As I take yet another photograph of a path, I realise that I have a fascination with roads, tracks and paths of all kinds - in spite of liking my nature as wild as possible. So here are some of the photographs of roads, tracks and paths that I’ve taken over the last few years.
The most recent first, the one that set me thinking. This is a path at a park near home that I've photographed several times at different times of year.
|At a local park last week|
This is another path near home, on one of my default walks. Here it is a couple of weeks ago, looking green in spite of the season.
|Near home a few weeks ago|
The next picture is the Taunton and Bridgwater Canal, taken in January this year on a bitterly cold day (and including Frog and Dog).
|The Taunton and Bridgwater Canal in January|
I took this picture of the road that runs past our house in February a few years ago. I've always called it 'Waiting for spring' because it seems filled with such longing (or perhaps it was just me).
|Waiting for spring|
And here are some less wintry pictures. The first was taken near the village of Otterton in East Devon at the end of April a couple of years ago.
|April near Otterton|
Here is the same park as the first picture (different path), one September.
Seeing these pictures together makes me wonder whether it's paths' sense of mystery that intrigues me, their brooding presence. The air is thicker in paths than in the space around them. If only I could take hold of it and squeeze it, I might have some answers. What is the meaning of the road ahead? What is it telling me? Am I going in the right direction? What lies around that corner or at the end of the path where the view fades into the distance?
My life is full of uncertainties and change at the moment. My mother is ill. Frog's jobs are in upheaval. I'm no longer 'a writer'; I'm the editor of our local magazine. I have no idea where I'll be in the next few weeks, let alone months.
Although it's tiring at times, I don't mind. I've always been a walker, a traveller.