Unearthed: Soil Restoration in Northumberland

Words by Hot Poet Kate Fox
Photography by Johannah Churchill
Inspired by Wharmley Farm in Northumberland

I get treated like dirt, 
like something people’ve trod in, 
on the bottom of their shoe.

But I’m part of the food you eat, 
I’m part of you. 

People don’t want to look down, 
but the world is at your feet.

Did you know there’s more living organisms 
in one teaspoon of soil 
than there are people on the planet? 

But scientists know more about space  
than soil, 
even though I’m the liquid gold, 
not oil. 

After the Second World War, 
bomb factories switched to nitrogen fertiliser production. 

Growth exploded!
After instability, uncertainty, 
everything just grew!

Everything was new! 
What could possibly go wrong?

Well, I became an addict. 
The more you gave me, 
the thirstier I got.  

No one bothered what was beneath, 
all fur coat and no knickers 
malnourished underneath, 
an eternal need  
of more and more and more 
artificial feed. 

Farmers used to know,   
as above, so below.  
Where there’s muck there’s brass! 
But now the earth could be sterile  
and things would still grow! 
We add maths and chemistry. 
Who needs nature and biology?  

Kill the bad stuff, crack on, 
agriculture’s a battle to be won. 

Like politicians, 
I thrive when I’m full of manure! 

Bring in microbes to exchange sugar with plants, 
feed fungi. 
It’s turned over by dung beetles. 

We’re the farmer’s army,  
we’re all on the same team. 

But something changed for Himself.

The need to escape  
fluctuating fertiliser prices, 
the uncertainty of global economic crisis,  
the cost of everything going up by the ton.  

He’d thought the generations-past  
flat-capped farmers were past it, 
silly old sods going on about soil roots, 
but they knew we weren’t done with dung.

He’s rushing round less,  
more of a guiding force, 
a steward  
not a boss, 
and it’s led to gains, not loss. 

“Curlews are back,” he says 
“I’m bothered about curlews.” 

“Grey partridges have returned,” he says   
“I’m not happy because I like partridges.” 

It’s alright lad, I want to say, 
I know you’ve not turned hippy. 
These were the signs  
you’d sped up too much to read, 
that I’m finally getting what I need.  

I feel springier, 
you’re walking on air, 
I’m resilient, self-sufficient, true self-care. 

No longer humiliated  
by my humus lack, 
I’ll humour you  
and give it back. 

Did you know the word Human   
comes from “Humus” which means earth? 
We need more humility 
though I know my worth. 

Powerful nutrients when I’m deep-fed.  
Humans are more alive  
when soil’s not half-dead. 

Traditional wisdom, modern tech, 
soil and farmer working together,  
mutual respect, 
allowing my perpetual rebirth. 
So many benefits from coming
back down to earth.