December school runs through the woods – weaving our way between the holly that throngs around the oaks and under the ivy that clambers up the sycamores – are a countdown to Christmas. We grasped the opportunity for another early morning cloud inversion before school, the valley filled from Todmorden to Halifax with a writhing … Continue reading A Still Silent Valley
We were back at High Hirst Woodmeadow every Sunday through November, playing our part in Sheepwatch, a rota of volunteers making daily visits to check on the flock grazing the aftermath, the regrowth from the scything we gave it in July. The 14 whitefaced woodland lambs – a hardy traditional Pennine hill breed – have … Continue reading A Chill Sighing Wind
The crunch and swish of leaves grew gradually louder in the school run woods and lanes as October wore on, and the glowing leaves slotted themselves into place in growing, self-organising jigsaws as they were gently delivered downstream and pressed against the canal locks. We found our first cherry galls on the early falling oak … Continue reading A Good Green Earth
September saw us resuming our walks to school through the woods after the summer hiatus. We found all as we had left it six weeks earlier, apart from the wilting of the leaves of the mighty oak that fell just before the holidays, and the murmuring little stream we cross, which had been becoming more … Continue reading A Swift Surging Tide
Through August’s intermittent heat, we watched the mowing and baling of a succession of Erringden meadows. At the beginning of the month, we set off to climb through Callis Wood in the morning to see Far Meadow being mown, but were detained for a while at Rawdon Lock’s wide winding hole by a strange spectacle. … Continue reading A Tranced Glowing Land
A maelstrom of swifts swept us into July. The Stubbing Bridge is a favourite spot of theirs to feed, charging up and down the canyon made by the deep river walls before either darting under the bridge’s arch or launching over its parapet to scythe past the ears of anyone who happens to be passing. … Continue reading A High Beckoning Horizon
We took our chances among the incessant June showers to pay our first visit to Eagle Crag. We have long craned our necks up from the bus to wonder how we would ever reach this high looming outcrop, the upthrusting point of a stone blade that has impaled the impossibly steep hillside from behind. Once … Continue reading A Low Strong Sun
May is bluebell month; we waded through their torrents spilling down through the ancient woods on the way to school in the morning, and we deeply breathed in their scent rising on the warm air on the way home. When we judged they were at their peak, when there were barely any more buds to … Continue reading A Flawless Blue Morning
As the April days lengthened, we stretched our legs with a 10-mile yomp across the moors; after stocking up on cakes and sweets at May’s Shop, we followed faint paths among the tawny grasses, from the bony finger of Reaps Cross to the hulking ruin of Raistrick Greave. Abandoned by the young Mitchell and Stansfield … Continue reading A Wide Singing Sky
March began with a dusk snowfall, but it only reached down from the moorland edge to the high pastures and no further, with the deep valley’s woods, wreathed in a slow drifting fog, oblivious to what was happening above them. But we stayed attentive, our month one of watching and listening and hunting for signs … Continue reading A Slow Drifting Fog
Landscape Story 