Lapwings plunge and soar, their pitches and rolls so sudden it is as if they are caught in violent eddies of the air, freak vortexes that suck them in and swirl and spin them above the boggy, rush-filled pastures at the head of Hippins Clough. But they are in absolute control, their aerobatics ending every … Continue reading Surge
Spring is suspended, paused in its progress by days of single-figure highs and an overnight frost. Having been well on their way to painting the valley green, the birches refuse to budge any further. The single beech in Horsehold Wood that took the bait when the going was good is now very much out on … Continue reading Pause
Stacked Pennine horizons haze into the south. Wind farms crowd the eastern skylines of Lancashire and Greater Manchester, 42 turbines spinning in the stiff spring breeze. West and closer to hand, nine more are planted on Ovenden Moor, crumpled with the quarries of the Nab Hill Delphs. On the slope under this shattered plateau was … Continue reading Horizons
The clatter of clogs, the ring of clashing swords and the cheers of hundreds of spectators echo around Weavers Square. In the centre of the medieval village of Heptonstall, as at every Good Friday, the Pace Egg play, a Calder Valley version of the traditional hero-combat British folk or mumming play, is being performed. Whether … Continue reading Wilding
In a cold, grey afternoon, a single swallow silently hawks above the willow flowers. Having arrived two or three weeks earlier than most of its tribe, it has no companions to call to, and insects must be thin in the raw air. But perhaps it was not such a misjudgement after all, for two days … Continue reading Spell
Old Town Mill, a mid-19th-century worsted mill, is a monolithic landmark for miles around and is nearing the completion of a scheme to create 25 dwellings amongst its four stories. It stood at the bottom of the garden and grounds of Boston Hill House, the grand home of the Mitchell family, who acquired the mill … Continue reading Remembering
A chiffchaff fires the starting gun on spring with its two-tone call. Uninspired as its song is, there are few clearer signs that the seasons have shifted than the arrival of the first summer migrant from Africa, and all life in the valley is in agreement: a buff-tailed bumblebee drones in and out of the … Continue reading Rising
Storm Larisa blusters all day, the swirl of snow impressive, yet it’s all to little effect: at last light there is disappointment among the would-be sledgers at the meagre covering of snow on the village green. But after dark it redoubles its efforts, raging all night. School closure notices are sent out at dawn, and … Continue reading Threshold
The head of Crimsworth Dean, cradled on all sides by the moor, is utterly quiet. No one is venturing out in the bone-cold morning under the grey skies. But this silence and stillness has not always prevailed. One hundred and seventy years ago, 22 farms occupied the 600 or so acres of enclosed land upstream … Continue reading Abundance
Skeins of pink-footed geese trumpet over, their arrows made up of anything between 30 and 300 bugling birds. In six weeks, their regular passages over the valley’s airspace to find feeding in flatter fields of winter crops will end, as they migrate back to their summer breeding grounds in Greenland and Iceland. And this is … Continue reading Gift
Landscape Story 