We met the other day at Garden Cliff in Westbury on Seven, Gloucestershire. I walked along the beach, contemplating the history of the cliff and how old you are. I had done a little bit of research and learned that you were formed in the Triassic period. It’s very difficult for me to comprehend so long ago, but what I did find out is that you preceded the Jurassic period, which was, until now, the biggest climate crisis in the history of this planet.

In 2023 I’m standing on the foreshore of the Severn, under a cliff made of Triassic rock.  Thinking about you. Looking at you.

You are about the size of my hand, and from a distance look quite solid. Angular, not rounded and smoothed by water or sand. A lovely pink-red colour, like salmon meat, you sit on top of the ground, which carries through the pink colour, with some strata of a green grey marl. Some of the other rock layers are linear, mud compressed in layers, others more like petrified bubbles, once liquid, now solid.

You must have worked loose then fallen from the cliff face, which is in a constant state of collapse. Wind, weather and wildlife have reduced the cliff over the years. I’ve seen neighbouring house-owners tip their garden refuse down from the top, bushes and branches bouncing and bashing as they fell, dislodging and disturbing the many things that depend upon the cliff for their existence. Your rockbed has resisted and held fast, directing the river Severn around the bend. How long can you resist? 

You have tumbled onto the ground. 

You sit there

You wait

I wish you could talk and explain your history to me. What the world was like when you were first formed. What did you see from the top of the cliff? Before humans arrived and changed the world.

I need to apologise to you, because I picked you up and you collapsed in my hand. All those years just crumbled away. I thought about how I, and all humans, are responsible for this climate crisis. I tried to gather you up, I really did.

I’m so sorry.

Earth Crumbles (film)