Late afternoon, this time by bicycle. I'd been looking at the map and noticed there was a small river not so very far away. I'd wondered why I hadn't seen it on previous outings. A river seems like something worth seeking out I was thinking, so I sought it out. It didn't take long at all to find it. I just hadn't gone quite far enough before.

The cycle track took a turn for a worse about here and become little more than a grassy lane. Not impossible to ride along, certainly harder work physically, but not altogether an unenjoyable experience, all things considered. Still, I wasn't here for a pleasant day out on my bike, so I made myself dismount.

I spent a few minutes looking all around me.

Even when there was little of interest I still felt it was important to bear witness to it.

A little further along and away from the river, things began to feel more vital again. Compositionally speaking, anyway. Today wasn't the day to ask what exactly that meant. If a diagonally shaped mass of dark earth fitted well in a rectangular frame, that was sufficient.

Strange how my expectations are already settling into place about how I want this place to look. And occasionally, when I'm drawn to something which doesn't fit those expectations, it's almost like a "jump". I think it's the tree here. I had got used to there not being trees (except in the distance). A tree therefore caused me to jump. This, you understand, is a subsequent reflection. I'm not so sure I actually jumped, or felt anything resembling a shock of any kind, at the time. I was simply drawn to the view. This is good. The last thing I want is to be tied down to some preconceived notion of what it is I'm looking for, or even that I'm looking for anything.

I'd passed this tree on a previous day, but coming from the other direction. Well, pissed beneath it, to tell the truth. It was the only cover I could find.

Landscapes with solitary cars driving along in them have an unfortunate habit of looking like car adverts. This association is not productive. It seems to erect a barrier between myself and the environment. It seems to occlude something. I was seduced by the image though evidently. Perhaps I was unconsciously trying to re-stage something I'd seen on television. Trying to bring myself closer to the dream of owning a Volvo perhaps, of possessing the freedom to drive unhindered along open roads. I wasn't expecting to be seduced by advertising messages here, in the country. Probably in the future I should try to resist these temptations.

I stopped here for a few minutes, so that I could walk around a bit on foot. Just to make sure I wasn't missing anything.

It would have been physically impossible to photograph this bird whilst riding my bicycle, so my decision to dismount may have found its justification here. I must remember to remain alert to what's around me.

It would be something to do to walk in and out along the length of the line of green bales of hay, I was thinking here. This is as close as I got to them though, so I'm not sure how urgent that desire ever was in my mind. For a while I waited till a car drove past along the road behind them, as that seemed important. I waited a while, made a couple of attempts at photographing the occurrence, but felt that the cars were never positioned in quite the right place in the ensuing images, so I discarded them. It's this sort of attention to detail, and the patience necessary to achieve it, I thought, that might make a difference.

I'd begun to feel a little weary by this point. My thoughts had turned to dinner.