Of course in Britain we’re always doing it – traversing the surface of a many-layered past; below our feet decades, centuries, even millennia of stratified remains of human endeavour. A city like London, for instance, rears magnificently from Roman foundations that lie metres below the present living surface.
Mostly, though, we don’t consider what we may be walking over; not unless it’s very obvious. And the very obvious here is the rig and furrow of an ancient field system, discovered on a December walk on Dover’s Hill, near Chipping Campden in the Cotswolds.
The tell-tale ridges and furrows of this form of cultivation could date from as early as the post-Roman period, but were particularly a feature of early medieval open field systems – the feudal days of incomer Norman landlords, their serfs and villeins working long, unbounded strips of land using teams of oxen to pull a plough.
And it was the manner of ploughing that created the corrugated mounds and ditches. The plough-share was right-sided. It only went one way, and the ox team stretched way ahead of the plough. At the end of the field-strip was a headland on which the team was turned so it could plough down the further side of the ridge.
It probably worked very well for growing. The mounded strip was well turned; the ever increasing depth of soil drained well too, ideal for cereal crops, while the furrows could be used to grow moisture-loving plants such as peas. And of course this was in times before there were field fences or hedges, the land open to the entire community with access to communal pasture. But by Tudor times, this began to change in earnest, as land owners sought better returns by rearing wool sheep, thus enclosing former fields, and increasingly denying their tenant villagers age-old rights of access to commons and wastes on which the family economy depended.
It makes me ponder. The stories the landscape can tell us, if we stop and look.
There’s more about Cotswold rig and furrow HERE.
Tish Farrell 
Problem is today most people don’t question much less stop and look.
That does seem to be the way of things, Beverly.
Good article and good information too
Thanks, Waleed.
Excellent photo Tish and lots to ponder upon.
Many thanks, Jude.
As usual with your history-related posts, Tish, I enjoyed the information as well as the photo.
Hello, Janet. Many thanks for those kind words.
Great article and thanks for sharing this idea Anita
Many thanks, Anita.
I am continuously amazed!!!
So happy to know I can amaze you, Thom!
I find it astonishing how often this very clear-to-see sign of a field’s past is so easy to spot. It’s pretty common round here. It never fails to astonish me and make me draw breath and try to imagine the area centuries ago.
Now you’ve got me thinking about the paucity of rig and furrow in the parts of Shropshire that I know. I guess it’s been ploughed out, but I would have expected to see signs around Wenlock with its hifaluttin priory. There are records of 13th century Wenlock peasants ‘throwing down their ploughshares’ in protest against a tyrannical prior.
Well, indeed. You can certainly see rig and furrow in Studley Royal Park near Fountains Abbey. Which is less surprising because parkland is less disturbed. Disgusted of Wenlock may not have ploughed enough.
You may have a point about not enough ploughing. The piory went in for sheep in a big way at one point (1400s I think) – the prior causing rebellion among the brothers, for selling 7 years’ wool on the future’s market, a practice which the monasteries apparently went in for in a big way to raise cash: cf Sally Coulthard ‘A brief history of the world according to sheep.’
I’ve just looked up the Sally Coulthard and promptly reserved it at the library. Thank you!
It’s an entertaining read. Everything you ever wanted to know about wool!
Required reading up here in Yorkshire, I’d say!
I think I lack for imagination when seeing these things, Tish, but, pointed out, it is extremely obvious from your photo. I’m still shivery/shaky and not up for pondering, hon, but I get your drift. How are you two doing?
Sorry to hear you’re not yet up to snuff, Jo. It certainly is a pernicious germ. I’ve found it seems to ebb and flow, making you think you’re better and then back-sliding. At the mo’ we seem to be nearly recovered. Hugs Tx
🤗🩷🩷
Sometimes I think my past is stepping over me
Ha! I know that feeling, Carl. Thanks for making me laugh 🙂
You’re right that we don’t often stop to think about what might be beneath our feet. It’s great to have people like you reminding us to do so – thank you 🙂
Happy to provide reminders, Sarah, especially as it’s a good way of reminding myself 🙂
Yes, if we stop and look. Thank goodness you did.
Thank you, Jennie.
You’re welcome!
I’ve not seen ridges and furrows quite like that before. There is so much history beneath our feet!
There certainly is – and we haven’t got to the geology!