Nettles and Fox

The track I walk up onto the hill has become almost impassable.  The nettles have shot up over the last week.  The trail through I have been creating has disappeared under all the growth and I carve through again trampling nettles, getting stung and wet in the rain.  The view has gone into drizzle and mist.

This idea of tracing a path through constant use, repetition, creating marks in the landscape.  The sheep trails visible in the grass.  Caterpillar tracks in the woods as machines clear felled trees.  The smell of fox through the undergrowth.