Among many languages on the poster at the field’s entrance gate is a declaration in Ulster-Scots: This be oor fiel. Close to my home in the heart of an urban landscape, “our field” in Lower Botanic Gardens invites my idle wandering.

Going by the desire paths that crisscross its floodplain meadow, I follow in many footsteps. Recently rewilded and recultivated for a new age, this council-owned field has always responded to the needs of the times. The field grew vegetables during the second world war, and grew families in prefabricated housing after that war ended. Today, in subtle and transformative ways, this cherished place still provides for and protects local people.

Belfast is built on the estuarine clay of the River Lagan, which passes by the field, separated only by the narrow rim of Stranmillis embankment. In my mind’s eye, I can see the expanse of tidal mudflats that were once here. At a time of rising sea levels and pluvial rainfall, this area is at screamingly high risk of flooding.

Following its commitment to enhance the city’s resilience to climate change, Belfast city council (BCC) proffered our field as the site for an inspiring post-pandemic collaboration with local volunteers and Queen’s University Belfast. With help from Upsurge (an EU Horizon 2020-funded programme), a vibrant community garden is again growing vegetables, as well as the social and skills networks that grow people.

Meanwhile, the university research garden here has investigated ways to improve carbon sequestration in crops and soil. And the meadow has been restored. Floodplain meadow is like a sponge, absorbing rainfall and releasing it slowly, which provides a natural flood defence. As I squelch towards a water-filled scrape, dug to enhance this capacity, its smooth surface reflects a clouded sky.

All around, fresh growth is rising from last season’s grass-cut (designed to mimic the grazing of herbivores). The meadow is greening with bent and fescue grasses and dancing with lady’s-smock flowers.

But our capacious and generous field is under threat. In a gut-punching about-turn, BCC has been debating converting it into a sports pitch. The very idea feels like a land grab. From a nearby larch tree, a coal tit’s two-note song echoes through my head: I’m here! It’s mine!