The church lies within a scattered hamlet with oval shaped boundaries. I park next to the bridge over the brook and hike up the steep lane and position myself between the church and the Black Mountains, covered with a mantle of snow to the south.

I always try and get a sense of a building before I photograph it. The boundary here is oval shaped, betraying a ritualistic landscape that is older than the church.

There's something special about entering a church. The best places evoke a feeling of transition upon entrance. There's no exception here. The view over to the east is divine: the medieval rood screen survives and is painted with ox-blood. Upon the screen is the presence of absence - a ghost-rood.

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