Xinhua reporters explore England's farmlands, where rural life and resilience define an agrarian heartland in transition.

by Xinhua writers Wu Liming, Zheng Bofei, Zhao Jiasong, Yuan Liang

WIDNES, CHESHIRE, AND SURREY, England, Oct. 9 (Xinhua) -- From the industrial towns of Widnes and St Helens in northern England to the leafy county of Surrey on the outskirts of London, open countryside and rolling fields stretch across the heart of England. They tell not only the story of Britain's rural life, but also of an agrarian heartland striving to adapt and survive in an age of uncertainty.

FARMING INHERITANCE

Driving off the road onto a narrow dirt track, a red-brick farmhouse comes into view -- three storeys, slightly weathered, but still dignified. Around it, the rolling farmland stretches across 220 acres, most of it planted with barley, wheat, and potatoes.

Here stands the Hilton family's Old Hall Farm, whose roots date back to the early 19th century.

Rob Hilton is in the field tending to his ponies and inspecting geese honking at unexpected visitors. The farm, however, is not his by inheritance. His wife Alison is the sixth-generation farmer in her family. Together they have run the farm for 16 years.

Yet, that tradition is becoming increasingly difficult to sustain.

"The price of a bag of seed has more than doubled from 200 pounds (268 U.S. dollars) to nearly 500 pounds since I started," Rob recalls. "Fertilizer went from 200 to 600 pounds a ton. But the price of barley? Still about 100 pounds a ton -- the same as 30 years ago."

Sitting by the ash-stained fireplace of the farmhouse, Alison adds, "Farming used to be harder work but better rewarded. Now it's still hard, just less rewarding."

Despite owning the vast property, their annual net income barely reaches around 20,000 pounds. Without government subsidies, the farm would not survive. "Some big farms have professional managers who know how to play the system and drain the funds," Alison says. "Family farms like ours can't even keep up with the paperwork."

Before Brexit, British farmers received direct support under the European Union's Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). Now, under the British government's new Environmental Land Management (ELM) and Sustainable Farming Incentive (SFI) schemes, payments are linked not to output but to environmental outcomes -- such as soil conservation and biodiversity.

Rob scrolls through his phone, showing a satellite map of his land: some fields designated for grain, others shaded differently for ecological crops.

"The government gives you a 'landscape payment' for the view -- sunflowers, wildflowers, that sort of thing," he says, nodding toward a field of sunflowers nearby. "But they don't really know how much wheat or barley is left in the country. I don't think our ministers walk the countryside anymore -- they don't understand what it's like for farmers."

Their twelve-year-old daughter, Poppy, already helps with the harvest after school, marking the next link in a long chain of family tradition. "Poppy once said she might rent out the farm and get a 'real job'. That's her choice," Alison shrugs. "But I hope she remembers what this place means."

BETWEEN COWS AND TAXES

If the Hiltons' story is about endurance, the Fords' is about resilience.

In the green pastures near Nantwich, Cheshire, 71-year-old Rob Ford runs a 300-acre dairy farm called Brindley Hall Farm with more than 270 cows. Each year, they produce around two million litres of milk.

The milking workers start their work before dawn. "Every cow gets its hooves washed and its milk tested before leaving," Rob explains. "Milk safety comes first."

He has worked this land since 1975, through every season and storm. "Farming isn't easy," he says. "You work whatever the weather, but being out here with the animals makes it worth it."

His daughter Beth, born in 1993, studied agriculture at university and returned to the family farm after graduation. She moves with practiced ease -- tagging calves' ears, checking feed, calming the animals with a gentle touch.

The family's biggest challenges today aren't the cows or the weather, but costs and taxes.

"The price we get for milk is 40 pence a litre," Rob says, "but supermarkets sell it for 1.7 pounds for two litres. Feed alone costs 2 to 3 pounds per cow per day, barley straw is 120 pounds a ton, and silage is 50 to 60 pounds a ton."

Putting further strains on their finance, new inheritance tax rules taking effect in April 2026 will impose a 20 percent tax on agricultural assets over 1 million pounds. Beth says, "We only make fifty or sixty thousand a year. If they really tax 20 percent, I'd have to work twenty years for nothing."

Her father adds bluntly: "The government doesn't want to support food production until they're hungry."

Despite the strain, Beth finds relief in another passion -- equestrian sport. When not tending cows, she competes in dressage competitions and rents part of her stables to other riders.

Her niece, eight-year-old Belle, trots into the family's dressage arena on a pony. Under Beth's guidance, the child practices each movement with growing confidence.

The English countryside only reveals its other face at that moment, one that balances toil and aspiration.

FRAGRANCE TRAVELS THROUGH CONTINENTS

South of London, in the rolling hills of Surrey, waves of lavender ripple across the landscape. This is Mayfield Lavender Farm, a 25-acre organic estate that has become a popular visitor destination.

The owner, Brendan Maye, offers a small bottle of amber-colored oil with a smile. "This is where our story begins," he says.

Maye, once an executive in the fragrance industry, left the corporate world to revive England's lavender heritage. After his company's funding was cut, he took over the project himself, turning it into a thriving brand that blends agriculture, tourism, and wellness.

His business partner, Yang Shujing, a former university lecturer from Shanghai, joined him to bring English lavender into the world of Chinese aromatherapy. "In teaching, I realised the missing link was reliable, high-quality raw materials," she explains. "So I left the classroom for the fields."

Together, they've created a global value chain: lavender grown in Surrey, distilled and refined in Shanghai, and blended with traditional Chinese medicinal knowledge into soothing essential oils and fragrances.

"The chalky, slightly alkaline soil here is perfect for lavender," Maye explains.

Yang adds technical precision: "Lavandula angustifolia here has more than 40 percent linalyl acetate. It takes about 800 grams of flowers to make one gram of oil. The yield and mechanised harvesting make it quite efficient."

Tourists wander among the lavender rows, taking photos, sketching, or simply breathing in the scent. One visitor, Oliver Hardy, a finance worker from London, observes: "In post-industrial Britain, farms can't rely on agriculture alone. Blending farming with tourism, retail, and culture -- that's the new survival path."

The English countryside may no longer be the land of wealth or certainty. But it remains a land of purpose, where generations plant and adapt, even as the world around them changes.