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Every so often you come across a Peak District farm that looks so perfect in the landscape it's almost as if it's grown there, if you know what I mean? This scene outside the little Peak District village of Rainow in Cheshire can't have changed much for centuries. The farm has the date 1593 above the door, so it's certainly seen a few centuries come and go. I rather fell in love with it, plus it's on Hooleyhay Lane, which is surely the best ever name for a road?!
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I don't think I'll ever lose that thrill of watching a cloud inversion, a phenomenon that occurs when temperatures at ground level are lower than those up in the air. It feels like watching a magician's trick as the mist coils and swirls through the valleys - revealing, then hiding, then revealing again the farms and trees and villages. This is one of my favourite views of the Hope Valley, with Mitchell Field Farm nestled in a hollow of trees. On this particular morning the farm stood bathed in early sunshine, but its view across the hills was utterly hidden as the mist danced around its footings.
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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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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.
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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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Every grand old tree can tell so many tales of centuries - the walls built, the storms weathered, the people who have sought shade and solace beneath their boughs - but this beauty is truly a magical storyteller.Spring is in full force, the daffodils bloom by the wall and each twig is tipped with a bud about to burst into green, but for now she is still flaunting the filigree beauty of her bare branches, each knot and bump and whorl in her bark, and her stories are at their loudest, for anyone who stands still and long enough to listen.
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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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There are few things more life-affirming than walking through Spring woods on a sunny morning, the air full of birdsong and the scent of bluebells. These woods near Hathersage have always been a favourite of mine, but at this time of year they take on an even more special quality.
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Sometimes you don't need grand vistas to feel inspired or lucky. Sometimes you just need old stone barns in fields full of buttercups, the morning mist draped softly across the hills, and the air full of skylarks.
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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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I wish I could live in a world where it was always May. In the countryside everything is fresh and new, with a just-laundered brightness and clarity. Delicate leaves, almost fluorescent in colour, unfurl like tiny flags on every branch, whilst tight buds of flowers ease into colour among the grasses. The birds sing from each treetop, field and hedgerow, surely for joy as much as for territory. The only sadness is that it can't all last forever.
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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 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.
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Glowing in the early morning Spring light, this is the little Peak District hamlet of Miller's Dale, nestled alongside the River Wye and surrounded on all sides by high limestone hills. The water rushed and bubbled through the valley and birds sang out from the trees whose shadows fell on the road, but otherwise all was perfectly peaceful as the day began in this little corner of England.
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After the long Winter months of brown and grey, Spring arrives like a shout of bright green from every tree, verge, hedgerow and forest floor. It was sheer, absolute bliss to stand in this woodland full of birds and allow my starved eyes to soak up every shade and tone and light of the green, from the fluorescent glow of the brand new beech leaves to the damp softness of the old moss on the rocks, and every possible hue in between.
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“I come to my solitary woodland walk as the homesick go home.” ~ Henry David ThoreauThis is one of the most beautiful woodland walks I know. I love the arches of statuesque beeches, receding along the path like an arboreal Mexican wave, and that old stone wall that seems built to hold back the trees from advancing. I've photographed it in every season and it never fails to impress me, but I felt very privileged to stand here on this Spring morning to watch the young leaves glowing, the mist weaving around each bough, and the blackbirds heralding the new day.
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As tough as those early alarm calls are, I always feel very privileged to see the first light as the Spring sunshine softly reaches the sleeping Peak District valleys (and gates), calls the birds to song and wakes the sheep. This is the view over beautiful Chee Dale in Derbyshire in the quiet of the morning.
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Dandelions must be the most underrated of flowers, maligned as a 'weed' and cut or poisoned away from verges and fields and gardens without a thought. Yet at each stage of their life cycle they are perfect, symmetrical wonders, with the most beautiful structure and form. They also provide vital early food for butterflies and bees, and bring us the first much-needed shots of bright colour after the dark of winter.These dandelion seed heads were lit by the setting sun as I passed them, each one a tiny ball of light, the whole field transformed into a mass of caught gold. Nature throws us so many jewels of immense beauty if we only stop to see, notice and appreciate them.
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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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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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Just how beautiful is this nosy cow, huffling at me over the wall through the cow parsley, the morning sun brightening the highlights around her ears?! She was definitely ready for her close-up. 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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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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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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Is there a better way to spend a sunny day than wandering along an English country lane, grass growing in the middle, sheep baaa-ing over the stone walls on all sides, and endless blue skies above?! This is one of my very favourite lanes in the Peak District, although admittedly I do have many. It offers the most beautiful White Peak views, it's a little haven away from the hustle and bustle - and it ends at a pub.
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I hope you can FEEL the sunshine oozing out from this beautiful Peak District lane in Hulme End?! I'm always slightly in mourning when May has gone - as usual it seems to zoom past way too quickly in a sweet blur of hawthorn blossom and cow parsley. Before you know it, the baby birds have fledged, the lambs are mini sheep, and June is swaying in with her arms full of foxgloves and poppies.
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This pretty little gate above the Peak District village of Hathersage provides a wonderful viewpoint over the Hope Valley in Derbyshire, glowing golden on this warm summer evening in the light of the setting sun.
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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'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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Heading home in the late evening, I had to stop and rub my eyes at this view; it felt as if I'd fallen into a dream. As the last of the day's golden light drifted through the trees, this beautiful little white horse lifted his head to watch me pass. I wouldn't have been wholly surprised if he had casually spread out a pair of wings and flown off across the hedgerows once I'd walked on.
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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 ashamed to say that I did a little involuntary squeak when I wandered around a bend and saw this sight in front of me. A curving lane, that wonderful combination of mist and light that creates proper sunbeams, and a mighty fine gate reflected in perfect shadow. The magic lasted for a minute at most, but I felt incredibly privileged to have seen it and captured it to share.
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On midsummer mornings the light on the country lanes of the Peak District is so clear and golden - every leaf and blade of grass seems to glow with its own brightness. I'd like to say it was as peaceful as it looks when I took this shot, but actually the birds were incredibly loud, singing their little hearts out to welcome in the new day.
