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A Quiet Light: Little Moments of Beauty in the Peak District National Park Photographs & Words by Peaklass At long last, after many years in the making and planning, I am absolutely delighted to be able to offer my book of Peak District photographs and words. It is a 152-page celebration of the small glimpses of countryside life that hold such immense beauty. From the first light of spring sunshine rising over the hills, to the swirling mists that weave through the valleys on late summer mornings. From the soft, damp stillness of autumn lanes, to the impossible silence of snow falling in the ancient woodlands. Presented seasonally, each photograph is accompanied by my words about the scene, place or image. I have been dreaming of this book for such a long time, and it's most probably the only one I'll ever make, so I haven't scrimped on quality! It's a premium, hardback volume, A4 in size, printed in the UK on weighty 170gsm silk paper, FSC-certified and carbon-balanced by the World Land Trust. Would you like your book signed? If so, please just include a note to this effect when placing your order. There's no extra charge. Delivery: Sorry, UK shipping only. Please note, delivery is by Royal Mail Tracked 48 via a small, rural, overworked Post Office. Please allow at least 7-10 days for despatch, processing and delivery. Thank you! ISBN 978-1-3999-9193-3
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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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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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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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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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These woods above the village of Hathersage in the Peak District are a family favourite of mine - easily accessible and with an abundance of trees to climb, rocks to scramble over and secret glades to explore. The spaces between the trees allow the sunlight to filter through, and in the Spring it looks wonderful as the light hits the bluebells and creates shadows on the little grassy paths.
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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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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 trees are just as magical when fallen as when standing proud. This wonderful beech tree in my favourite wood, Hay Wood near the Peak District village of Grindleford, has obviously lain among the bracken and grasses for years, yet still bursts valiantly into leaf every Spring. When the conditions are right, its broad, moss-covered trunk is surrounded not by sky but by bluebells, and there are few more inspirational sights. I waited patiently for more than a year to get this shot from exactly this angle in exactly this light, and I hope you think it was worth the wait.
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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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This lovely lane is in Staffordshire, not far from the little Peak District village of Wetton. The setting sun was turning the sky a beautiful pinky purple, which matched the colours of the wild scabious flowers in the verges. It was a warm, quiet evening and just a very pretty scene that I felt privileged to be able to capture.
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This is a little gated lane just outside the Peak District village of Hathersage, and it was a perfect early summer day when I chanced upon this view, with the road winding through the bright gorse ahead and into the trees. What I couldn't capture was the scent of the blossom in the tree above ... and the incredible noise of the thousands of bees enjoying the flowers!
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You know those bumper stickers that say "I brake for horses!"? I seriously think I need one that says "I brake for barns!" I can never resist that combination of limestone walls and crumbling barns, and I'm apt to stop suddenly and without warning if I see a particularly lovely example that I just can't pass by. This barn in the gently rolling fields on the edge of the Peak District village of Sheldon is one of my favourites, and it looked especially beautiful in the first rays of the early sun on this perfect summer morning.
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This wonderful little path on the edge of the Peak District village of Pilsley is a hidden gem, especially in summer, when it's so crowded with cow parsley that it feels like you're fighting your way through a very English country jungle. It's a feast for the senses to walk here; it looks so beautiful but it smells divine too, and the sound of the birds singing their little hearts out is incredible.
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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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This is my favourite view of my home village of Hathersage. From a secret vantage point just below Stanage Edge, you can see the beautiful church of St Michael's almost appearing to float in a sea of trees, the interlocking spurs of land weaving across each other and away into the distance, following the line of the River Derwent.
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This beautiful, quiet lane between the villages of Grindleford and Eyam is a wonderful place to wander in every season and at every time of day, but I felt so incredibly lucky to chance upon it in the summer mist, with the sun shining through those magnificent beech trees beside the gate. Everything had a slightly ethereal, magical glow.
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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.
