I have just upgraded my camera, and whilst experimenting with a new lens and filters, the setting sun cast its last rays of light across a newly ploughed field on the not too distant Merse. The perfectly straight and deeply shadowed plough lines accentuated the smooth curve of the hill, and in black and white the vivid markings look quite mesmerising; like a screw thread cutting through the landscape.
This wasn’t the scene that I expected to see from the window in late March. A thick layer of frozen snow blanketing the fields of the Merse, punctuated by dark bales of uncollected hay and ominously low moody clouds closing in on the only light of the day. It still feels like the middle of winter, rather than the dawn of spring.