Ten minutes at the field gate
There is a kind of waiting that feels very much like a walk.
A small record of walks
Pictures & field notes
2024—2026
Things the pictures leave out. The weather, the wrong turning, what broke, what I heard but couldn’t see. Written down afterwards, usually with a cup of tea.
There is a kind of waiting that feels very much like a walk.
Trying to settle an old argument by carrying two cameras. It didn’t help.
A small mechanical failure, followed by a much lighter bag.
A short walk along the ridge, with most of autumn already on the ground.
A very full hedgerow, apparently. Not much evidence in the pictures.
The good light was uphill. The sensible turning was behind me.
A notebook small enough to forget about, and a walk I already know.