Early on a summer morning, these four adventurers were out for a wander in the bright air, no doubt searching out new horizons together as well as new snacks. When you have your friends by your side and a beckoning lane ahead, what more could you want?!
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The Church of the Holy Cross in Ilam is possibly one of the prettiest churches in the Peak District. Certainly its setting is hard to beat, surrounded by the ancient trees of Ilam Park, with the distinctive heights of Thorpe Cloud rising behind to create a perfect backdrop. It's an interesting building too; it dates back to the 11th Century and contains a font carved with dragons as well as a shrine to St Bertram, himself a fascinating local figure - born in a nearby cave, rose to become Prince of Mercia, then lost his family to wolves and became a hermit in this area.
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This wonderfully gnarled old tree stands alone in a quiet water meadow close to the River Dove. Its branches are like twisted limbs, painted with moss and lichen. I always stop to admire it, but on this autumn morning I was stopped in my tracks as I noticed the hundreds of gleaming silver cobwebs that it held so gently and carefully between its wizened fingers.
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So much can be contained in a tiny glimpse of a view, don't you think? I love this jumble of roof lines in the village of Ashford-in-the-Water, none quite the same height or shape or angle, as if they've risen up out of the fields themselves, rather than been subject to the hands and plans and designs of men. They looked perfect in the early light on this winter morning, smoking chimneys hinting at cosy warmth inside, and nothing but birds on the move.
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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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Spring flutters into the hills and dales of the Peak District, marked by lanes filled with daffodils, moors ringing with the curlew's song, and trees proudly bearing their brand new buds on every twig. These weeks are some of the most magical of the whole year for me; when Nature feels poised, teetering, on the cusp of spilling over, but with all that promise and hope still to come, still ahead of us…
