still

a wedding

We speed down the motorway in convoy, dodging the rain clouds.

The grounds of the Abbey are green and lush, welcoming like the party within.  They come from around the world to witness a young Englishman and young Japanese lady exchange their vows.  And the language of love is universal - no words are needed.

These photographs are dedicated to my nephew, his beautiful new bride and their respective families ...



私たちは、雨雲を逃れ、船団を組んで高速道路をスピードを落とす。

修道院の敷地内には内のパーティのように歓迎し、緑と緑豊かです。彼らは若いイギリスと日本の若い女性の交換、その誓いを目撃するために、世界中から来る。と愛の言語は普遍的である - 何の言葉は必要ありません。

これらの写真は私の甥、彼の美しく新しい花嫁と、それぞれの家族に捧げている...

cutter

The cutter comes late morning.

Swathing wave of corn-kissed sun trembling a mile long outside our window. Glassy stares and the blood-red threshing circle of metalled teeth grinds slowly to place.

I watch, camera cocked and he doffs his cap, implacable in silhouette against the noon. And then!!! The mettageisen furies unleashed, digging deep to the dirt cloud swirls. Their heads fall sullen to the ground, row upon row upon row. Falling. Their seed spills rich in the dust storm.

Three mile-long passes to the boundary.

The cutter comes once more in the dawn, blade glint and rasping the husks. I sit in the field, hidden in the long summer grass and pick over death in the stalks as time flows past me in a harvest of dust.