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.
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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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This hazy sunset in the little Peak District hamlet of Congreave summed up a rural summer evening for me in just one look: the low sun lighting the swaying grasses, the barn full of gathered hay and swooping swallows, and the quiet country lane stretching away into the still-warm fields.
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Sometimes you don't need wide views or iconic landmarks; the prettiest sights are often the simple ones that just evoke good memories. Like this one, bringing to mind that feeling of resting in a summer meadow, surrounded by clover, looking up at the blue sky with buttercups waving above your head, the bees buzzing all around. This image makes me feel happy and I hope it makes you feel happy too.
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I was so happy to see this great procession of vintage David Brown tractors chugging along the Peak District country lanes one summer evening - and even happier to see them drive into the lovely village of Hartington and park up in a very convenient row, while the owners nipped into the local pub! I couldn't resist capturing the scene, and I love the wonderfully warm evening light that shows off their gleaming paintwork!
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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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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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Every time I walk in Padley Gorge, even though I tell myself sternly, "Stay away from the bridge, walk past the bridge, do NOT photograph the bridge" - I just can't resist it. And on this misty, shining morning, with the early light glowing on the midsummer green, it looked pretty darned perfect.
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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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Wyming Brook is a magical place in which to wander, with waterfalls cascading through a wooded glade, crashing over rocks and sweeping under a succession of pretty wooden footbridges. Once a private medieval hunting forest for the region’s nobility, it is now a nature reserve, protected as a safe haven for a wide variety of wildlife. Keep your eyes and ears open here, and look out for crossbills, dippers, redstarts, pied flycatchers and wood warblers, as well as lutestring and northern spinach moths.
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In the quiet fields on the edge of the pretty village of Hathersage, I chanced upon this beautiful young roe deer. He stood completely still for a few moments, his eyes shining and his ears quivering, watching me, listening, waiting for the click and the whispered 'Thank You'.
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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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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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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 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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The hardy sheep on Stanage Edge really do seem to love their time on the moor, bounding around from rock to rock, grazing among the heather, and always enjoying those incredible views! This little crew were exploring together on a summer evening but they were very happy to pause and stand, posing perfectly for me against the sunset sky.
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This wonderful lone tree is at Sheldon in the White Peak of Derbyshire, an area famed for its gently rolling hills criss-crossed with limestone walls. Its arching shape made a perfect silhouette curling around the setting sun, which lit up the slopes and hollows of the land.
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The rocky outcrop of Higger Tor, high above the village of Hathersage, is one of my favourite places in the Hope Valley to watch the sun set. With the right conditions the whole valley floods with a golden light and the trees cast long shadows over the landscape. On this particularly evening the light was glorious, and I knelt down in the damp heather to capture the view beyond these gritstone rocks. Then, as I did so, a curious little woolly face peeped around the corner and looked at me quizzically, as if to say "what the ...?!" This is one of my own personal favourite ever photographs, as much for the reminder of the laugh as for the image itself.
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Deep in the woods, where only drops of winter sun fall through the branches onto the earth, lighting rocks that seem soft with velvet mosses, you walk into a world where fairytale and reality blur. In Celtic mythology such places were called Thin Places; where the veil between the physical world and the 'otherworld' of dreams was at its finest. The veils in Padley Gorge seem non-existent at times and I always stay out far too long amongst the ancient trees and shadows.
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On Sycamore Hill grows this absolute giant of a tree, perfectly formed, the sort of tree a child would draw if asked to draw a tree. Of course it helps that he stands on his own podium and is approached via a rustic gate in a meadow of wildflowers. He deserves nothing less.
