I drove out to this field because I'd heard the poppies were good this year, and honestly, I needed to be somewhere that wasn't a city for a while. The kind of somewhere you can sit without thinking about rent or how many followers noticed your last post. Budget travel means I end up in these quiet places a lot, and I've stopped pretending it's accidental.
The light was doing something strange when I arrived, all soft and diffused through the clouds. I had some daisies and a red poppy in my bag from earlier, so I twisted them into my hair the way I always do. It's become such a habit now that people expect it, which is funny because I started doing it just because flowers were free and my hair needed something. Now it's the thing people remember.
I sat there for maybe twenty minutes, not even thinking about the shot at first. Just watching the field stretch toward that distant cottage, the way the poppies seemed to glow even under grey sky. There's something about being alone in a place like this that makes you realize how little you actually need. I came with almost nothing, and the field gave me everything.
The light was fading by the time I turned around to frame it properly. That's when I saw it, the way the path caught the last warmth of the day, how it led somewhere but nowhere in particular. Sometimes the best photos aren't about being clever. They're just about noticing where the light decided to land and sitting still long enough to let it find you.
