After a crisp evening, when Pendle glowed in sandstone red under a Michelangelo blue, and one’s breath stung skin and chest, Bonfire Night opened the gate to

My fascination with grass, its filigree beauty rooted in a common, if not ordinary, existence, has developed during hours waiting on the meadows on Pendle, for a

The aroma of fresh, wet grass, the tickle of soft pollen, the chirps of swallows and finches, the humm of tiny flies, sprinkled as gold

This merry month has shot through the soil in the Ribble Valley. Within days the last sycamore and oak has budded or sprung into leaf, towering

Some days the Yorkshire Dales beckon like strongest bait with their silver cliffs and limestone faces. Pen-y-Ghent dominates the silhouette, slightly ominous, like a dormant

No other time of year is as full of promise as Easter time. When March turns into April, the northern counties at last rise from cold

It was the first day of the year when the setting sun did not bring along a biting breeze, but instead let the day exhale

Winter is pulling on spring’s coat tails like a petulant child, needing to make a stand. Spring, however, shakes the bland skies and freezing air day

The sun shone down on a bronzed field of frost and snow in the heights of Bowland on this mid November morning. Brilliantly white it lay

When the sun rushes through the forest of an October morning, leaves blink in metallic clarity, reflective of a palace’s gilded decor that pours over dwellers in a waterfall of