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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Apparently the collective noun for a group of ducks on the ground is a Waddling. Sometimes the English language just gets it right, eh?! On this bright Summer morning in the tiny Peak District hamlet of Abney, these sweet white ducks were clearly off on a grand adventure. Looking just like they'd stepped out of the pages of a Beatrix Potter story, they waddled away to explore the countryside and enjoy the sun.
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There's such a soft beauty about Winter light and the muted colours of a misty morning, as if Nature is just easing gently into the day, slowly turning up the brightness, rather than the sudden POW! of gaudy daybreak in Summer. I can never resist an open gate, and this one was definitely tempting me into the Secret Garden beyond.
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Sometimes, when the early winter sun shines through the mist and fills the air with gold, you just have to open the door and walk through into the light and possibilities beyond, don't you? Centuries old and studded with iron, this wonderful oak door is at Haddon Hall and leads into the wild acres of the Haddon Medieval Park, a true secret garden, untouched for 900 years and left to the perfect hand of nature.
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As I walked past this woodland of tall, dark pines, my eye was caught by a spotlight of sun spilling down through the trees. It completely lit up a tiny beech sapling, still proudly bearing its blaze of orange leaves, a little flame of colour and light in the gloom. Everyone needs their moment to shine, and I think this was hers. I'm glad I was there to see it.
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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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This was definitely one of those mornings when I couldn't stop grinning like a loon because everywhere I looked there was so much beauty. Is it just me who does that?! But, oh, the soft winter sun falling through the mists and shining in pools of silver light on the water! The sparkle of ice on every tree and bright ripples reflecting on the old stones of the arched bridge. The Cromford Canal is a wonderful place to wander at any time of the year, but it has a perfect, quiet magic all of its own on frosty mornings.
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A wonderfully wild view of the gritstone slopes below Stanage Edge, the rusting heather and bracken leading on into the misty hills beyond, and that little farm hunkered down for shelter against the winds that whirl across the moors.
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This was such a beautiful morning in Padley Gorge in the depths of a snowy Winter, standing amid the falling flakes and watching as they picked out the stones in the old wall and contoured every bough and branch of those tall, tall beeches.
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This was such a beautiful morning in the Manifold Valley, the late autumn sunlight dappling the quiet country lanes and lighting up those ancient ridge and furrow patterns on the fields ahead. The little footpath on the right takes you down through the hills to Larkstone Lane, over the stone bridge across the river and up onto Old Park Hill beyond. Storybook names, and a landscape I never tire of exploring.
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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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This was an unforgettably beautiful morning in Beresford Dale, when the sun poured down through the golden leaves of this wonderful old chestnut tree and met the mist that was rising from the sparkling waters of the River Dove. The colours and sunshine were all reflected in the puddle for the finishing touch and I honestly could have stayed there all day.
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On a misty, still autumn morning, sitting by Burbage Brook as it tumbles through Padley Gorge, you can't help feeling that you've somehow fallen into a different world. Here there's no haste or pressure, no noise but the constant rush and bubble of water and the occasional fall of a leaf. I find that I always stay long, long after I've taken the shot, losing track of time, just watching and listening and breathing it all in, so grateful for such places and the chance to fall into them. It's always a wrench to climb back up to reality.
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This is the beautiful Peak District village of Alstonefield, looking about as perfect as possible in the early morning autumn light. It has a village green, a country pub, a 12th Century church, more pretty houses than you can shake a stick at, and perhaps best of all, Bert's Bench under the spreading golden sycamore. Who wouldn't want to sit here for a while and watch the sunlight catching in the fallen gold?
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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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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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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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The vivid pink of the heather on the Peak District moors looks wonderful every summer, bringing brightness and fabulous scents to the hills. I love the way the colours of the ground match the colours of the sky in this image, the early evening sunset turning the whole landscape a candy pink.
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There's nothing quite as fresh as early morning summer sunshine on a country lane - even if you have to get up at 4am to see it and feel less than fresh yourself! This lane in the little Peak District village of Wetton smelled and sounded as good as it looked. I just love those bright new greens, and the cow parsley covered in dew, as if everything has been laundered overnight.
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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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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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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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I hope you can look at this photograph and almost hear the wind whistling through the tall grasses?! Higger Tor is a wild, windswept peak, and it looks at its most dramatic under scudding storm clouds in the late autumn light. I know Wuthering Heights wasn't quite set in this part of the country, but I feel sure Emily Bronte would have loved the inspiration here.
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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.
