. What is striking to me is that we don’t make any new decisions anymore, we simply plough on, or we simply plough our fields on, we argue about climate change, as if we are disturbed that we seem to be affecting nature, with the technological manipulations that are at the end of our fingerprints I am astounded we still live the same life style, in our man made caves, we can engineer the weather now, why do we even need central heating? We can directly choose the genes to manipulate to achieve any result we choose, why don’t we have the guts to change nature further? and why not simply sort the ecological issues around us through the same means?

So our ancestors have made the last real decision about our lives, they chose to bend nature to their convenience, and from then on we just plough on. We can produce our food much more efficiently now, but instead of just eating and focusing on other things, which would be the rational conclusion, we got trapped in a game of storing wealth, or units of efficiency away, billions are stored in banks, for what end? a big part of our society is in still the same basic shape they were for the last 10,000 years. Where is the progress?

The truth is that through domestication we have become a feeble race, it is not that the Natufians were better, they were just a wilder, earlier version of us, and they chose to magically bind nature in a spell. We lack the guts and now also, the magic.

I study secret human mechanics, I call it secret because no one else really talks about it, so my life has had endless stream of the unexplainable and the magical in it, miracles are the stuff of the everyday, yet I don’t think that its because anything out of the ordinary takes place, its totally natural. I work with normal people, who seem to discover telepathy with very little effort, they can feel others from half across the globe, they can make things happen around them, yet they suffer with those abilities.
I would like us to wake up and find a way to live in a non-wealth-accumulating society, where everyone can simply be provided for collectively, and I would like to stop paying tax, but the biggest questions that face us as a race, are not really my main concern. My concern is our magical abilities, but maybe after all that is the only real issue.”

Italy home

From time to time we are asked to help sell a local home, here is a nice family home in the amazing quiet contrada of Madonna del Roseto, which is named after the small church of the Madonna delle Rose one of the 7 incredible Madonnas of the Aventinto valley.

The price is around 90,000 euros, which is a steal for such a cute little mountain home, Torricella Peligna is 30 minutes from the sea, an hour from the Pescara airport, it enjoys the best of all worlds, not too hot in summer, as it is high at 900m but not so high to be cut off in winter.

The Aventino valley as a whole is one of those quiet maintained valleys, where local tradition and Italian lifestyle is still as it always was, we do have a selection of other properties that we have asked to help the locals, sell, unfortunately because many people have moved away, many families have ended up with more than one house, sometimes as many as 5, so it gives rise for really affordable homes in some spectacular scenery.

Madonna del Rosseto, 1

For more details and pictures –

The pictures don’t really do it much justice, and it is hard to understand how quiet this little location is, yet still only 5 minutes from the village itself. You can contact us about this or if you are looking for a place in the mountain villages in the area, as we do have some other similar properties come up.

Solina, the gold of the Abruzzi

Abruzzo has a secret, it’s called Solina.

We have been eating organic only for years, trying to have a small garden where our travels would see us long enough in one place. We had an amazing teacher in an Australian woman who was called Ashar, I met her one day in Israel, I was living on an open hillside outside the village of Clil, the only free village in Israel, bought field by field from the bedouins and local arabs. I was given 40 dunams (9.5acres) of land to live on, Lucy was still in the UK at the time, soon to join me. We were holding a market day, and all the people of Clil came up the hill. This Australian girl came up to sell her little “Shtilim” (her little veg plants) she lived with her boyfriend in a garden, her life was the garden.

I on the other hand, garden people, someone once told me that one can only be either a nomad, or a gardener. Being a nomad at the time, I felt like he was taking one of my loves away form me, because I also love gardening, my real work is with people though, so I say I garden people, and because most of the people I work with are actually itinerants, I say I garden nomads.

Juliette de Baïracli Levy who has led a semi nomadic life, and wrote endless books about gardening and natural cures, potions and indigenous people, said in one of her books, “even if you know you are going to move, plant some lettuces, chances are you will still be around to eat them when they are ready”. This was our motto, the way we garden on the move. When we could, we would put down a garden. Meeting Ashar in Israel was an eye opener, through the year we lived in Clil (in the Western Galilee), whilst making yurt after yurt which were always being sold the day we finished them, she taught us the secrets of the plants, she gave us Juliette de Baïracli Levy’s books, and she taught us of a life in the garden.

I “garden” nomads, because those are my people, at times I call them mutants, everywhere we went when we traveled we would always meet one person, as if actually the whole reason for us to be in any given place, was in fact that person. I call them mutants because they never seem to adjust to mainstream life, they have certain features, a power that does not allow them to integrate into mainstream society, those are the people I garden. They have always been my plants, I water them and at times when there is enough space and time they also flower, although usually after a while they get carried on with the wind again, maybe this too is how they get pollinated.

Ashar was one of those people, we used to go to her garden at night, Lucy who came to join me by then in Israel, once told Ashar that if she hears an owl call she will know that she needs to come to visit us, we would stand outside her garden and Lucy who could imitate an owl call to perfection, would call Ashar, and she would come and visit us the next day. On one of those nights, laughing our heads off in quiet, because the owls were in fact us, we walked back up the hill, we came back to our place, which was a few miles from hers on the outskirts of the village. There was a set of tipi poles, for a tipi we were making, seeing that every yurt we ever made in Israel on that hill was bought the moment we finished it, we needed another space, so still laughing our heads off like two owls, because actually we did not think there were any owls in Clil, we noticed a bird sitting on top of the poles, it was a small owl.

Ashar tricked us back.

So I garden people, and over the year of living in Clil we worked with Ashar, in return she taught us everything we know about gardening, she would wake up at 4am because she would never sleep, her dreams were always Lucid, and that frightened her.
I told her that Lucid dreaming is actually a power, and half of the people I work with try their best to become lucid in their dreams and practice dream control, she said it happens to her every night, and she hates it. So she would take to the garden instead of sleeping. The plants were her friends, she will take half a year to make her breakfast, silver beat with a sprinkle of olive oil and tahini, corn would shade her lettuces, she taught us about companion planting and much more. When we go on walks together she would always stop to pick some fresh cut grass, thinking about her compost pile, even dead animals to her were just a way to feed her plants and trees. She was our teacher.

When we came to Abruzzo years later, we naturally started making a garden, looking for local veg to grow in it, we are nomads yet we garden, but we never could garden like our teacher. Reading about local veg and produce we found out about the Ancient grains of Abruzzo.

Over millennia, the contadini (peasant farmers) in the hills and mountains of Abruzzo used to grow wheat. The heritage landrace of Solina is a wheat that was only grown in Abruzzo, a “soft” bread wheat , it favours the high mountain land, establishing itself in poor soils. It was called – “the mother of all flours, the one that fixes them all”. Sometimes a sentence like this gets stuck with me, I wonder what they meant?, when they said it fixes all flours, did they mean they mixed Solina, which is bread flour, with the other wheats they grew for pasta, in order to make bread?, it makes sense because, Durum wheat which is was also grown extensively, is harder, in fact it durum means that, hard wheat, and bread wheat is called tenero, meaning soft.

Lucy, who makes all of our breads, found that using heritage Durum wheat in her sourdough bread meant she ended up with a bread that was slightly crumbly, it would not slice well. Lower Gluten content, and the difference in comparison to gluten in modern wheat, was asking to be mixed with another flour, was this the reason that Solina was grown?, did they mean it fixes all flours, because they use to mix it with their Durum wheats, the ones they grew for pasta, to make a softer bread?, it does have a distinct flavour so maybe that was the reason or maybe its something I have not figured out yet.

I have followed a similar thread with the ancient wheats of Sicily, my favourite one there is called Tumminia or Timmilia, a durum wheat, grown by the peasants for millenia, it is the one used to make the black bread of Sicily, it was considered the poor man’s wheat, although I see it as the best of Sicilian heritage wheats for its flavour. The Sicilian had another heritage wheat possibly introduced by the spaniards called Majorca, in contrast this “soft” bread wheat was considered the rich man grain, because the rich only ate of it, it made fluffier breads and sweets. We have experimented with both of those grains, in order to understand the story for ourselves. Yet at times what makes one understand it all is a bite into freshly baked bread, and eating my first loaf of Majorca bread I saw how it all came about, how the white bread could have won over the dark, the soft over the hard. And I guess Solina has gone through a similar journey in the Abruzzo.

I make pasta from Solina, which melts in your mouth, Italians like their pasta al dente. Mixing egg with the pasta, makes it firmer, but Solina pasta is never really hard. Personally, the way it melts in the mouth to me is divine, but my Italian guests do not always agree.

So this is our love affair with ancient grains started, after being in Abruzzo for a couple of years, I met an Austrian guy, Nicolas. He lives with a woman called Federica outside the village of Tuffilo, on the hills that border Molise, the two of them have taken to cultivating ancient grains, their own veg and herb terraces, the guy is a genius, constantly researching ways to make small scale farming more efficient, no tilling, no water, smaller spaces and so on.
He came to visit our project on the foothills of the Majella massif, and he told me I have to plant wheat, I was trying to make excuses, saying I do not know if I’m ready for it that year, but he would not hear of it, he said its almost autumn, and its time to plant wheat. I am glad he did.

He showed me how to fence off a field so the wild boars wouldn’t go into it. We cleared small trees and bushes and piled them high, the thorns in the pile and its height would keep the wild boars out of the field. I cleared the land with the small Benati bulldozer, and me and the volunteers turned it by hand. The group I had at the time was mostly girls, and they took to singing, one would sit and sing to the rest of the group and the others would turn the hard packed clay soil, when one of them would get tired she would swap and became the singer, they all wanted to stop and sing, so the rotation time was quite short.

Nicolas later gave me a few kilos each, of his all grains, Senatori Capelli, Saragolla, buckwheat, and barley. we planted the whole field with our volunteers.
Because we also have an open field next to our other house a km away, and because Solina is the secret gold flower of Abruzzo, I decided that if we are already at it, Ill better plant that too, I got Marziale, our neighbour to plow that field for us, and we hand planted the Solina I got from a local organic mill in Moscufo by Pescara by hand.

Wheat has been domesticated over 11,000 years ago or so, In fact I would say that maybe wheat was really our first crop, there is a line with wheat that extends all the way back, it was the crop that made us all sedentary, it allowed us all as a people to live in larger communities, I guess because most of my adult life was nomadic, yet now trying to stay put in one place, It made sense to grow this primal crop.
Sustenance farming, or peasant farmers did not grow wheat for profit, maybe this is the reason we have lost so much of our ancient grains, because people became farmers, so if peasants grew food for themselves, farmers grow it for others, and for money.

Grain was brought by hand with people when they traveled to other lands, Saragolla was brought to the Abruzzo by a Bulgarian people, its name meaning yellow grain, it is derived from khorasan wheat, Bob Quinn has noticing that grain first in the Montana county fair in the 1960, decided to preserve it and he branded it Kamut, after noticing that people who ate it did not report the same health problems that they usually encountered from eating modern wheat.

It is said that it was actually Saragolla from Abruzzo that was the grain used to make Kamut, which is now a world renown brand, though I do not know if it is true or just another one of the local tales, as they take pride in their history, even if that grain was actually brought to them by another people in turn.
Ancient grains grown over decades, adapted to their terrain through natural and human selection flourished, becoming unique landraces. In her book Restoring Heritage Grains, Eli Rogosa, who spent years preserving ancient wheats from all over the world, speaks about the french term Terroir – the taste of the land. And Solina is the taste of Abruzzo.

There is something that is lost with modern foods, in the not so ancient past, all over the world, food was grown by the contadino, the peasant farmer. He had a special wheat to mix with his durum wheat, he had special cucumbers and tomatoes, saved from seed. His apples were small, and his chestnut trees gave strong flavour nuts. Everything that he grew, had thousands of years to adapt to its land, he chose the seeds of the strongest plants, he trained the plants like I train my nomads, he gave them little water, so they will be able to grow without it. Heirloom strains of vegetables grew in his gardens, everything was made to do well, to taste well, because he ate it, it needed to grow on his small patch, and it did not need to make big quantities or meet quotas. Once he was made to grow it for others, all of that did not matter anymore, what started mattering, is how well or easy it grew, and how much he could get for it, and often, he still grew a small patch of his ancient grains, even if now he also grew modern wheat.

One day I was at Marziale’s farm (our neighbour), we were in one of the small barns under his house, and I asked him about a corn his father used to grow, as I was told his father had a special variety of corn that was legendary. Marziale who had a pig at the time, told me he fed all the last of that corn to the pig, I was aghast, a thousand years of seed saving and contadini life had come to and end right in front of me, Marziale took me into another barn, he said maybe a few seeds fell on the floor, we looked in between the dirty terracotta tiles, and managed to find 10 seeds, and I took them to our garden, trying to save them, but although a few grew, they never produced ears, and it was symbolic for me, as if here in the Abruzzo, I was seeing the end of an older life. Right in front of us, the peasant farmer life is coming to an end, this time capsule of a place, the Abruzzo and its farmers, try to hack a living from the land, but their land was not meant for making a living, it is only suitable for living. The throw away a millennia of taste and ancient foods, and plant modern crops that make them very little money. And so the tastes and flavours of our foods disappear. I saw it first hand, it was happening right on my door step.

All of my neighbours farm wheat. There is a love they have inherited from their parents, a love for the land, like their ancient grains, a thousand years of growing wheat, has gave them too special genes, yet they go to the fields to plant modern wheat for nothing, they use to eat it, but these days they end up paying just to grow it, because they can never make enough money from their little plots to even cover their expanses. Some of them have gone a step back, and they grow wheat or barley to feed their animals, or to make their own pasta, but whatever the case is, they take to their fields every year, because like their Solina, the land is in their genes, and it calls them, I admire them for that, they farm for love.

Over the years, with the introduction of modern wheats, and the demands of pasta companies who are the ones usually buying the grain in small mountain communes, Solina has become almost lost, saved by a handful of traditional farmers. People who passed the seed to their sons and daughters, yet still this old landrace wheat was almost extinct.

The Consorzio Produttori Solina d’Abruzzo, based in Sulmona says that “Solina reflects the identity of the mountain of Abruzzo in the most authentic way, and its value, expressed through its centuries-old history and unique genetic and organoleptic characteristics, it has been acknowledged and extraordinarily exalted by the European Commission (Directorate- General for Agriculture and Rural Development).”
It is a reference point for the Abruzzo, a landrace wheat that carries its taste, the taste of the mountains, it was never grown below 750m.

A lot has been written by experts about ancient wheats, and people like Eli Rogosa has made it their life work to save it from extinction, looking for pockets where people still saved seeds from their fields, a thing that has become outlawed in many countries. The idea that a thousand years of tradition and work could be lost, a wheat that was chosen for its taste, that has adapted to the poorest mountain soils, selected by hand year after year, to produce a better crop on the next, creating a unique relationship between mountain and farmer, could be lost just because pasta companies would have cheaper grain, with better elasticity, as it is easier for their machinery is a crime. This is how we have lost the treasure troves of our foods, we have worked for 13,000 years to create the most special foods to eat, and have almost lost all the tastes we have created in the span of under 50 years.
It is said that it was the gods themselves who taught us how to farm, and that it was them who gave us grain.

Luckily thanks for the good work of the The Consorzio Produttori Solina d’Abruzzo, this Ancient landrace is saved, Italians have a love for food, possibly not equaled by any other people, and the Abruzzi love their mountains, Solina is like eating the power of those mountains, in a perfumed soft flour, that melts in your mouth.
A younger generation has also realised the benefits, and fuelled by an irresistible love for the land and its old tastes, they started using it in a few restaurants that pave the way, you can now eat Solina ravioli that would also melt your heart. Pizza is served with Solina base. And so this wheat is now saved.
One of the few of small pockets in the world, that has managed to save its landrace heritage wheat, Solina is very special, because most other wheats have been grown in a larger area, adapting to a more diverse terrain, but Solina is a love affair with the high mountains of Abruzzo, the only place that it has ever grown. Perfume by lime rock and almonds, figs and olives, proud like the tall mountains of Abruzzo, and like them it grows very tall.

It is a winter wheat, so we sowed our field in September, by growing tall, like a lot of ancient grains it has adapted itself to compete with the “weeds” sown in Autumn it is usually already well taller than any other spring weed in the field, it is usually sown with less than two “quintal” a hectare so about 180kg. But modern farmers have lost the knowledge of their forefathers, because Ancient grains unlike modern wheat can produce several seed-heads from one seed, if given enough space, each seed can spring into several tillers. But local farmers, having got used to modern wheat, sow it too heavy. So it does not grow as many tillers from each plant as it could, and the seed heads tend to grow smaller, a thing that convinces them that modern wheat is really much better, making championing ancient grains a little harder with them.

We sowed our wheat by hand, scattering it, that feeling of walking with a sack of ancient wheat in front of the sleeping goddess, majella, that gentle giant that hovers around central Abruzzo, is a romance, a love affair, in which one is allowed to taste an older life, this is the core feeling of being a peasant farmer, that love, the brisk cold of morning, and the smell of wet earth, growing wheat is a ritual that has been passed in our genes, and growing it to eat yourself, is also part of the magic, because by growing it for others, you remove yourself from the process, But that feeling of belonging is the core feeling, that magic is a big part of why our foods used to taste better, its a certain alchemy that has been lost, now that we grow it for profit, or in the case of the Abruzzi who grow it for no profit, it is hard for one to cultivate that feeling, and the wheat itself suffers.

Next to our fields there are two small houses that have been left standing ,although just barely, the plaster falling of the walls and the red terracotta tiles are all in disarray, yet the oak tree and the houses, the mountain and the hills, paint this picture, we walk scattering grain like the contadini. What a gift it is to be sowing their wheat, in the same fields where it used to be sown, next to their old houses. Only 50 years ago they themselves lived that life. Now it was left to us to appreciate and I was giving thanks while planting that wheat for the land that took us in, I know we are nomads, and maybe we will always be so, yet growing the first crop that took us from being hunter gatherers and turned us sedentary was also an attempt of sort for us to settle down.

Spring has come and our wheat was the tallest, because we live on a hill, going down into the Aventino valley, one can see all the fields on both sides of the river, each farmer has a few plots, so it is a carpet of different colours, green and yellow, at times it goes red with Sulla, and blue with the chicory flowers.

The year we planted wheat saw some of my neighbours planting modern wheat all around our little field. It was a remarkable contradiction, we were the foreigners, growing their traditional wheat, their landrace grain, while they planted modern wheat, using fertilisers, and herbicides.

One day in summer, I remember looking up from La Difesa, which is our bottom house towards the Solina field, I could see all the patch work of fields stretching up the hill in between the oaks, the modern wheat lay in big yellow patches, the field that was sprayed with herbicides in order to save the wheat for the combine harvester, was all brown, yet in the middle of this carpet of yellow, brown and blue, was a golden spot, like a small heart. Our Solina.

Italy is a country, yet its people hold their alliance with their own village, they are not a political people, thousands years of empire and government had taught them that their politicians would look only after themselves, they do not even hold much stock in their respective region, but their village is like a small nation, their pride. Coming here from the UK makes this very evident. In the UK rural identity is very lost, people have bought so much into the countryside it is rare it can hold its history, and tradition. The mountain regions of Italy is a small pocket where tradition and love for the land is still intact.
And Abruzzo is possibly one of the best preserved areas.

So being foreigners we appreciate it like magic, my heart goes to my neighbours, going out with their small tracked tractors, into their fields ploughing into the night, sowing with small lights going up and down the mountainside, rushing to get the hay in, sometimes only in the afternoon because they now have day jobs down in the valley. The love affair they have with the land is evident, they sign contracts with the local pasta factory every year, so they are bound to produce a certain percentage of protein, if the grain is tested below, the price falls, yet the mountain fields and modern wheat can only achieve that protein with chemical fertilisers, so farming has been enslaved by a system, and they can not break out of it because of the system that buys their grain, they get very little help from the government, yet they love farming, though their tractors are often 50 years old, the old tracks still squick up and down in unbroken rhythm every year, it does not matter that they make no profit, they still plough and sow, their land itself calls the, it takes one of them to plough and the rest as if caught by a spell have to go into the field, another year is turning, and the beckons to be tilled.

I have made it my little obsession, for which I am branded a lunatic, I have taken to advocate their ancient grains, every time my neighbours would drive down on their tractor they will stop for a chat, in fact this is one of the main reasons one can not get anything done in Italy, as there is always someone stopping to have a chat, to bring you some vegetables, asking or offering help. But living on the edge of abandon, by the domain of the wild boar king, I understand that if we don’t help each other, we and they could not make it through. I have pulled their tractors out of the mud with my 4×4 Mercedes truck, yet equally spent many a day in which my neighbour Marziale would come down because my digger was stuck, or suffering some mechanical problem, is these lands there is really only the person and nature, and if something goes wrong, and it does all the time, one is left alone, fending for oneself, and I can often hear the wild boar king laughing at me, my Benati bulldozer will be hanging on one track over a slope, or my truck would not drive up the hill, I would be stuck fixing the water pipe from the river, and I can hear him laughing as he knows, that here in the foothills of the Majella, nature still had the upper hand, I hack and cut, I trim and fix but nature is stronger, living in the last house in the commune on the edge of the abandoned lands makes for another sort of conversation that has taught me a lot.

I have spent hours, syphoning diesel out of blocked filters out of my own engines, and out of the neighbours tractors, there was one year, a neighbour would walk up to our house everyday because his tractor stopped again, we would crank open the banjo bolts on his fiatagri, and look for the blockage, I told him he must clean the tank, but because they needed to get the hay in, there was no time for it, so we ended up going through the whole fuel blockage every morning.

Although they have branded me a lunatic for it, I talk for hours with them while we are fixing their tractors together, or when they stop for a chat, trying to convince them to grow their ancient grains again. They told me that the problem is actually that in the current system no one will buy their grain. The other thing is that growing Solina organically means that the field is infested with weeds, and the combine harvester has to deal with those in the harvest, and although a mill can potentially deal with all the other seeds present in the grain and clean it, it is also a source of pride to produce a clean grain they send to the mill or the pasta factory, they love to see only the wheat in the field, once people grew grain for taste, amounts did not matter as much, because you could only eat so much, or barter so much with, an acre of land or two would be more than enough, and growing wheat is easy. I couldn’t argue with their logic, and I understood the problem is much deeper than them not wanting to grow ancient wheat, I felt like I’m trying to sell ice to the eskimos, but I also know that Solina is the secret power of Abruzzo, because it is unique. We came here from the UK, I knew if we can introduce this amazing ancient grain into the market back there, this healthier wheat, with its special taste, one that can be eaten by people with Gluten intolerance, we would had a winner.

I realised though that there is no way I can get them to grow it unless I could find a buyer, I talked to a local organic mill who agreed to try and buy some, even if it did not have an organic certification, something that would take time to achieve, and would need to prove its merits, but they could not take all the grain, as they were only a small mill. The answer came one day when my friend Nicolas sent me a contact that was looking for organic farmers to grow 3000 hectares of heritage wheats all over Italy.

I spent hours on the phone trying to convince the company director to come to our local commune and arrange to talk to the farmers, our mayor agreed to give us the meeting room in the commune and Marco Bertelli who runs the Programme came and talk to the farmers. it was a last moment affair, and we did not advertise it that well, so the room was not exactly full, but Marco gave a two hour lecture about ancient grains.

He spoke about their programme, of how they have created a system of selection that sees organic production yield more than modern, he offered contracts of 75 euro a quintal (100 kg) which is about 3 times what they were getting for their modern wheat. He talked about spelt, specifying its health benefits, telling the audience how modern wheat destroys the gut, because its gluten can not be digested in the same way, saying that all of our health problems actually start in the gut, which becomes blocked by this modern gluten, which is very different from the one present in ancient grains. He suggested that a simple the way to cure people would be be to mix wholemeal spelt that is milled with the husk, with another grain like Saragolla, so not only one will end up with a superior taste pasta, one would also heal the human race from its modern day affliction and gut problems on the way.

It was an amazing lecture. He brought with him a selection of grain they cultivate through the system, showing how through this Programme, by selecting the grain every year, through a machine that chooses only the biggest seeds, through fertilising each one directly with organic fertilisers they were achieving wheat seed heads that was three time the size. His wheats were long and big, he gave every person a packet of pasta of that same spelt and ancient wheat mix.

I ended up trying to get the locals on to that new contract, I was a little beyond my pay grade, I was trespassing into their livelihood, and pride. I did not want to teach them how to farm, but I really felt like this obsession I had of seeing them grow their own traditional grain is a dream that must be realised. We spent months of talking to a bunch of farmers, and driving around with my friend Angela Schmel who was worked with me on this programme, trying to convince people. We even tried renting fields that we can cultivate ourselves, if that was really the only way we can convince them, yet I got nowhere.

I had two neighbours who agreed to try it, but in the end one had no money for the seed, and the other already planted modern wheat for the year. I have lost another year in my battle for Solina.

I decided to try and plant my own Solina again, we spent a week harvesting it by hand, my two volunteers working in the hot sun with me, we cut the wheat with a sickle like farmers did for a thousand years. that was the fun part, possibly even more romantic than sowing it under the mountain gaze, cutting the tall sheaths of Solina, lying gold now in bunches we tied together with string. I filled the small corrugated iron shed to the top with our own grain, harvesting the small field with the grain Nicolas gave me, we had our own wheat.

But we needed to thresh it, such a small scale production does not merit the combine harvester even going into the field, and although I spoke with the local guy who harvests everyones wheat, he said that it will take so much time to clean the harvester completely, and that the grain will just get mixed with the other modern wheat. So we thrashed it by hand, beating the sheaths down with a stick, Bastonare, is how it is called, derived from bastone – to beat with a stick. We got a little over 200 kilos of Solina from that small patch.

So seeing I couldn’t convince anyone else to grow it, I decided I will plant my own grain again, Marziale my neighbour agreed to sow it on his fields, I offered to try to sell it for him later, and asked for my own grain back so I can have some to plant again, he offered me twice what I gave him, a friend from Teramo who also spent some years growing his own heritage wheat asked if he can plant his with ours as he lost his land. So we ended up sowing 3 hectares of land that year.
It was a relief not to have to prepare the field by hand, and knowing the wheat can now be also harvested by the combine harvester made me relax, we had enough quantity. And even if we could not sell it, we will have enough seed to grow all of Marziale’s 15 hectares on the next year.

The Solina grew well that year, although the summer was very rainy, and most of the other fields were almost destroyed, but the weeds were also very bad that year because of all the rains. even the tall Solina was having hard work competing. But with some strange stroke of fate Marziale became very sick and ended up in hospital, the combine harvester was going field by field harvesting everyones grain. But although they tried to get Marziale in hospital to answer his phone, they couldn’t get him, that with the fact that the field now was covered in weeds because the Solina which is very tall and matured a little earlier than the other wheats, has now lodged so was lying low, made their mind to leave it, the contadino lost to the farmer, here in Abruzzo, I was seeing the loss of the ancient gold, taken to an amazing perfection by mountain and man over millennia, the fact that it behaved differently to modern wheat, and needed to be harvested a week earlier, and my neighbour being in hospital meant that our wheat was not harvested.

I tried to get them to come back, I called Marziale in hospital, we tried to come up with a plan of how to sort the grain, but the rains have come back again, and the wheat was ruined. I felt a little dejected, but I argued that being part of the farming community was like that, I was going through the pains they feel every year, so although our 3 hectares were not even harvested, some of them lost hundreds of hectares, and thousands of euros, and It felt good in a way to take part in their pain, because this wheat will always be theirs, and I felt the pain they must feel losing their farming tradition, the battle they fought with the boar king, and a modern world, that has deprived them of their treasures.

I still tried to come up with a way to save the Solina, I thought after all the seed is still in the field, maybe we can somehow plough it or cut it so it will seed itself again. But because Marziale was sick, we could not try it in time, in the end he sold his fields anyway, because he needed to pay back for his new tractor.

It felt absurd my neighbour was selling his farm to pay for a new tractor. But this is the case of agriculture in Italy, small mountain villages can not compete with the farmers down on the plains, wild boars, and weather and the poorer soil are all set against them, the pasta factories tie their hand with contracts they can never achieve, and their old tractors are only fuelled by love, because I can see no other reason why they still function. Yet in all of this what is evident is a love affair they have with their land. And one day I will see them put that love into the landrace heritage wheat, their beloved Solina, because it symbolises that love, alongside the taste of the land, the fragrance of mountain, its the love of men, and his toil that has taken a grass and elevated it into a golden grain, through 11,000 years of selection and seed saving, taking small bag of seeds on his migrations, we now stand to loose in our modern world the whole voyage of love, man took with his seeds a genetic journey of perfecting this grass into the perfect loaf of bread into a bowl of heavenly pasta.
Solina is a story of men, the plight of the Abruzzi. The tall mountains and the oak forests, it’s the story of the peasant farmer in this wild wild land.

I have this dream, to create a restaurant serving the taste of the land, the real tastes of heirloom veg and cereal, and Solina combines all of that in itself. The secret gold of Abruzzo, will be the bread that I serve. So Terroir is the taste of the land, and love is what made it grow, the feeling of belonging, the millennia clock that ticks in our genes, my neighbours still hear it tick, the land calls them to plough, the gods had given us grains made out of grass, and with it they gave us, who were nomads, the feeling of belonging. So wheat is a story of our belonging.

We fight to save the last seeds kept on the terracotta tiles, before they are lost forever. Before we as a people would lose the taste of the land forever, and with it we will be made to lose our place, and made to wander again, the gods gave us wheat, so we can settle and belong. It’s a golden thread and for me it is called Solina, The gold of the Abruzzi.

Of Yurts, nomads and glamour and the traditions of the sedentary.

Making yurts is something that happened out of necessity for me, not a love at first sight, as I held them in second place to tipis, lacking a central fire.

Years ago I lived in a community in South Wales, called Tipi Valley,
or simply the “Valley”, as it is called by its own people, a green valley in Carmarthenshire, covered in big oaks, with a small stream running in its centre, separated into three main areas, “the bottom”, “the top”, and “middle earth”. In the years I have lived there it was undergoing some fundamental changes. For years before, the people that lived down the bottom, who were also the people living closest to the earth, only lived in tipis, moving up the hill each summer, they each lived in a field of their own for the duration of summer, usually next to a small garden, in which they grew their food. Each tipi was in a small green ocean of bracken and almost hidden from the rest by hedgerow and oaks, the trees have grown wild and big through the 25 years the community have lived there.

They would move back down into the valley for winter, into two communal fields, The village field and the triangle field, situated at the valley floor between a bog and the small stream that run down from “the top”.

The “Big lodge”, a 25ft tipi was pitched in the middle, a communal space, allowing visitors in, it was where parties were held if the weather was bad, it also served as a sort of screening place for new people, because most people wanting to come and join in and move to the valley, had to spend a period in the big lodge, and through a long period of being harassed by the kids, and interacting with the community their character could be ascertained.

I have always loved tipis, they are alive, having an open fire in the middle, and the constant flow of air coming from under the canvas, makes life in a tipi unique, now days, I find it hard to go into one, because they hold too many memories of another life, I find myself overcome by emotions sitting by their fire, its like visiting a past which still lies too strong inside me.

Tipi valley was going through a period of change, people were slowly moving away from some fundamental laws that kept the community dynamic. For 20 years no field belonged to any one person, although obviously people kind “vibed” a certain place, it was where they built a garden or a workshop, so it was unspoken rule that they had the first dibs on that specific spot, if they chose not to go there in the summer, when everyone moved back up he hill, it was open to anyone else.
In the winter the sunnier spots by the river were held back for people with kids, and the older generation, the other side of the field was referred to sometimes as the “north pole”, as the north facing slope would not get any sun somedays, leaving the frost of winter on the tipi canvases, it was an unspoken way in which the community looked after each other, the stronger young people took to the less desired spots without having to be told, the pregnant, the old, and the single mothers got the morning sun. 25 years of living in community has taught them a tribal system, and in Tipi valley I could see how easy it would be for us all to come back into the the fold of the tribal, rituals and organisation was born naturally of necessity, living in tipis in the green wet hills of Wales.

But things were changing, to begin with the whole of the land across the river was in the process of being bought, which opened up the whole of the other side of the valley, and the south facing side at that. Much more than that was taking place though, yurts have arrived to the valley, and more and more people were living in them. Living in a tipi was still deemed purer, but years with acrid pine smoke and kids, nappies going black by hanging inside on the washing line because they froze outside in winter, had taken toll. The convenience of a yurt was alluring, living without drips and smoke, not needing to be as fussy about one’s wood were some of the reasons.

So I guess it stuck with me, I have always lived in a tipi, and seen yurts as secondary, felt like they were for people when they get soft. It is not that anyone can discredit them, having small kids you need to be dragging through the bog on dark afternoons and arriving home to a wet and smokey tipi could discourage one.

I have this dyslexia for meanings, and in regards to yurts, this dyslexia deems them as the harbinger of a more sedentary life, because now people started living in yurts, and that first unspoken rule that everyone should lived in a tipi has changed, other things started changing too, to start with people stopped going up the hill in the summer, something that was an underlying concept in the community, that followed with people not moving at all, and building cabins on given spots and claiming it as theirs, with claiming a spot came a more territorial approach, and the underlying flow has been disturbed. For a few golden years the two great tents of two great nomadic peoples stood side by side, yet for me it was the yurts that started the community on its sedentary phase.

It was like 4000 years of evolution distilled into a period of three years, the years I have lived in the valley.
I always seem to live in places when they change, I even thought for a while, in some sort of paranoia, that maybe it’s actually me that change them, but that would be crazy.

So from then on yurts stand for me as the reason for the decline of the warrior spirit, warriors live in tipis, and single mums and the elderly in yurts, and living in them means the end to nomadism, its doesn’t totally compute yet its an imprint that stayed with me, it was my direct experience.

Architecturally, a yurt seems to me like the fuller expression, there is nothing else like it. One can see the progression of concepts, starting with laying straight poles on each other, covering those with skins or felts, historically the first and simplest shelters were like that, and the tipi is the epitome of that initial design, given two smoke flaps to direct the wind away from entering the smoke hole, given a shorter cut at the back to sustain it with winds so it can always be pitched with its back towards the direction with the strongest winds.

A tipi is designed around the fire, not the other way around, and that makes it the best open-fire tent. Living with an open fire does not compare to anything else. Its a symbol for transformation or even the human heart, and having it right in front of you means you have to keep in touch with you personal transformation. It keeps a person a live, the food always tastes better, the smell of hazelnut wood, the crackling of pine against big oak feeders that burn into glowing red ambers. Having the most dynamic of elements right in front of your bed, there really isn’t anything like it.

From that basic straight pole shape, lying on each other in a cone came the second evolution, when someone took those straight poles, but raised them up on vertical ones, creating a straight wall shape, something that tipis lack.

Having straight poles with another set of poles set on top of them at an angle is very unstable, unless the vertical poles were driven into the ground and so creating a hut rather than a movable tent. That shape could not have laster for too long not as part of the life of a moving people. In order to give this form stability someone came up with the trellis walls, the first step must have been to lay the vertical poles at an angle and have them cross each other for strength through triangulation, and later tying the sticks to each other on permeant basis. Having the sticks tied like that meant that the shape again could not be moved, yet in a stroke of genius someone drilled a hole through both sticks at a regular spacings, meaning the wall is collapsable, so that new shape could be transported and erected again with ease every time. We can say that even architecturally the yurt in its design process must have had a short sedentary phase already, but now with the trellis it was movable again.

The new wall shape fold down neatly, and hold their shape when erected as long as they are held by a tension band or rope all around. This is how the yurt came into being. Finished with a central wheel, so restricting the roof rafters from being able to push further, and eliminating the need for trying them together, each rafter was held in its place by a square socket in the wheel, the top of the wheel was given a small dome that continued the bend, the bracing in it created a sun like design, at least with the mongols and the Turkmen.
And it was given a wooden door, in a collapsible frame.
It is really a work of art, each part is integral to all the others, and all holding together in tension. It is much more transportable because the lengths of the pieces are shorter. Although it would need a camel to carry a full yurt. But one did not end up with long poles dragging behind like the tipi.

There were some earlier forms for the wheel, of a circle of sticks that were tied together in a circle, in a ring of knots, so creating a wheel without one. But having to hoist the whole roof in one go was heavy, and only allowed for smaller tents.
The other form was dispensing with the trellis, used by the Sahsevan in their tents, with only the straight ribs going into a wheel, the Turkmen also had a similar shaped tent, one that was made out of old yurt rafters, and was either a cooking tent or used by poorer people who could not afford a trellis tent.
There was a village called kotuk, in which the Turkmen took that tent type called a gotdikme, they have given that tent shape longer rafter, and so it can have a wooden door now, the rafters were straight for the whole wall section, and then bent to create the roof, It is a very elegant tent, but again it created longer roof poles that created issues with transportation and again it needed to be pegged to the ground.

That is why the yurt seems to me to be the most complete architectural statement, the most advanced, and I do not only refer to tents because, timber framing, or even houses, never got anywhere close. Keeping to a simple a frame design, sticking to the straight poles balancing each other with some cross bracing, it is as if yurts have taken tent architecture into a circular dimension, while every other building form was still stuck in straight lines. It is complete and elegant, nothing more can be added, and nothing can be taken away. It is easily movable, yet its a craftsmanship feat of engineering, needing skill to bend each part after heating it in a dung fired stove.

There are two main yurt types, the Mongol and the Turkic, the first is usually made out of pine these days, and has straight roof poles, and the other uses willow in most cases, and has bent roof poles. There are other differences in the wheel construction and the trellis.

There is not as much known about nomadic tents as one would hope, Peter Alford Andrews, who we got to know and friend, is a humble Scholar who has spent years documenting nomadic tents in various locations in the middle east and central Asia. His work is unparalleled. He made it his life mission to preserve the knowledge of nomadic tents.
His work is also, even if indirectly, the reason for choosing the bent wood shape for what has become – the UK bentwood yurt.

In Felt Tent and Pavilions he takes us through the whole history of yurts, from their origin through a voyage of thousands of years into their interaction with the princely tradition. One follows the journey of man through structure, taking the nomads of Asia through a voyage of unparalleled romance, and change.
From being tribal groups, that lived in a special type of camp, with symbolic and ceremonial rules for each aspect of those enclosures, to being the rulers of empires, at which stage they also owned cities, yet a traditional thread was kept, a crimson trellis tent, a yurt in a colour which the ruler kept for himself, pitched in small city of other tent forms, awnings and pavilions, with cloth screens and walls, market places and harems.

Timur who saw himself as Genghis Khan’s heir, although not a direct descendant, still tried to invoke the former’s legacy, his tents were works of art,
It was as if the nomadic tradition was now elated to a symbolic form, poetic design, the trellis tent, the owning of which as always deemed to mean wealth and social standing, especially symbolised by the trellis, because that is what differentiated it from other tent types, was still kept as the seat of royalty, it was no longer just a tent, it was a symbol, or maybe we should say it was the home of nobility, because the seat of the emperor was usually in another sort of tent.
As if even being emperors, the nomadic roots we still taken to mean home.

Every part of the nomadic tradition took took deeper meaning with those rulers, the camp itself and its regulation, the nomadic was revered as a sort of poem of being, and each aspect was taken into a new high, with built in symbology, and meaning, the use of rich material, and design. The nomadic tradition has intersected with glamour.

Ruy Gonzales in his embassy to the court of Timur writes about enclosures and tents, describing 11 different enclosures or small camps separated by a street. Four of those enclosures supposedly were reserved for Timur and his household. In each of these camps there stood a trellis tents, a yurt, some as big that it used 200 rafters, which I guess will make it at-least 10m big, but potentially up to 15m or even 20m, although I will not think it was that big because smaller spacing on the trellis was usually used than what we are used to in the UK today.

Each of those camps belonging to Timur, his wives or his family was made in a different colour and style, with his own tents the most beautifully adorned, golden thread and arabesque work, windows and screens, the camp pitched in a circular plan. And if I make it out right, it seemed in some of the enclosures we also see adjoined yurts, but I cant not totally make heads or tails of all the descriptions, and in fact I would defer anyone interested in the subject to read Peters books, because no one has done the subject as much credit as he, and even trying to quote from his own work, I can not come close to describing the grandeur.

Describing Timur’s move to Bagh-i Shamal in Samarkand in the spring of 1397 he draws attention to how deep heavenly symbolism was brought into the life and court of Timur – “At the beginning of spring, when the sun in Pisces had moved from the southern half of the zodiacal sphere to the northern side, he occupied the noble and felicitous place of pleasure, and fastened the guy ropes of the imperial enclosure from under the Pisces to the power of the Ram.
In that Peter Alford Andrew draws our attention to the importance of astrology and symbolism, and how the heavenly and the earthly intermixed in the life and moves of this great tented nation.

Although they had cities of their own, the Moghul emperors in turn, direct descendants of Timur, still preferred to live in an encampment of tents, taken to even greater heights of richness and sophistication now, one their nomadic forefathers would never imagine, more royal tents and enclosures, moving with the seasons to the place of their choosing. It was said it took a thousand people three days to put up some of those cities of tents, It was like Burning Man festival in Nevada, a modern day art festival that comes into the desert every year and builds a whole city just to take it away, that is if we were to draw a modern day equivalent to allow us to try and understand what it must have looked like. Unique because it was a city of tents, with a richness never seen before or ever after, Yet still connected though an umbilical cord to a nomadic tradition, with the trellis tent, as the actual navel.

That Splendour was reflected best in the court tents. Each of the Moghul emperors commissioned his as a show piece, almost as if he tried to outdo his predecessor’s. The peacock throne, heavenly tents, canopies and pavilions, their tents bejewelled and embodied, with mythical creatures and scenery, sewn in gold thread, and speckled with precious stones.
The royal tents were made in crimson colour. We can try to imagine their lives, their love of art and architecture, the poetry and ceremony, we can see that reflected best in Shah Jahan, most notably remembered perhaps for the Taj Mahal that houses the tomb of his wife. Yet with all the riches and architectural genius, the amazing stone temples, they still loved tents, it reminds one of what the huns used to say about tents and stone structures, they say buildings made out of stone function only as tombs, and would not go into them, for them home was a tent.

The Moghuls loved to travel, although their nomadism was more like a sort of tourism now, they moved their city to special places in their empire that they loved, although obviously ruling the empire also meant they had to be in certain places, and fight wars, but they had spots in which they like to camp, to hunt, and hold court, moving with need or for pleasure, under the guidance of the stars themselves. We can see in their camps the nomadic form elated to a ceremonial high.

We can say that Glamping was invented by them.

Going back for a minute to their court tents, I would like to focus on what I think is their most amazing yurt palace. We have seen they had adjoining yurts for their own use, Gonzales wrote how in Timur’s royal enclosure he had a series of adjoining yurts, that is if I understand his description correctly.
The most amazing yurt palace though belongs to Humayun, who was somewhat of a dreamer I would say, rather than an organised ruler. An astrologer, he created his court tent as a miniature of the actual cosmos, built with 12 yurts in a circle representing each of the zodiac signs, covered by a larger canopy that was symbolic for the celestial sphere itself, it was called the trellis tent of the Zodiac, Peter Alford Andrews quotes Kwandamir in his book Felt Tent and Pavilions writing about this amazing tent palace:

“And among his inventions another is a trellis tent, which comprises twelve towers, to the number of the signs of the zodiac. And these towers are contrived with windows so that the light of the stars of fortune can shine through their holes. And the star of beauty of its arrangement and form shone on the pages of the events of the universe: the light of fortune shining through its windows, couriers of power hastening from its doors.
And another trellis tent like the sphere of spheres, which encloses the sphere of the fixed stars, surrounded the trellis tent on all sides, so as to to fall on it like a cover. And just as the crystalline sphere is free from the patterns of the fixed stars and planets this trellis tent also is bare of windows and trellises. Whenever they wish, they can separate the outer trellis tent from the inner, like the parts of the moving palace, and carry it from site to site. And this enchanted trellis tent is also coloured in several taints. A high platform has been constructed, divided into several fine pieces, so they can put those pieces next to one another whenever they wish; and when the trellis has been raised above it it finial, is lifted to the zenith of Capella”.

One can not conceive a more amazing yurt palace, so although Humayun was perhaps not the best at keeping his empire together, he did take the trellis tent, the yurt, all the way up to the heavens, and with that he completed the journey those amazing tents took in the lives of nomads, into a new position, an unimaginable romance of mythical proportions.
Unfortunately I feel like I better stop talking about the history of yurts as I am constantly unsure if I have got my informations correct, quoting Peter Alford Andrews seems to only belittle his giant, and the more I try to talk about the historical references the more likely I am to make a mistake. I have tried to make his argument a little more available to us all, in order to dramatise the significance of the yurt, yet I can not do his work justice, I feel that Felt Tents and Pavilions is a must read for anyone who wants to understand yurts in full, and his Nomadic Tent Types in the Middle East, should be a bible to any yurt maker.

The story of yurt making in the UK really started with Hal Wynn Jones, it was he that inspired a whole family of yurt makes. Being the first to make yurts in the UK, and also a good friend of Peter Alford Andrews and perhaps thus building on his work in documenting nomad tent types, it was Hall that gave the UK the bent wood yurt. These days people refer to it as the British yurt, which makes me laugh, its like some kind of Brexit debate, “we make local, hand made British yurts”, but it shows that this traditional craft is now practiced by local crafts people, and in a way these make some of the world’s nicest yurts, although I need to admit that the Karakalpak yurt makers have made much nicer yurts than we all do.

Hall taught a whole line of people how to make them in turn, and those have become the pioneers of the yurt making movement. People like Steve Plaice, and Toby Fairlove. Hal also made the first yurt palace in the UK, by inventing the Multi-yurt, its a shape the joins yurts like flower petals, each is two thirds of a yurt, open to the inside, something like the Zodiac tent of Humayun, except that the yurts are not completed on the inside facing part.

Toby Fairlove made a couple of those multi yurts with Hal’s permission, I remember seeing his first one on his website whilst we were still living in Israel, I told Lucy I would love to sew the cover for that yurt, and luckily enough when we arrived in the UK, we wrote to Toby, who brought his multi-yurt to a field in Wales where we lived, and we made his cover. We had to use a tractor instead of scaffolding in the middle. And so began our own love affair with yurt palaces.

Another person who we need to thank for the invention of the UK yurt type is someone who gave us the distinct canvas cover design. In the first days of yurt making in the UK, Alan Wenham, who later established Albion Canvas, was the designer of most of the canvas cover architecture we have come to know today, the distinct star cap, the way the tension band was made, turn buttons and D rings, sliding bar buckles for tension bands, and the whole construction of the roof and walls and their respective tying systems, he kind of invented of perfected them all.

Through the years as a company we possibly made over 500 new or replacement yurt covers, which just gives one the idea of how many yurts actually exist in the UK currently. We did take yurt canvas cover technology a little further ourselves, perfecting seams and certain elements, we also taught many other yurt makers how to sew, and although this resulted in us loosing business, it also saw the level of yurt covers in the UK reach its current standard.

Another person who contributed a lot to yurt making in the UK, was Paul King, and the fact he wrote the complete yurt handbook, which took an amazing amount of people into making their own yurts, simply by following his instructions, for years we used to laugh at this phone call that we kept getting, “hi, I have just made my 16ft yurt following Paul Kings book, can you make a cover for me?”. This book also saw the rise of an independent line of yurt makers.

There are others of course, many others, companies like yurtshop, who earlier on perfected the sawn wood yurt, through the use of spindle moulders and combination machines, making what I used to consider the best sawn wood yurt. Each area in the UK seemed to have his own local yurt maker, or it used to have one, because with the advent of online marketing, some companies came to dominate through google advertising.
It meant that some of the older yurt makers, who were the pioneers, relying on word to mouth and making sometimes a yurt a month, suddenly had no orders.
But yurt making is a tough business, because although it could be good money at times, revenue isn’t exactly assured, everyday a new yurt maker sets up, and competition seems to take out another company. So the companies who managed to survive had to diversify, and many of those have gone into yurt hire, seeing the rise of some of the most amazing yurts in the world. Big 42ft yurts, barn yurts, the country is now full of them, the biggest of them all to my knowledge is a 60ft yurt made by Castle Yurts. A giant wedding yurt.

Obviously even though we have been part of that world for so long, I do not know all the players, and I know that each company or person in this sector, brought something unique, they created the way that festival tent hire is run, the way campsites are designed. It’s a strange family of tent makers that seem to have changed the way people go on holidays. I do not think there is another country in the western world that has so many tent maker companies in this way. So the story of yurts in the UK is also very unique.

I think yurts came to Tipi Valley were I was first introduced to them, and the tent makers of tipi valley soon learned to make their own. Irish Steve who was a self taught tent maker, became the authority in the valley for yurts, it was him who taught me how to make them, although in truth, what he said to me when asked if he will teach me was “I’m not going to teach you, I’m just going to tell you what to do”. And so he did. I made my first yurt frame in under two weeks, setting a sort of record in the Valley, but everything was all ready, the wood was sawn, and all I had to do is follow Steve’s instructions. I kind of hated yurts because of everything I said at the beginning, so I never tried to remember everything I did. These days when I teach others, or work with my volunteers and they ask me to teach them, I just follow in Irish Steve’s footsteps, and tell them “I’m not going to teach you I’m just going to tell you what to do”, it seems to aggravate them to no ends, but I feel that in this way I honour my own teacher, even if he didn’t mean to teach me, it’s my attempt to impart some of the values I got from this great man.

It wasn’t until years later, when we were on the road and I decided to try and make another yurt that I needed to remember it all, but it was body knowledge, and so I realised that he taught it to me in a deeper way. I did have to reinvent the cover part, because we never made a cover for that first yurt, as we used a second hand cover from a bigger yurt. I had to teach myself how to make them from scratch, I couldn’t even remember totally all the different parts and how they came together, tents were just what we lived in, I never gave them the attention due. So I would say that yurt I made on the road was really the first yurt I made, I bought nothing to make the frame, it was kind of a challenge I gave myself, I used rope I found in a scrap yard, and coppiced beech. I stole a metal wheel from some abandoned building, to use as a jig to bend the ash on, and using an ads I hewn the planks out of an actual tree.

By then we lived in trucks, and although we still held the dream of living on the earth in tents again one day, I would say I preferred life on the road, and so I gifted that yurt to a friend, I felt more at home in a truck.

With the introduction of yurts and tipis to the UK, a new type of campsite and tourism was also born. None of us ever imagined that the whole of the holiday industry would follow suit, once upon a time we were hippies in a field, living under canvas, no one thought our tipis and yurts will pop up by castles and estates, that every person who retired to the country side would have their own little yurt encampment. Yet this is exactly what happened.

Talking to Jeni, who I lived with for over 7 years, one day in a small Agriturismo in Italy, I was asking her about Tipi Valley which was were we both lived together. We were speaking about the core mechanisms and the driving forces behind the community, what she said really opened my eyes, because I used to romanticise it a lot. She said the thing with Tipi Valley was that it was kind of funded (not founded) by the government, because everyone (or almost everyone) used to get child benefits or were on the dole. It was not really a self sustainble community on that level, I guess when I lived there and not being from the UK, I couldn’t get my money this way, so I kind of missed out what was going on.

So in order not to romanticise community living too much, although we lived in an amazing reality back then, with kids running naked into the small stream, and older people waking up in a wintery morning to rush into the snow, with smokey fires and communal meals. The question is about living on the land in a sort of direct symbiotic relationship. Indigenous cultures are now all conquered, and there is a sort of question if going back and living in tents, like native Americans or Mongols, is actually a way forward. In my mind in this “government funded experiment into tribal living” as Jeni put it to me, we have lived in a closer relationship with the land, the energetic rules of being a tribe seem to have arisen by themselves. A community that was not governed by any set of rules, yet followed guidelines of common sense.

Now years later the story of yurts and tents in the UK has moved on into a new format, it’s always a story of certain individuals, and how they affected the whole. Some of those individuals took the tents away from Tipi Valley and into festivals, into their own farms. And a new industry was made, maybe it is a sort of payback to mainstream society, from a group of people who lived on its benefits, maybe their gift was those tents. Yet with the advent of yurt campsites, and festival tent hire, the world of living in tents as a way to going back to nature started to disappear.

We ended up with a multi million industry, for people to go on holiday. Glamping was a word that was made out of two words, camping and glamour. It is not completely clear why it took hold so strong in the UK, after all the weather is not really that great for camping. Yet this new trend of camping in style seems to hit a chord. Living and working on a sustainable tourism programme in Italy I say that the way the country side is perceived is very different to the way we approach it in the UK. In the UK the countryside is seen from the upper classes point of view, even by people who actually work in it every day, so our holidays look something like an estate owner surveying his estate, we go to take the air, and walk the dogs, we want to live in style in a sort of mini estate, on which the grass is manicured, and where we can go back to nature like on a safari.

But are we really going back to nature?, in Italy, having tried to convince endless people that sustainable tourism in tents is the way to develop the countryside, I came across a very different approach, to the Italians the countryside is not where you go to holiday, its where you grandmother lives, its the symbol of poverty. Trying to convince them that they can keep their farms from falling into ruin, and diversify is hard work, because for them a holiday should be on the beach, eating good food in piazza. Not in a tent, and they do not want to go back to nature, they still try to run away from it, yet it was the Italians and especially living in the time capsule of the Abruzzo mountains that taught us the solution – Peasant farming

Another things that has made the countryside so illusive and desired in the UK is that our building and planing permission laws do not allow to build directly in open countryside. In Italy anyone with enough agricultural land can build almost any size house, so the restriction has meant people can not live in the countryside, and so it is more desired. I think and more integrated approach to going back to nature and tents, would be to develop the countryside in integration, using Glamping as sort of doorway to living and farming in the country, and to change our planning law to allow people to build directly in the open countryside.

Currently Glamping has peaked into such an extent, that people can own a second home, and put it to work for them earning money as a mini holiday resort, the touristic offer has to constantly get better, and so people expect much more these days for the same amount of money, and competition is very high, hot tubs and saunas, treatments and spas to name a few of the elements we have come to expect. I think that following the money has led this industry somewhat astray. I would have it go back to nature.

To me the whole romance of living in a tent is about the tribal, the primal touch, of living closer to the elements, we seem to have followed suit in the footsteps of the Moguls and now we have built yurt palaces, and glamour, people get married in massive yurts that may shame all the emperors of central Asia, except of course Humayun, as no one can shame his yurt palace.

I would have us all consider a different direction, in which those small campsites take us back to a feeling, one which we need so badly, the feeling of the camp, of being a part of a tribe, of belonging to the land, I would see Glamping go back to nature, in a sustainable system for rural development, because those are actually our own traditions.

Small sites with three yurts, allowing a family to focus on organic farming, and creating what I call a “silent engine” that gives them extra income, yet not taking all their focus. I would see a deeper integration with tradition and local identity too, farming ancient grains, and local food veriaeties and I would see those campsites as a window that allows visitors to enter into the countryside through a land based living approach, this could be achieved if we in the UK would wake up and realise that we no longer own an empire, and open up our planning law to more small holdings that can develop the open countryside to actually being lived in.

Our own history is not one of being nomads, our roots in the UK are of being peasant farmers, when we lived in community in nature, but although peasant farmers, makes one think of poor medieval people running around barefoot in muddy fields, it was actually a way of life of the highest magic, an integration with the land, in which we have created land races, where we took wheat cultivation to such a high, we made special varieties, we created those through selection, we raised animals in such a way that they had the most special flavours, whole parts of Europe were kept in such a way that our foods and lives were taken into an art form of living in nature, I will try to go into peasant farming in a dedicated chapter, so as not to repeat myself would leave that part now. So what I am saying is that it is amazing we have taken the nomadic tradition and their tents, to help us create a more movable and sustainable approach.

But the deeper truth is that it happened because the planning law is still set, not allowing us to really go back into the country side, and farming, I was on the phone yesterday with an amazing group. They are trying to convince the council to sell them one of their farms, and because its a question of money, the council will prefer if someone came along and turn that farm into a row of holiday cottages, than to have a group of modern peasant farmers take it over.

Yet I think the only real avenue of real rural development is by going back to that art form, and in truth I think that nomadic tents will need to be phased off into more local structures with time, I think that thatched huts are actually the greatest living space for the UK, allowing one to have an open fire and keep warm, they are superior to yurts on that level and reflect the landscape better.

I feel that we are at a cross road now, and that Glamping has gone as far as it can, and now we need to create a new integration with small scale organic farming, councils have woken up, they say in many cases, that its enough with the campsites, some areas have a Glamping site every 2 miles. So we are not really going back to nature, or working on rural development in any way, we are just keeping the countryside from being lived in, we do not help farmers to find new ways to make a living from the land, we have just postponed finding a solution, so although some amazing sites and projects have come out of all of this, I think its time to take it to the next level. To go back to the traditional, and the local, to go back to how people used to live in the countryside only a century ago, and learn from their ways before they are forever lost.