Three of us – me (Ali), Ayako and Danielle – met in Ryebank Fields, a small plot of rewilded land in Chorlton, Manchester. In its history, it has been a claypit and an unofficial tip; now it’s threatened by a housing development. It felt good to lay campaigning aside and just be with the fields, not having to think about how to protect them; how to fight. We came back to what it was all about; connecting with the trees, grasses and wildflowers, and the expanse of sky with its birds, clouds and light. We didn’t say much; it wasn’t a time for many words. We walked around the fields, two of us with drums, then gravitated towards the log circle in front of the Aspen Grove where the paths through the grass go off in different directions. Rather than the Rad Bird, we were drawn to a create a circular gift of beauty, thinking of ripples widening out from the fields and how we were connecting with others doing a Global Earth Exchange this same day. Then we drummed again, sang, whatever came out of us. It felt right to gently share my poem, ‘The Song of Ryebank Fields’. We stood in silence at the end, still, just listening. It felt healing, for us and the fields. There was a sense of being held; a sense of acceptance, too. Whatever happens to the fields, the ripples will go on.