Customer Reviews

A Cottage on the Moss

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I've always been drawn to that genre of books that describe making a home-a place to live and raise a family--in the wilds, against all odds. At the top of my list would have to be Margret Wittmer's classic tale, FLOREANA, A Woman's Pilgrimage to the Galapagos, which first appeared in English in 1961. Wittmer's tale of arriving (5 months pregnant) with her husband in 1932 to the island of Floreana from her native Germany and staying on (for generations) is a true adventure story, a historical account, and a treasure. I have also enjoyed the much more recent DRIVING OVER LEMONS, Chris Stewart's humorous and warming account of setting up residence with his family in rural Andalusia. The Galapagos--certainly; Andalusia--maybe; but jolly old England? What could such a civilized first-world locale have to contribute to this genre?

Remarkably, Lawrence Dyer's A COTTAGE ON THE MOSS offers a unique contribution. The book chronicles the story of Lawrence and Christine Dyer in their search for a home and their eventual purchase of a tiny and remote stone cottage built over 200 years ago on a peat bog in the Northern Peak District. Dyer is a natural writer and his story of first being drawn to the area and then to the cottage, of making it habitable (and warm enough!), and of trying to find a livelihood that will bring him closer to the land--Dyer and his wife are both teachers; ultimately they settle on raising Shetland ponies--is a beautifully told tale of struggle against harsh weather, long and severe winters, isolation, a string of bizarre car crashes, rodent and insect infestations... More importantly, it is about the relationships one forms with the animals one lives with and cares for, and the land itself. One of the book's charms is that Dyer is not afraid to admit to and chronicle his mistakes, and so we learn with him: about foal birthing, gardening, house repair in a forbidding but awe-inspiring landscape. Writes Dyer: "If I were one of the curlews and could fly over the Moss I'd see the whole landscape from a better perspective. I'd see the broad horseshoe of hills that surround the Moss and run off to the west, the tops of all the peaks as a mass of jagged rocks and stone formations. On the moss itself I'd see the northern end sloping gently down at first then plunging into a deep river valley... Our imaginary curlew flying over the Moss and looking down at the brook's attempts at valley-making would see our little cottage close by, thrown up out of the gritstone that is the very bones of the land..."

"The very bones of the land..." I love that phrase. Dyer's account of tending to and learning from the very bones of the land is rich in detail, generous and inspiring.