Caudwell Mill is a water-driven flour mill near the hamlet of Rowsley, part of the Peak District National Park, in the centre of England. It’s been around for hundreds of years as a working mill, although now it’s more of a tourist attraction and somewhere pleasant to go on a quiet Sunday afternoon. There are a few stone buildings where artisans create decorative ironwork and glass sculptures, and a rustic cafe and gift shop. It isn’t an especially photogenic place. Masson Mill in another part of the National Park ticks all the boxes if that’s what you’re looking for. Caudwell Mill is, however, a perfect place to find the unexpected.
The thrill of chasing Unconsidered Trifles is the absolute delight in finding the most unlikely things to photograph and revealing the poetry within. A few other visitors might have been slightly less impressed with my idea of the thrill of it all. I blocked routes over styles whilst spending an age snapping up images of the top of fence posts.
People patiently waited for me to get that image of the bark of a Silver Birch just right, so they could squeeze past over the narrow wooden bridge without tipping me into the mill stream.
I would turn from capturing a fascinating pattern, made from tree roots creeping up from the gravel path, to find a handful of gentle folk trying to work out just what on earth I was doing. A smile and soft hello as they walked past, the way you would speak to the mad or infirm.
You’ll find the results added to the Album A Celebration of Unconsidered Trifles, I hope you consider the inconvenience worthwhile.