On the edge of the village* where I live there is a farm. It’s located on a tight bend in the road, but the narrow verge is always well-tended, and through the gate and gaps in the hedge, you can often see ducks, geese and chickens milling around. The farm also sells a range of produce, and signs such as the one in my photograph are affixed to this tree and at other places. Once upon a time the farm probably backed out onto an undisturbed river floodplain, but this was taken over by a railway marshalling yard when the local coal mine was still in production (it’s been closed nearly 35 years now), and in more recent times now carries the A57 bypass via a viaduct across the valley, which is what can be seen in the middle part of the picture, just behind and above the hedge. Despite all this, there’s still a peaceful air around the farm, especially when the rush-hour traffic has subsided.

*I use the term “village” in its loosest sense – it’s actually just a suburb of Sheffield, but like many satellite settlements that have been absorbed into the wider metropolitan mass, it’s still known as “the village” be local people.

Olympus Trip 35 & Fomapan 400.

Taken on 28 March 2019