Member of the Royal Academy and famous as a leader of the British Rural Naturalism and Social Realism movement. His work often expressed the natural and symbolic relationship between human beings and the Earth.

His paintings depict, with astonishing use of colour and brushwork, the splendour of the toil of the peasant. 'The Last Furrow' is considered to be one of his finest works. His paintings are held in galleries such as the National Gallery and Tate.

Farming has changed enormously since this scene was painted and men no longer have to give their lives to the plough. Machinery has taken over most of the work once done by horses and farm labourers.

The way we farm today has a high cost to our health and environment. Intensive farming has wiped out much of our native wildlife such as rich wildflower meadows. Pesticides and herbicides damage the environment and cause health problems for us and for wildlife. We often treat our farm animals cruelly and feed them unsuitable foods to get cheap meat. One result of this is BSE.

Is there a less damaging, more sustainable way of growing our food? Would you pay a little more for it, if you could?

Once upon a time An old farmer was ploughing his very last furrow, he was sweating biodiversity from his every pore, he was thinking this day had come quicker than he'd expected, and that's when it came in to his mind:

a spring morning a long time ago, when he was just a little lad and when his mother was grabbing him by the shoulders, and saying, in a very scary way, this : "Listen to me my little man, and listen to me now, one day, and that day may be sooner than you think, a Gentleman is going to ask you some riddles, and, AND if you do not know the answers to those riddles, there will be Hell to pay… Believe!"

Those riddles were these : 'what is higher than a tree?' 'what is deeper than the sea?' 'what is heavier than lead?' 'what is better than good bread?' 'what is whiter than white milk?' 'what is softer than soft silk?' 'what is sharper than a thorn?' 'what is louder than a horn?' 'what is greener than the grass?' 'what lies behind the Gentleman's smooth mask?'

"Tell me the answers to the riddles mammy," the little lad implored, and the old farmer ploughing his last ever furrow smiled, "ah, my bright, mischievous little elf, these answers you must find out for yourself."

The mammy was a lovely woman but she could be awful severe sometimes. The very last furrow, he knew it; the thoughts he was ploughing through his mind were these: I've lived my whole life on this farm, a local lad, boys, me, these fields and hereabouts have been my whole world, I always tried to plough a straight line, I always ploughed a straight line. And I thank Heaven I never had to work in no mine, or no factory, or no cotton mill, no I wouldn't have taken to that, locked up like some poor convict type for fourteen, fifteen, sixteen hours a day, what kind of a life would that be?

Give me Mother Nature every time, I've seen wonders in these fields, met my June in these fine fields, and she were every month rolled into one, we courted, married, raised five grand lads in these sweet, bright fields, our nourishment they've provided.

I believe I know a story for every bird and beast that ever has crawled or roamed or flown these fields… Ah! I picked up the great Will Watson's gauntlet all right, best ploughman in the county he was, until there was me, I ploughed the straighter furrow, ploughed it in the better time, it was a big thing at the time; it was a big thing for a long time; ha! by Heaven it's still a big thing now, the day I beat the great Will Watson well and true!

It's a funny thing mind: the thing I remember most bright is the night of that Harvest dance, the night I danced with Cassandra Blair all night, but then, if you'd known Cassie Blair, my boys, you'd understand all right just why I remember it so well, now don't get me wrong, all we did was dance, just dance, but we danced so sweet and slow, June wasn't so pleased though, when she got back from her mother's and heard the good news from a well-wisher, who thought she ought to know, I got into a lot of trouble over that, thought I'd never hear the end of it, ha! it was worth it though.But I did plough a straight line, even if, some of the time, it was only me could see the line. I don't think there's much of it that I'd change now. What? Is the Gentleman come now?

Right then: heaven's higher than a tree hell is deeper than the sea sin is heavier than lead a blessing's better than good bread snow is whiter than white milk down is softer than soft silk hunger's sharper than a thorn shame is louder than a horn the woodpecker's greener than the grass the devil's smile lies behind the Gentleman's smooth mask.

Ha!

So be off with you, you'll not be taking me with you! I'm off up to Heaven to see my June And know that there'll be time enough there for the odd slow dance with Cassie Blair