There's something about old discarded farm equipment that fascinates me. It's lying around all over the place - in thickets beside the fields, by old gateways, or in a clump of nettles by the side of the footpath, like this one.
I wonder how long it's been here? It hasn't been moved for a while and it's reddened with rust. The nettles grow around it in a feral, stinging clump that rises in a mound from the sheep nibbled turf.
Maybe, though, it hasn't been here as long as we might think. And I can't help wondering how long it would take, if our civilisation crumbled, for the only remains to be hulks of rusting metal, like this, the purpose of which has been long forgotten.