marriages by katharine eastman

This morning I walked to Stockbridge and with minutes to spare caught the 9am bus from there to Winchester and then straight onto the bus back to town. The first person I met all morning was about half a mile short of Stockbridge. In fact it was two people. I caught sight of someone ahead of me, with dogs, walking in my direction, but just that tiny bit slower. I couldn't be comfortable slowing down for them so I knew I'd have to overtake them. And then someone else appeared ahead, walking towards us, also with dogs. It's a narrow bit of footpath all along there - brambles either side of us - and I could see it all before it happened - and even though I could've made sure it didn't happen, I somehow knew that it had to happen - I overtook the one person at the same time/point as when the oncomer also wanted to pass us. Six human legs and innumerable doggy feet all danced a weird tangled tango and we slowly spun round and smiled and laughed and yapped and a million English "sorries" - and then we broke apart and moved away from that spot.

Hours and hours of meeting no one, and then all that. This happens all the time. If I'm on a remote bridlepath that crosses a remote unused narrow lane, I know that when the moment comes for me to cross the lane the one car all day will be driving along that lane and I will have to wait for it. All the time - always. It makes me feel foolish. It was quite foggy this morning and never really any sun and I can't find anything to photograph nowadays - just these sunflowers. There's that time of year when it's de rigueur to photograph the bright yellow fields of rape, weeks when it is impossible not to photograph the fields of poppies, and right now I have to photograph all the sunflowers I ever see - here they are.

recorded this afternoon, photograph near-ish Stockbridge this morning