Forgotten nightingale: a birthday echo on the heath
The bench is splintered, useless. I find myself on Arthur’s Seat, watching the hesitant green of spring unfurl across the common, a lizard’s darting movement a sharp counterpoint to the chill.

Lillian’s legacy: a village saved
Today, marking both my own and the memory of Lillian Watts – who passed in 1989 – a recording from 1975 drifts through the air, a voice steeped in the clipped vowels of a bygone era. It’s a testament to a woman who fiercely protected this landscape, a woman who, alongside figures like Arthur Cooke, wrestled development from the jaws of progress.
The recording speaks of a youthful cycling trip in 1907, a chance encounter with a Romany encampment, and her subsequent marriage to a man who settled into Crumplehorn Cottage, a name that itself hints at a certain rustic charm. But Lillian’s story is far more complex than a picturesque postcard. She navigated a difficult situation, relocating families – respected members of the village – from their traditional lands, settling them within the community, though not without hardship.
She spent her days cultivating a small corner of the common, a patch of scrubland transformed into a haven for rare wildflowers – the pale dog violet, for instance – and a collection of indigenous plants. It’s a remarkable, almost obsessive dedication to the subtle details of this place, a dedication that ultimately led to its salvation. The Wildlife Trust, brought in with the village’s support, eventually purchased the common, securing Lillian’s vision forever.
The tape ends with the haunting call of a nightingale, a sound now muted by time. It’s a poignant reminder of the vibrancy that once pulsed through this space, a vibrancy that, though diminished, still lingers. You might assume, without knowing her meticulous observations, that the air is thick with willow and the chorus of warblers, cuckoos, and chiffchaffs – but the absence is palpable, a ragged echo of what was.
Under the Changing Skies, a collection of Guardian Country Diary entries from 2018-2024, offers a deeper dive into this captivating history. It’s available now at guardianbookshop.com. Let the silence, then, speak for itself. A silence that, paradoxically, reveals more than any noise ever could.”n
