FARMING THE APOCALYPSE: When my life came crashing down I took shelter on my farm, surviving with 11th-century tools like the sickle and scythe. “Blackberries, spreading beneath the ground, erupted, their briars making familiar pathways impassable. The first emergence of an invader is the time to catch it – something I failed to do. This year’s seedling pines are next year’s forest covering a portion of a favourite meadow.”