The lure of the margins, in this case, other peoples' stuff in Brancaster Staithes. Crab pots, rope, a look out tower and machinery for doing unimaginable things, probably to crustaceans. A Barbara Jones subject.
Evidence of small commerce.
A place for washing nets, I think. Something Paul Nash about it.
Heading out of Brancaster Staithes through a significantly modest portal.
Holkham, tide out. Land, sea and sky are endlessly permeable here. The approach is via Lady Anne's Drive, a toll road which was once dissected by the Great Eastern Railway and Holkham station
A found sand castle. I have to guess focus distance on this camera and getting it wrong is part of the attraction, even the viewfinder is an approximation so the picture often runs away with itself. Young ladies with cut glass vowels on fine horses are common hereabouts, perhaps this is a love totem from one. I like the encircling ring to keep the passion from spilling out and enchanting the sea.
Stiffkey terminalia with reflectors. The posts are an attempt to separate the car park from the infinity of salt marsh. Reflectors have fascinated me since the pre-Warboys variety reminded me of wine gums as a child. These are more modest, but still twinkle back at the headlights of courting couples' cars.
A short diversion inland and a sign to the place I'm looking for. Stuffed tutelary guardian, always a thrill. Focus slightly out once again - the location infecting judgement already.
Stiffkey church tower, occluded by a tree. The one time rector was killed by a lion at Blackpool zoo. RIP Reverend Davidson.
On to Blakeney. An inviting passage guarded by hollyhocks.
Miro-like mooring. Smart phone crabbing.
Awaiting the tide. A suitable place to end our ramble on the salt line.
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