Baled hay in a Groombridge farmyard.
A flock of pigeons, most of which are grey, wheels over the edge of the Common above the London Road. Among the grey, some white wings catch the sun.
Unable to remember the model number of my printer, I scan the shelves to see if the cartons on the shelf will jog my memory. There are so many models. But I am helped by a totem. "What is the animal on the carton?"asks the assistant in the stationers. A group of about 12 different Epson printers are all labelled with a photograph of a cheetah. That's it I say and growl to myself with feline satisfaction. I shan't forget again. Until I replace my present printer, of course.
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Congratulations to the Leni Riefenstahl de nos jours. Here's a powerful example of how the camera can lie as well as Goebbels. Zoom out from those seductively, artfully cropped hay bales and discover one of great eyesores of modern day farming. It has been said that war is too important for generals; a more telling variant is that preservation of the countryside's beauty is too important for farmers. I recently learned that there are virtually no planning restrictions on buildings erected by these badger-culling, foxhunt supporting types. This certainly explains why the majority of barns are both cheap and nasty.
Behind the bales, as you will see in today's post, is a weathered timber barn with a slate roof. Beside them is a stack of mangold-wurzels. I preferred the aubergine- like plastic wraps on their own, to the rather more conventional scene, for their sculptural interest. Riefenstahl might have done the same; Goebbels would probably have opted for the bucolic cliche, if he had cared one way or the other.
They're usually white around here, and I've often tried to make something photographic out of them but without success. Some forms of insect life, including some rather impressive crickets, see to enjoy basking on them though.
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