Bring the beauty of the Peak District countryside into your home with photographic prints and high quality canvases. Featuring my own photographs, they celebrate the quiet lanes, magical woodlands and windswept moors of this wonderful place.
My photographic prints are available to order in a range of sizes from 8×8″ to 24×24″. They are reproduced on archival quality professional photographic paper, with a semi-matt finish. Prints are unmounted for you to mount and frame yourself to suit your decor.
My canvases are individually printed onto 100% cotton canvas of 340GSM thickness, using a 12 colour process for rich, vibrant colours. They’re hand-stretched onto European pine wood frames, and are ready to hang on your wall straightaway. They’re available in sizes from 12×12″ to 36×36″ in a choice of two depths.
I’m so sorry, but I am only able to offer UK shipping. Please note that each item is hand-made to order so please allow 10-14 days for delivery. Thank you!
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The ancient forest of Padley Gorge is a truly magical place in all seasons and weathers; it's one of my favourite spots in the Peak District. On this particular winter afternoon the light among the twisted old oaks was incredible, a milky sunlight that drifted through the branches, picking out the vibrant moss on the rocks and the little patches of frost still clinging to the fallen leaves.
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Late winter is a magical time. Everywhere there's a tangible sense of being on the cusp of something wonderful, teetering over the edge. Along the lanes and in the woods there's a gradual uncurling, a stretching, a whispering and waking, all those tiny lives pushing up from the hard earth and budding on the branches. The birds are singing just that little bit louder, the sunshine is a little bit warmer. We're turning the page, and all that promise lies ahead of us...
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Snowdrops make me smile. You can't fail to feel a little brighter and happier when you see those first delicate heads stretching up out of the winter earth, pushing through the dead leaves and damp undergrowth to reach the pale sun.
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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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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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I was out for a walk in the lovely Peak District village of Hathersage one Spring evening, and I chanced upon this little lane that was lit up by the low sun, complete with clusters of daffodils and a gate that had completely given up. I love it when you just happen upon scenes like this. It's a tiny snapshot of life witnessed as you pass by, rather than an epic scene that you travel to a specific point to see. Sometimes the best views in life are the the simple ones meant just for you.
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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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It's always an uplifting sight to see the first bluebells of the year, a return to colour and light, a sure sign that the grey, dark days of Winter are behind us. This little patch of bluebells were very early, and I chanced upon them while walking along the lanes near the pretty village of Fenny Bentley on the Derbyshire/Staffordshire border. They were among trees on a hillside, and must have been perfectly positioned to catch that early Spring sunshine to allow them to bloom almost a month before the flowers closer to my home. I spent ages in that wood and missed an appointment, but it was all worth it!
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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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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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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.
