Teesdale, North Pennines: In this stretch between farmland and riverbank, the plant life is thick, and harbouring legions of insects and larvae

The poet Molly Holden celebrated edgelands like this footpath, where the passage of the plough never quite reaches. “The pieces of unprofitable land,” she wrote, “are what I like best.” The narrow path, between steep riverbank and farmland, links uncultivated triangular corners of the field, each headland bordered by the sweeping arc of waterlogged tractor ruts and hedges. They’re refuges for mugwort, docks, goosegrass and brome grass, now withered, weatherbeaten and run to seed, providing food for birds and replenishing the soil seed bank for the future. These are Holden’s “memories of former wilds”, the frontline in the annual tussle between arable and nature.

In winter the frontier, tilled and seeded, moves close to the edge of the path; any closer and the tractor might topple down a gully. Within weeks a counteroffensive begins, as red dead-nettle and speedwell seedlings appear among regimented rows of sprouted wheat. Come spring, the wild bridgehead advances further into arable territory. By next summer this path will be bordered with wild flowers, concealing runs of field mice that pilfer ripening grain.