Looking up out of my garden from the sky-bed of the trampoline.
In the summer I always photograph the flowers.
Autumn hay bales in the field. When they stack the bales I go with my friends and brothers and we climb up in to them.
My reflection in a puddle out in the lane; when I was younger so many stories came from pacing the lane (my first bit of freedom) and staring in to those reflective expanses of puddle. It is this wetness, bringing snails out and make stones glitter, that I remember best of all.