The land looked wintry but I could feel that the end of winter was near when I pressed the shutter release button on this February day. The end of the winter was also the end of my mother’s life. I last saw her in December, at the end of autumn.
Craving snow is wishful thinking in this country but frost, that we do exceedingly well. This is how the world greeted me on this December morning. The heavy frost on the trees and in the landscape crafted a sublimely delicate and almost monochrome arrangement.
As I stumbled out of bed and staggered along the first floor landing with my mind fixated on my daybreak duties, I was greeted by the waning sickle moon rising over the Wiltshire countryside on this frosty, last day of winter.
The latest instalment from the life of a photographer. When winter and spring came in one day, stripping off in the snow and in public was mysteriously inevitable and intensely liberating. If you are too easily shocked, look away now.