It was beautiful in the Peak District this afternoon. Beautiful but cold. No flowers, no birdsong. Yet.
I love the layers of this landscape: the way it repays closer scrutiny. The shadows, the tree, the puddles. The road; the obvious. Moving out into the open. The new fence and the older gateposts. Then, the abandoned gatepost in the field to the left. Memories, in the land, of older boundaries and routes. Dark, the dotted line of the molehills, mapping a subterranean system older than the farmland above it.
Fading, changing, working. In the far distance, the cold aloofness of the hills.
More Peak District beauty.
I took these last Sunday in the Peak District. How the weather can change in a week! Today: grey, raw, sleet and general murk. Just shows how we should make the most of things while we can.