On a beautiful spring stroll around my Ribblesdale village this lunchtime I saw sheep and lambs, horses, a cockerel and hens, pigs, a pheasant, grouse, three different kinds of butterflies, cows, lots of birds… but no bull.
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Narthen, behave thissen i' Yorksher
I understand that we Yorkshire folk have been instructed to be on our best behaviour and helpful towards foreign visitors when T’ Tour heads through the county. So I suggest that if you see a cyclist in trouble at the side of the road, try saying (slowly of course): “Tha’ll nooan get ser far o’ that thing lad, – tha’s baht chain. Get thissen dahn t’ ginnel to arr kid’s next to t’ chip oyle – he’ll sithee reight.” (Don’t use ‘luv’ though – that’s banned.)
Photo – grand evening light in the western dales.
If you've got it – flaunt it, I say
Some junk mail landed this morning from a well known catalogue store pronouncing its spring and summer colours and styles for 2014. I’d just come back from a morning stroll during which I sat in the St Mary’s churchyard in Long Preston, Ribblesdale, admiring some really uplifting spring colours produced by Nature – including this ornamental yellow daisy set against a purple berberis. Advertising material is normally planted unceremoniously and unread straight in the recycling bin here, but I thought I’d check how those skinny models were portraying this year’s spring colours… black, white, grey – any sign of colour was understated. Now I know yellow and purple might be a tad OTT for some folk to wear but I did wonder if any of the city-based fashion designers had ever witnessed a spring in the countryside.
Where envy's not yet green
I envy my son – not just because of his age and good looks, but also because this is where he works… for the Field Studies Council at their centre on the National Trust’s Malham Tarn estate. Not that I’d get much done if I worked at such a glorious place. At 1,237 ft above sea level it is the highest lake in England and you can see by the colours that spring isn’t as far on here as further down the dale. You don’t have to go on a course to stay at the grand old mansion – family holidays start from £16.50pn including food, accommodation and an activity – so I might just book myself in for a couple of days so my son can pamper me, just like I’ve done for him over the last twenty-odd years.
Semerwater – deep asleep in the memory
Seeing the afternoon sun glistening on Semerwater the other day I was reminded of my schooldays (yes, I can remember THAT far back). Either we had a teacher who was very fond of the Dales, or it was part of the GCE (yes, THAT long ago when we had GCEs) syllabus – whatever, we had to learn and discuss the ballad of Semerwater… the one that goes:
Deep asleep, deep asleep,
Deep asleep it lies,
The still lake of Semerwater
Under the still skies….
There are another half dozen verses written by Sir William Watson, a poet from Burley in Wharfedale, which I tried to recall while taking in the lovely scene. There aren’t many places in the Yorkshire Dales where you can listen to water lapping against a shoreline in rhythmic fashion so this was a feast for the eyes and ears. However, my memory wasn’t up to the task of reciting the full poem and I had to Google the rest back at home.
A red devil in the Dales
This morning, for the third time in around a year, I visited Snaizeholme, Widdale in the Yorkshire Dales, in a bid to photograph some red squirrels. There’s a viewing area overlooking a feeding station where I hung around for quite a while. Earlier, about 100 yards away from me, a red had crossed the track I was walking down and so I thought my luck might be in. Another one darted across some open land above the feeding area but it didn’t look like any were ready to perform where my camera was trained. I turned round briefly to watch a brightly coloured grouse only to see one of the little red blighters about a stride away from my feet! As soon as I moved to adjust the camera, the squirrel started having me on, jumping and dashing around like a… well, a squirrel I suppose. It peered around a tree trunk at me and I managed this slightly out-of-focus shot before it ran crazily around so fast I only captured one more half-decent shot. I smiled. I think we both had a bit of fun.
Where the wind blows… and blows… and blows
Whenever I’m around Huddersfield way and I have the time, I’ll nip up to the Victorian tower on Castle Hill and remind myself of the fantastic 360 degree view. Yesterday I noticed for the first time a wind farm on the south western horizon. The turbine blades ought to have been whirling round in demented fashion, as the wind on this exposed outcrop felt like gale force – alas, apparently you can have too much wind on a wind farm for a wind turbine to work. Could be a wind up of course. Certainly put the wind up me – nearly got blown over the edge.
Sensing the elements on Pennine moorland
Sometimes I sense an elemental spirit when I’m out on lonely moorland. An inconsistent wind rocks me and the camera; layers of cloud opening up then slamming shut, creating an ever-changing picture before my eyes. This weather-beaten old barn has stood for centuries but has been long-abandoned by a long-forgotten smallholder. Beneath my feet spongy peat and moss soak up recent rain. If you look closely you’ll see a second framed picture within the photograph, created by the brighter light, left centre, as it meets up with the barn wall and roof. It neatly captures Lancashire’s Pendle Hill here on the very edge of Yorkshire.
All creatures great and Tiny
I’ve taken my cat’s photo so many times that I’m sure he’s beginning to strike a few poses. As long as Tiny doesn’t start charging me model fees I’ll keep on sticking the lens in his face. It’s been very misty around Ribblesdale recently which is why I’ve been mainly photographing cats, horses, sheep, lambs and this flashy young cockerel…
Mothers of the Dales
Happy Mothers Day! Here’s one mum who reckons that having Mothering Sunday during the lambing season must have been a man’s idea.