Month: September 2024
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“Take Me To The Forest”
In a move that is sure to leave the squirrels bewildered, the National Portfolio Organisationsâ Wild Rumpus and Festival of Thrift have unveiled their grand plan to transform the tranquil forests of Guisborough into a festival of organised anarchy. They are calling it “Take Me To The Forest,” a spectacle destined to overwhelm the senses…
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Michaelmas Traditions: From the Devilâs Brambles to Cabbage Wars
One of my favourite sights is the spectacle of a temperature inversion in Bilsdale, when the mist rolls over the Cleveland Hills like a waterfall, spilling into the plain below. Such was the view this morning, on this day of St Michaelâs Feast, or Michaelmas. Michaelmas, celebrated on the 29th of September each year, marks…
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After the Rain: Life on Newton Moor
A sky of blue is like a breath of fresh air after the dreary weather weâve been enduring for the past week. It lifts the spirits, reminding us that sunlight still exists. It is not every day that one sees standing water on Newton Moor. While the ground is often damp and there are always…
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Great Fryup Dale: Cooking Up Change
Nestled in the dramatic expanse of the North York Moors National Park, where heather dominates the moors, trees line the becks in the dales, and the coastline is battered by the North Sea, lies Great Fryup Dale, a place as delectable as its name. It is, by all appearances, a great deal like its sibling,…
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The Minerâs Path: From Ironstone to Ypres
The constant rain has transformed Airyholme Lane into a stream, though it mercifully spills into the field before it reaches the farmyard. I cannot help but wonder what the weather was like on this day in 1917. The miners from Roseberry Ironstone Mine would have trudged along this track to and from their shifts. Did…
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Geese over the Moor, Jets in the Sky: My Morning Routine Disturbed
Wednesday mornings have become a predictable affairâeach week beginning with a stroll across Battersby Moor. This morning, however, my private reverie were rudely interrupted by the coarse honking of a skein of geese, or what I dare venture to call greylags, flapping about in that charmingly organised way they have, perhaps several hundred strong, hurtling…
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Gateposts to Nowhere, Retired Urinal
I took this photo because of the rather grandiose gateposts that stand in lonely splendour by the footpath near Suggittâs bridge. These have always intrigued me for they seem far too well-dressed for their rural setting, yet the Ordnance Survey 25â map from 1894 offers no hint for such ostentation. They remain a mystery, guarding…
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Zen and the Art of Being Out & About
Another gloriously miserable day on the North York Moors, the sort of day where fog clings like a wet blanket over everything, damping one’s bones. I heard later the Great North Air Ambulance had been grounded due to poor visibility. It is, as ever, a perfect day for a bit of being out and about.…
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The night lengthens and the day wanes
Ah, Roseberry on the autumnal equinox â or, perhaps I should say: “a day with not much to see.” At precisely 1:44pm BST, the Earth performed its annual act of balancing on a metaphorical tightrope. It’s axis, normally so busy tilting this way and that, was for once perfectly upright, neither tipping its cap to…
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From Widheris to Wether House: A Farmsteadâs History
On Wetherhouse Moor, nature is quietly concealing the remains of a post-medieval farmstead beneath the watchful eye of a solitary sycamore. Of the original three ranges, little can be discerned now, save for a crumbling gable end of a barn. It has, for more than a century, since the last tenants left, been steadily yielding…