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Poppies are such beautiful flowers, with their poignant symbolism and their fragile, delicate, tissue-paper petals. They're also very fickle about when and where they grow. The seeds can lay dormant in soil for up to 100 years and need light to flourish, so you'll only find poppies in ground that has been disturbed. This might explain why this Peak District field in Bubnell was an absolute sea of poppies one year, yet had not a single bloom in the years to follow. It made me feel even more privileged to have seen it, and to have been able to watch the sun set over these crimson petals.
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Poppies are such poignant flowers, with their delicate, paper-thin petals. To see so many in this beautiful field in the Peak District village of Hassop was an incredible privilege, and the storm clouds above just added to the drama and colour of the scene.
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The sight of wild poppies growing amid ripening corn is becoming a common sight again in countryside fields, which I'm very glad to see. I'm sure it's more inconvenient for the farmers but it's so good for the insects, and the sight of those bright scarlet blooms instantly makes you feel summery! This lovely countryside scene was captured just outside the Peak District town of Bakewell.
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Darn it, you know that feeling when you've got your best outfit on, you've done your hair beautifully, and then you only go and spill your dinner all over yourself with the first mouthful?!
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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 is Moat Low, a Bronze Age bowl barrow and Scheduled Monument near Tissington in the Peak District, visible for miles around and easily recognisable because of its distinctive trees. Excavations here in 1845 revealed a grave with two skeletons and further cremation remains, as well as a bronze axe. It's fascinating to think of the history of these places and our ancestors who perhaps walked the same paths we still walk now. I'm pretty sure I'd be happy with this as my final resting place.
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I very rarely photograph wildlife - I leave that to people with more patience and longer lenses - but when this Little Owl sat staring at me from her tree hollow, the morning sun highlighting her beautiful plumage and wise eyes, well, it would have been rude not to take a picture, wouldn't it?!
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Can you hear the silence? There's barely a ripple from the little rowing boats tethered in the calm, still waters of Ladybower Reservoir, as the mists swarm above the arches of Ashopton viaduct and the green slopes of Crook Hill rise beyond into the morning sky. It's a view that never fails to make my shoulders drop.
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There are trees, and then there are trees so special that they stand on their very own podium. This one is a treasure in every single different season, but adorned with the freshest, brightest new leaves, shining in the early morning sun, it's hard to imagine it ever looking more perfect.
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Sometimes everything you need is right there in front of you. Nothing more complicated than an old stone barn in a summer field, surrounded by trees as the evening light falls golden on the grasses. I stayed here until the sunlight faded, the air chilled and the owls began hooting.
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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 very, very happy to spend a ridiculously long time with these stitchwort flowers, covered in dew and sparkling in the early sun. There’s so much beauty in tiny scenes. When you move your gaze from the big views, you’re richer for noticing the thousands of delicate details.
