Before spring covers the world with growth and exuberant life, I am strangely aware of the the aged and decaying world beneath.
There are so many old buildings falling beautifully apart around me in the villages and I am irresistibly drawn to the roofs steep and sliding down to the earth.
Roof joists look like the ribs of animal carcasses picked bare by the winter crows and kites.
The roof of this barn came down in the last storm and the wind pulled it apart from the eye of sky that you can see in middle of the shot.
There has been little human to distract the eye during these covid times. Faces are not faces covered by mask (though I wholeheartedly endorse the wearing of masks to keep us all safe!) , but when faces and expressions are shuttered, I look more closely at the buildings and try to read them instead.
It is the older buildings, those with history and character who attract me and the beauty of their ageing, is both poignant and absorbing.