In rural Ontario the land is a constant source of inspiration and contemplation. Rhythm, pattern, change, structure, interaction. My neighbours, mostly farmers, keep a constant eye on the weather as the working landscape receives and sends signals. Vast areas of land serve as palimpsests, broken up by hedgerows which demarcate, and act as connectors and dividers of meaning. While crops change, the hedgerows maintain their presence for the most part, more historic than the expanses they bound, peering from side to side, acting as forms of metric coursing across the region. In the linear world of the hedgerow wildlife takes refuge, native and non-native plants jostle for position, birds of prey scan for their next meal, the coyotes move with stealth, the catbird calls and nests. The hedgerows are worlds unto themselves, framing stage sets where dramas unfold, mostly hidden from view.