Back behind the wheel…

We squeezed into Winchcombe’s narrow streets, learning to pull over in a drive or onto a sidewalk, so another car can pass.

Then almost suddenly, the buildings fall away.

The road opens.

Fields stretch toward the horizon.

Hedgerows line the lanes.

Rolling hills appear in the distance.

We have left the village behind.

Then we notice the color.

Honey.

The Cotswolds seem to have been painted with a single palette. Golden limestone, green hills, gray roofs, and soft English light. It’s everywhere without changing. An artist’s rendition of a children’s storybook.

For a photographer, it is irresistible.

Every bend offers another composition: a cottage behind a stone wall, a church tower above the rooftops, a farmhouse sitting alone among the fields.

We want to stop constantly.