Yesterday I showed you soggy France, a few winters ago. Today I’ll show you soggy North Yorkshire, yesterday. Despite often being up to my ankles in mud and water, I found my end-of-day walk had its own particular delights.
To cheer you up on a cold and snowy Saturday (rain later), here are puppets, all from the 1970s and 80s, from one of Cádiz’s best-kept secrets: El Museo del Titere – The Puppet Museum.
These daffodils appear days after Christmas.
Just beside the village pond.
This year and every single year.
A frosty walk on New Year’s Eve with my Virtual Dog had me taking snapshots of the icy puddles I came across. This was the last one. Here be monsters, ghosts, puppets, all kinds of flights of fancy. What can your imagination come up with as you peer at this ghastly frozen face?
And as it was my last shot of the month, I’ll pop it in for Brian at Bushboy’s World Last on the Card event. I’ve had to make it square for this month’s Square Up challenge, but apart from that, this icy image is just as it appeared, winking up at me from a frigid, frosted muddy path.
And there’s always Six Word Saturday, too …
Weather forecast. Cold, but bright and sunny. That sounded perfect for a walk in Wharfedale. Starting and finishing at the forbiddingly-named Grimwith Reservoir, and taking a fine circular route to and from Burnsall would give us extensive panoramas over the hills of the Yorkshire Dales.
Except that on the way there, an impenetrable curtain of fog descended. To walk? Or not to walk? My friend and I had both made the effort to get there. So we’d walk.
And for nearly an hour, this was our landscape. No hills, no dales, but just the occasional gate, or tussocky grass, or – sometimes – sheep.
Then – suddenly it seemed – this.
The sky lightened and brightened, and the countryside we’d come to see developed before our eyes like those Polaroid photos that once seemed so exciting.
Soon we were at Burnsall, our half-way mark. A hearty yomp up hill brought us to a bench, where we saw in turn black skies, grey skies, blue skies: and views, always with the village below us.
After lunch, a further climb, and then level walking back to where we’d begun our day. But this time we had the views we’d come to see, and at the end, the quiet tints of the reservoir.
Trawling through my photos looking for something I couldn’t find, I came across these.
The featured photo comes from RSPB Saltholme.
‘I don’t take kindly to your tramping so near to my nest and my fledglings. Kindly desist’
‘We’re only here to take photos. We’re birdwatchers – kind of – and we’re only here for a couple of hours’.
‘We’ve met your kind before. Go away or I’ll peck a hole in your hat!’
‘That’s unkind. We’re kindred spirits here. We love the Farne Islands too. All you Arctic terns, thousands and thousands of you. And so many other kinds of bird too’
‘Frankly, you kindle nothing but feelings of irritation and annoyance. Just … go away.’
Last spotted in Redmire, North Yorkshire.
One kind resident made us laugh.
Not a UK resident? Read this.
Out of the loop? Read this.
Dumfries & Galloway is our new favourite place. We felt as though we’d discovered it and had it all to ourselves. We explored the wildly beautiful and seemingly remote Cairnsmore of Fleet National Natural Nature Reserve. We found ancient cairns. We slogged up hills for the sake of views over the Solway Firth. And we enjoyed the beaches. We’ll take a virtual seaside trip today: there’s not a fairground ride, amusement arcade or kiss-me-quick hat in sight. There’s not even a chippie. Just us, the rocky shore, and the sea, advancing or retreating with the tide.
Let’s begin at Mossyard Bay. I sent you a postcard from there just last Thursday.
Near Mutehill, Kirkudbright, early one morning.
Finally, Carsethorne, near Dumfries. It’s a small hamlet now, but it used to be a busy port, shipping people to Liverpool, to the Isle of Man and to Ireland on their way to a new life in the New World.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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