Growing up I would always be out and about doing something on The Grounds. I would often be out early in the winter; bessoming the dew off the grass ready for cutting, sweeping leaves, again with the besom, collecting grass cuttings, collecting leaves. The Grounds, 50 acres, football fields, rugby fields, hockey field, tennis courts, the woods, the brook, the allotment, planting, pruning, sawing, cutting, machines, play. Everything was play, being out, feeling my way through the day.
I'm sorting through photographs for a 2010 book, adding titles and short descriptions, one a page in a one hundred page book. The making of a book is a journey, exploring, experimenting, an adventure. I re-look, re-read, re-think. Nurture a thought, tend to an idea, potter with some pictures. Sitting, not for too long, a short break, a wander, a walk, some water, and back to the book, like a brook, rippling.