The last half mile of yesterday’s walk brought snow, in light flurries to begin with. For thirty-six hours it fell, frequently a swirling white-out though with occasional breaks. Early this afternoon I kitted up: wellies, merino skinware, layers of down, fleece and cagoule. Leaving Jasper at home – he’d be literally out of his depth where I was headed – I mostly retraced my steps. There were lanes and moors I never ventured yesterday, woods and fields I passed over today, but enough overlap for these pictures to show a world transformed. What a difference a day makes.
Well you did better than us – we sat inside looking out at waves of incoming blizzards and (despite being good walkers) were pleased not to be out in it!
Well as you can see, the day had its moments of sun and azure sky. As for the rest, well, to borrow from the Tremeloes, even the bad times were good.
On the way back I threw cool to the wind, looped a blue tooth headset over woolly hat and chilled to the exquisite voice and arrangements of the late Jeff Buckley. One snag: whenever I took a snap the music halted a nanosecond then resumed a beat or three back up the line. That’s what you get, I suppose, from having phones triple up as camera and hi-fi system.
The North Easter brought snow and windswept moorland which you captured beautifully in photographs and narrative. The Bronte sisters would have loved that walk.
Yes, I suppose they would have Ceejay