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This beautiful lone birch tree on Lawrence Field near Hathersage has to be one of the most photographed trees in the Peak District, which means that I usually avoid it with a vengeance, but in the early morning sunshine, surrounded by heather, I was powerless to resist its charms. I just loved the soft purple of the flowers, the lit gold of the grasses as the sun rose, and the gentle mist providing a perfect backdrop to it all.
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This little robin was singing his heart out in a frosted tree in Bakewell, fluffing up his feathers to stay warm and to do his very best impression of a round Christmas bauble.
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I love this view of Bakewell: the peaceful banks of the River Wye, overlooked by the jumble of rooflines of the old cottages, leading to the towering spire of All Saints Church beyond. The fresh fall of snow was just, well, the icing on the cake. Or pudding.
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OK, I know I have lots of favourite gates (... doesn't everyone?! ...) but this one is a cracker, and it looked particularly magical when the White Peak fields beyond were covered in layers of soft morning mist. I had to stand and admire it for quite some time. It looked like a gateway to another world, where the trees had become islands in a shallow sea of ever-shifting white.
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"Once upon a time, forests were repositories of magic for the human race." - John BurnsideNo matter how many times I walk in the wild ancient woodland of Padley Gorge, it still takes my breath away. It's beautiful when the Spring sunshine is dappling through the leaves of the twisted oaks, when Autumn's brightness shines from every bough, or when the Winter snow is softly falling, but it's perhaps at its very best on misty Summer mornings, when it has such a quiet magic that even the birds fall silent in awe.
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Sometimes you head out with intentions of capturing sweeping views and morning mists and grand autumnal scenes ... and then you spy little moments of such absolute simple beauty that you get completely entranced and waylaid, and instead spend ages with the tiniest toadstools gleaming in the dew. But how could I resist?!
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On a misty, still autumn morning, sitting by Burbage Brook as it tumbles through Padley Gorge, you can't help feeling that you've somehow fallen into a different world. Here there's no haste or pressure, no noise but the constant rush and bubble of water and the occasional fall of a leaf. I find that I always stay long, long after I've taken the shot, losing track of time, just watching and listening and breathing it all in, so grateful for such places and the chance to fall into them. It's always a wrench to climb back up to reality.
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You'll find these wonderful old wrought iron gates at Haddon Hall, one of the most beautiful and important historic houses in England. Even better, they lead into its Medieval Park, a true Secret Garden, untouched by man for nearly a millennium, where Nature has been left to her own perfect devices. To stand here and gaze through the gates as the snow drifted softly and silently down was one of the most magical winter moments I can remember.
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This was such a beautiful morning in Padley Gorge in the depths of a snowy Winter, standing amid the falling flakes and watching as they picked out the stones in the old wall and contoured every bough and branch of those tall, tall beeches.
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The ancient woodland of Padley Gorge is a magical place in all seasons, but on fresh summer mornings it takes on a very special beauty. It guards its heart well; this entirely natural heart-shaped hole is hidden away at the bottom of an old beech tree, tucked away for only the smallest creatures (and photographers) to find.
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This was the most magical, beautiful morning in Padley Gorge, when the woodlands were covered in soft mists and every leaf glowed with a fresh green light. This lovely boy was enjoying it all as much as I was, pausing to drink the cool water in Burbage Brook and pose perfectly for a portrait.
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Most of the buildings in the pretty Peak District village of Derwent were flooded when Ladybower Reservoir was created in the 1940s, but a few higher up on the hillsides survived. This beautiful house is one of them, happily, and on a Spring day with the blossom on the trees and the early morning sun streaming through the new leaves, it was a particularly poignant reminder of everything lost in the valley below.
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Being only knee-high to a grasshopper myself, I could completely sympathise with this little chap as he hopped up on a handy rock to peep over the edge and see the view. And what a beautiful spot on Longstone Edge for him to grow up in!
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The Peak District has some truly characterful barns, many of them crumbling beautifully in their fields as the seasons pass, perhaps not as weather-tight as once they were but still providing perfect shelter for cattle and wildlife. This one outside the village of Youlgrave is a particular favourite of mine, standing alone in its field with only a tree for company; two old survivors.
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The glowing beauty of Haddon Hall in the early morning light with a soft mist hanging over the hills beyond. Haddon Hall dates back to the 12th Century and it’s a wonderful time capsule inside, with most of its rooms unchanged through the centuries. You can really feel the past breathing from every worn stone step and fine wood panel.
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Honestly, between heather seasons it's easy to forget just how incredibly, eye-poppingly purple the Peak District landscape becomes in late summer. This is one of my very favourite spots for heather views, looking out from the huge boulders of the Iron Age hill fort of Carl Wark, towards the rocks of Over Owler Tor. It's particularly beautiful at sunset, when the last light floods over the moors and makes every flower glow. You feel as if you're standing in the most stunning sea of colour.
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The peaceful Peak District village of Litton, covered by a quiet veil of falling snow in midwinter. The only colour came from the honey stone of the houses and that bright red flash of the old telephone box.
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Honestly, sometimes you have days that you wish would never end, when everywhere you look are scenes of the most incredible beauty, you have to stop, put down the camera for a bit and look in awe. The autumn colours along this narrow lane in the Upper Derwent Valley were off the scale, and even better when reflected in the pools of water gathered along the verges.
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These are the stretching White Peak fields as seen from the little hamlet of Bretton, that perfect gate in the old stone wall opening onto a world of frosty light, patchwork fields and glowing trees in the early morning sun.
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Walking through the little Peak District village of Pilsley as the snow fell softly down, felt like walking into a giant snow globe. The only movement came from the dropping flakes and the birds that were making a dash for their nest.
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This is the little 16th Century stone footbridge over the River Wye in Haddon Hall's Medieval Park. It always looks beautiful, but in the peace of deep winter, with a covering of fresh snow, it became magical.
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I hope I never lose that thrill of sitting up high and watching a cloud inversion shift and roll over the Peak District hills. There are many great spots to watch them from but I particularly love the view along the Hope Valley from Millstone Edge, pictured here. The mist pools around the foot of Win Hill and Lose Hill, and then you can watch it creeping up the gorges and cloughs like tiny waves rushing into inlets on a beach. I always have to put my camera down and just watch.
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I love the little hamlet of Stanshope in Staffordshire, just a cluster of lovely houses, a few farms, lots of birds and sheep, and fantastic views over the limestone hills and valleys that lead into Hall Dale. Plus, does anything say 'English countryside' more than cow parsley by an old stone wall and a postbox on a stick?!
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The bright purple heather on the Peak District moors takes on a whole new level of POW! as the sun sets and adds in late summer gold to the mix. This is the view of the distinctive hill of Higger Tor as seen from the Iron Age hill fort of Carl Wark, its slopes covered in heather and bracken and sunlight.
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This is one of my favourite country lanes in the Peak District, and on a misty autumn morning it's out-of-this-world perfect, the vanishing point hidden in the soft light. I hope you can hear the silence of this photograph, the only sound the occasional patter of a leaf falling down.
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There's something very special about being in a bluebell wood, quiet and fragrant, every step like walking in a fairytale. I just love the combination of English Bluebells and Lesser Stitchwort that you find hidden deep in ancient woodlands, perfectly crafted and wonderfully delicate.
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Who says that winter can’t be colourful?! This beautiful spot is just on the edge of Hathersage, a former quarry that’s now an idyllic, quiet birch woodland. These fabulously colourful gritstone cliffs surround the place and they made the perfect backdrop to the half-frozen pool, every ledge caught with snow. It felt like such a privilege to be there with the sun streaming through the trees, making every shadow sparkle.
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As soon as Autumn rolls around I start searching out Fly Agaric toadstools, and I was very happy to find a little cluster under an old birch tree in Bolehill near Hathersage, surrounded by bright fallen leaves. They're such tiny, pretty things, reminiscent of magic and enchantment. And, with a sting in the tail like all the best fairytales, completely deadly.
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This is the lovely village of Butterton in Staffordshire. It makes my heart a little lighter to know that places like this still exist in our frantic, loud 21st Century world, where the ford trickles past the cottages and over the cobbles on Pothooks Lane, just as it has done for centuries.
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I'm not really a 'big views' person, but this is one of those magnificent vistas that draws you in to look at all the tiny details, which is what I love most. Looking out over Monsal Dale, very early on a hazy summer morning, it's the epitome of English countryside. The little farm surrounded by small fields, the rickety bridge over the River Wye, and then further up, the hamlet of Upperdale hiding in the trees that line the limestone valley. I could look at this Big Little View for hours.
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Just how beautiful is this nosey cow, huffling at me over the wall through the cow parsley, the morning sun brightening the highlights around her ears?! The thing that really makes me laugh though, is the shy one behind, just peeping through the gap so as not to miss out on the portrait.
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This beautiful little footbridge over the River Wye at Haddon Hall dates back to the 16th Century. Legend has it that in 1563, Dorothy Vernon, then heir to Haddon Hall, met her forbidden lover, Sir John Manners, on the bridge and the couple rode off into the night to elope. Like all great love stories they lived happily ever after, and inherited Haddon Hall only two years later. The same family still live in the Hall today. This is always a wonderful spot in the grounds of the Hall, but on this bright summer morning, surrounded by wildflowers, it was like a scene from a fairytale.
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This peaceful duckpond is in the heart of the Peak District village of Tissington. With a collection of grand stone houses and pretty cottages clustered around a magnificent Jacobean manor, Tissington is one of the most picturesque villages in the area. Explore its narrow lanes to find a 12th Century church, six village wells and this duckpond, home to lively populations of ducks, coots, moorhens and goldfish - who don't always get along as swimmingly as you might think!
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I feel lucky beyond measure to live in this beautiful place. Even though I know it far better than the back of my hand, and I have seen it in all weathers and seasons and moods, it still has the ability to take my breath away on a regular basis. Rosy dawns on quiet lanes, the dew on the fields sparkling in the soft light? All the money in the world can't buy mornings like this, nor the gift of seeing them and revelling in them.
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I was peeking through a hedge at this little lamb playing in her dandelion field, when she suddenly spotted me and came rushing over to discover what on earth I was. Except she came so close that I couldn't fit her in the frame and I had to move back a little to take the shot, and then she was Very Proud Indeed that she'd scared off the hedge-based intruder, and went racing off to tell mum how brave she'd been.
