This must be how birds feel

Saturday was crisp and frosty with with a heart achingly blue sky. We packed a lunch, wrapped ourselves and the dog up and we headed for the hills.

I am always interested in what and why folk feel the need to leave some sort of 'mark' of their passing.
Sometimes it is a pre-painted rock - the type that seemed to flourish during the pandemic and now is almost endemic around the country. Stickers are increasingly common on road signs or gates. I was amused by the upside down sugar skull until I took a closer look and saw it was actually the right way up! 

My favourite I have to admit is this one .... SHEEEP! I wondered if the farmer who painted this was either distracted half way through and when he returned just continued without realising - or, if he wrote it as if he was yelling at the drivers who bomb through this open bit of moorland road with out even heeding the grazing ewes and their lambs. Who knows....

Moss of course threw herself into her walk - collecting sticks along the way regularly  'upgrading' until the stick was too large to 'dog-handle' along the narrow woodland path. She 'dog-fully' and doggedly dragged it some distance before discarding it for a very much smaller piece.

Alongside the path, I spotted at eye height, the sweetest and most exquisite nest made entirely of moss with a snowy centre. It seemed so exposed and vulnerable, but I suspect when the hawthorn is in full leaf, the nest would be magically invisible and it's contents safe.

There was frost encrusted winter debris all through the woodland which crunched and crackled beneath our feet.

On the far edge of the woods, where the trees thinned and the landscape felt ancient, we stopped for a mug of tea and watched brick red beef heifers graze and browse amongst the birch and hawthorn. They gradually surrounded us, occasionally lifting their huge shaggy heads to balefully glare however they never encroached or threatened us and we in return sat quietly and respectfully.

On the other side of the thin trees we arrived on the rolling ridges of the Dales. The thin blue icy sky felt high and brittle and oh so beautiful. It surrounded us, covered us and elated us.

This must be how birds feel when they fly.

We followed the higher path to the edge of the sunlight then dropped back into the valley, we had to return to the van before the sun slipped behind the hills taking with it the thin warmth we were holding on to.

Once back, we cracked on the kettle and curled cold hands around steaming mugs, ate digestive biscuits and watched the last of the light fade. These days fill my soul and clear my head.

#ichigoichie

Tuesday spotlights🤍🤍

The tips of my fingers are still cool as is the end of my nose. The two digestive biscuits and mug of tea tasted amazing once we'd returned from our afternoon walk but are now long gone. The snow and ice that covered the ground first thing this morning (when my car thermometer registered -4.5℃) had begun to melt creating a green and white marble patterning on the grass.🤍💚

Our village has several prominent hills surrounding it and they were all still flecked white and draped in misty layers beneath the dark and heavy skies. Despite that, the sun managed to find chinks in the clouds and fill our walk with warmth and light.💛🤎

Himself, Youngest, Moss and I did our local 'dog-loop' which is our go to short walk when weather permits. 🧡❤️

I am sure - almost 99% sure - that I have spotted our first Highland Coo calf but the mum was a large and hairy barrier and all I could see were little legs beneath her tum. No lambs yet - far too cold to give birth outside and the ewes that are out in the fields are still 'mums-with-tums'!

It is dark now, Moss has been fed and is gently snoring while she dreams dog dreams, Himself is in the kitchen baking an apple crumble as I type here. After a rather long morning of completing on-line mandatory training - it is little precious moments like these that make my day.💙💜

Hope you have had some of those today too (and I don't mean the mandatory training!!)

A moment in time

 After, what seems like weeks of dreary wet or bitterly cold days, yesterday was a gem with glorious gently warm sunshine and just a hint of a sharp breeze.

Himself and I (and Moss of course) took the chance and threw together a hasty picnic, donned boots and coats and headed off to a wooded valley surrounded by wild moorland hills between us and Hebden Bridge.

The air was bitingly fresh and the views sharp and clear. We followed a narrow bracken lined path around the edge of a boggy hill down to the valley bottom. There we crossed a chuckling stream which Moss desperately wanted to throw herself into.

We were staggered by the colours - after so many days of driech grey and sepia shades, the bracken in the sun beneath a clear blue sky was almost overwhelming. There was a brief respite from the breeze at the river's edge then as we climbed back out of the valley, we found it again. It was sneaky and could slip between scarves and up sleeves. However we soon warmed up as we plodded upwards to the ridge.

At the highest point we stopped for lunch by sheltering in a grouse butt (shooting box) with our faces in the sun. Sharing sandwiches and mugs of tea, I offered Moss a dog snack which produced a series of goofy faces...

Our path took us off the edge and down through old farmlands and into older woodlands. The beauty of walking, is not just the act of movement, the joy of discovery it is also gives me the opportunity to think. I've been dwelling on my 'Word of the Year'. Last year was 'Care' and I kept that as a guide line, a bench mark a goal and on the whole it worked and I am gently pleased at the guidance to gave me.

I had toyed with the word 'Confelicity' (taking pleasure in another's happiness) which, when I thought about it - I already do, so that was a bit of a cop out. This walk found what I wanted ... my word for this year is actually a Japanese phrase - Ichigo Ichie which directly translates into - one time one meeting. The principle behind Ichigo ichie is to encourage you to appreciate the magic of every moment as it will never reoccur the exact same way ever again. Time is fleeting and each moment should be cherished as they may never be experienced again even with the same people at the same place.

Our walk was the first serious one of 2023 and apart from the staggeringly beautiful day after all the dreary grey we've had recently, this walk was amazing and just filled my eyes and my heart. 

And gave me my word for this year - I certainly want to make the most of every moment and this was the perfect start!

Do you have a word for the year to guide you, inspire you?

Do you do new year's resolutions?

Did you manage to get out on the bank holiday and breathe in some new air?

💜💙💛🧡❤️💚🤍🖤🤎