Whether in tubes of black plastic wrapping randomly sited across recently-mown meadows, or piled in symmetric pyramids at the farm, hay bales in the countryside always have a slightly surreal - even sinister - air for me. Don't know why.
And when they glow in the setting sun, as in this photo taken near Newborough (nr Abbots Bromley), they have it even more.
Maybe it's just me.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi. If you choose to comment using a non-Google account - write the comment, click Publish, click the captcha, and click Publish again