Whither the weather?

So far here in West Yorkshire we seem to have avoided the worst of the winter weather that other parts of the UK have suffered: snow, particularly in Scotland; wind and flooding in the South-West. It has certainly been damp and miserable but nothing terrible. It sometimes makes for interesting photos. I stopped at the top of High Bank Lane (aptly named!) to enjoy the storm clouds along the valley, looking towards Baildon Moor.  

Another morning, I drew back the curtains to discover thick fog outside. I had an appointment for a cut and blow-dry at a hair salon on Gordon Terrace. By the time I went out, the sun was breaking through and burning off the mist. I enjoyed how the light was catching the trees that grow on the waste ground (what was once a small quarry, I think) on the walk down. Despite my neatly coiffed (for once!) head, I decided on a walk before I returned home but, during the hour of my appointment, the fog had totally disappeared. It made for an enjoyable walk in the sunshine, which was actually remarkably warm for the time of year.  

Yorkshire humour (repost)

I was obviously suffering from a lack of current photos to post on my blog even as far back as 2010.... This was my offering for 1st February that year, a bit of Yorkshire humour, so I thought it worth repeating:

'I guess even the most enthusiastic bloggers must sometimes have to raid the archives for inspiration and I'm no exception.  (We could call it 'blogger's block'!)  I came across this photo that I took a few months ago, of an old cemetery near Heptonstall, up on the hills above Hebden Bridge. My dad would have called it the dead centre of Yorkshire - and there isn't much more to say about it. (Although it is near the comically-named hamlet of Slack Bottom, whose name I have always enjoyed!)  And it does give me an excuse to tell you one of my favourite Yorkshire dialect jokes:

An elderly Yorkshireman was distraught when his devoted - and devout - wife died. His only comfort was knowing she had gone to be with the Lord. He gave much thought to what to put on her memorial stone and eventually decided Lord, she was Thine would be appropriate. When he went to view the stone, however, he was dismayed to find it had been inscribed Lord, she was thin. He immediately contacted the stonemason, telling him: "You've missed off the 'E' ". The mason replied that he was sorry but it was no problem and he would correct it. When the widower went again to see the stone, he found it now said: Ee Lord, she was thin.'

Keeping heritage alive

I used to walk this way, through Salts Mill's yard, almost every day when I was at work. It was either a good lunchtime walk to stretch my legs or, occasionally, a different route home. I rarely need to use this path any more, though I always enjoy seeing the big mill chimney at close quarters. 

Plaques on the wall remind us that alpacas were the source of the wool that made Sir Titus Salt's fortune. He was one of the first to use it at a large scale, combining it with sheep's wool to make a fine and lustrous cloth. 

The sliding doors on the warehouses along this route are usually closed, so I was delighted to find them open and to get a glimpse inside... huge bales of raw wool! 

This is the premises of H Dawson, 'Wool Experts since 1888'. I've looked at their website HERE and find that they source, grade and clean wool for supply to other businesses, who use it in a variety of ways in soft furnishings, mattresses, wadding, pillows, carpets, yarns and knitwear. It seems eminently fitting that there is still a wool heritage craft located in this great temple of the wool industry. Long may it continue. 

Classic view

I guess I'm not alone in finding this time of year quite difficult. Everywhere looks so drab, and it's so cold and damp. I have to use willpower to make myself go out and I'm certainly not inspired photographically when there is little 'good' light. This classic view of Salts Mill's vast south frontage, seen from the Victoria Road allotments, is one I can easily take for granted. Familiarity means we forget how mind-blowing the huge mill really is. The West and East Mills, the parts you can see here, are just a fraction of it. Some of these huge rooms once held the spinning machines, and are now art galleries and shops.   

Land of hope and glory

Saltaire is still, for lots of reasons, a desirable place to live. It's a thriving and creative community, and the houses, built in the mid-1800s as homes for the mill workers at Salts Mill, remain comfortable. Many are quite small but they are sought after by young people starting out on the housing ladder and by a few older people choosing to downsize. 

Wandering through the streets, I often wonder what it must have felt like to those early residents, moving from the disease-ridden slums of the city out to what was then truly a 'greenfield site'. The village was well planned and relatively spacious; its homes comfortable, with plenty of light and their own private backyards. 

From the bottom of the streets, you still see the green of Hope Hill rising up, across the other side of the river. I wonder if it felt like 'a land of hope and glory' to those hard-working folk who first lived here?  

Fountains Abbey

Since I've run out of current photos until I can go somewhere interesting, and since we've recently had a look at Bolton Priory, I thought I'd repost a collection of my images of Fountains Abbey. Up near Ripon, it's probably one of the UK's most stunning ruined abbeys, now a World Heritage Site. It was a Cistercian monastery, founded in 1132, and became one of the wealthiest in England due to its extensive landholdings. That didn't stop Henry VIII dismantling it in the 1500s, and then it was sold and became part of a landowner's estate, eventually becoming a 'romantic ruin' in a vast garden site. It's now in the care of the National Trust. 

I'll let the photos speak for themselves. It's apparent that I often visit in winter! That avoids some of the crowds that converge in summer, though it's always busy. I just might drive over there again soon, though not until the weather has improved a bit.  For more about it's history, see HERE. 

Shop local

One of the advantages of living where I do now is that there are local shops within a few minutes walk. At the moment I still do a weekly supermarket shop but, more and more, I'm enjoying just popping down to Gordon Terrace to supplement that. There's a Co-op that has milk, store cupboard items and even a few gluten free things - bread and cakes - which is helpful for me. It does sell fruit and veg but if I need those I buy from the specialist greengrocer, The Orange Grove. They are a little more expensive but usually good quality. I can buy exactly the quantity I need, even if that's just a couple of carrots or one jacket potato. They also stock more unusual items that the supermarkets often don't have: pomegranates, Jerusalem artichokes, heritage tomatoes. On some days of the week you can buy fresh fish here too. During the Covid lockdown this shop was a real lifeline for people. They even started a delivery service. I'm very much hoping they're still in business at whatever point in the future I need to give up my car and truly shop local. 

A hop to Skipton

I had a number of errands to do in Skipton. It's a busy market town about half an hour's drive from here. It has the advantage that it's easy to get many of the things you need in quite a compact area. I find there's something truly satisfying about being economical in my movements. I had the car washed; got my glasses realigned so they don't press on my nose; purchased the expensive eyedrops that only my optician stocks; bought some walking poles in one of Skipton's many 'outdoor' shops; stocked up on dried fruit and nuts relatively cheaply from the store that sells them in bulk; explored a new yarn shop that several friends had recommended; had a walk along the canal and enjoyed coffee and cake in a lovely café near the canal basin. Then I finished off with my weekly supermarket shop in Keighley on the way home. All most satisfying and a good use of a fairly chilly, dull, damp day. 

There was a lady feeding bread to the gulls and pigeons. That is definitely not encouraged but people don't take any notice! 

 

The struggle is real

We are nearing the end of January and I don't think winter has fully played out yet. A very cold spell was followed by a mild, wet spell - and it seems that has enticed some of the buds out. The shrub above is a camellia. They do flower early and that leaves them very prone to frost damage, which is a shame as they are such beautiful blooms. 

There are catkins in abundance on the trees bordering Caroline Street car park. 

Crocuses also tend to flower in February-March and they are already pushing through the grass in Roberts Park.

But, oh dear, look at this... Where they flower on the grassy bank leading down to the river, there is more mud than grass. Part of the reason is the very wet weather. Part of the reason too is that they have had the path under the footbridge closed for months (despite the fact that the remedial work on the footbridge is supposed to have been completed). That means that people walk over the grass to reach the viewing area by the weir, and that footfall has worn away most of the grass. In a good year the area looks like THIS - but I don't think 2026 is going to be a good year for them, somehow! 

All the rain does mean there's plenty of water rushing over the weir, which is always good to see. I love the shapes and crests that the water makes. 

Another place where the struggle is real is the Wash House Gardens, a small garden square in the centre of Saltaire. It was originally the site of the Victorian wash house and baths, which were intended to support the residents of the village (whose newly built and, for that time, well-equipped homes had outdoor privies in their back yards but no indoor bathroom). The facilities so thoughtfully provided by Sir Titus Salt were, however, not well used. People seemed to prefer to bathe (in tin baths in front of the fire) and do their laundry at home. In the late 1800s the wash house building was converted to housing and then demolished in the 1930s. Now it's a volunteer maintained garden, so it is sad to see that once again there appears to have been a theft of the slabs around the raised beds. It's happened several times before. Yorkshire stone is valuable. It's heartbreaking for those who put time and effort into caring for the gardens. 

There's rather a lot to be depressed about in the state of our world at the moment, I'm afraid. 

Twilight, Albert Terrace

It's no wonder that Albert Terrace is used so often as a film location. It is very atmospheric, and timeless (at least when there aren't too many cars visible). I love it best at twilight when the moody shadows add even more character. 

 

Murky

We Brits have a reputation for talking about the weather all the time. It's no doubt deserved, though is it any wonder when our days can be so markedly different from each other? In this small part of our world, since the New Year, we've had frost, ice, a dusting of snow and temperatures below zero, rain, mist and damp drizzle with temperatures above average for this time of year, plus a few days of crisp, bright sunshine. To be honest, I wouldn't like to live anywhere where the weather is the same all the time but even so the rapid changes have been dizzying. 

The ice stops me venturing out. To make sure I get the exercise I need, I therefore have to brave the rainy, damp days. I don't really mind. There's something soothing about a walk in the drizzle, when there are many fewer people about. It's fine provided you have appropriate clothing. 

As an illustration, I took these two photos from roughly the same spot just two days apart. (Some idiot in the meantime churned up the football field with - presumably- a quad bike. Grr.) 

I had to laugh one day when I saw this - that's me all over!! I only have a tolerance range of about 12ºC.

Talking of which, you remember on Christmas Eve I went to watch the Calderdale charity tractor run (and got thoroughly chilled to the bone.) Well, I just read that they raised a total of £25,141.35 for charity, so very well done to them all.  (That's over $36,600, for my US readers.) 

 

Along the Wharfe

Bolton Priory is in a lovely setting, hugged by the meanders of the River Wharfe.  There are extensive walks on the estate, though it was a bit too cold for me to go far on this visit. 

I couldn't resist trying some 'arty' shots of a patch of foam on the water. It looked a bit like someone had spilled a few cauliflowers! 

Also couldn't resist this curious sheep. You have to be quite careful at this time of year as the ewes are in lamb (as the red mark denotes) and can easily be spooked. I think they are most wary of dogs and they didn't seem to mind me walking slowly along the path. They continued to graze or - as this one - had a good but friendly look at me. 

Around the ruined Priory

This is a classic view of the ruined Priory. It's not as large nor as well preserved as some of our other great Yorkshire abbeys but its setting in a curve of the River Wharfe does make it rather beautiful. Looking down to the river from the ruins themselves, much of the floor plan just exists as broken walls. 

There are traces of what would have been a cloister, with a piscina in the wall. 

Some of the tracery of the windows and doors remains. 

The graves to the north and east of the Priory Church are relatively recent compared to the 850 year history of the site and the graveyard to the east, sloping down towards the river, is still in use. 

It's rare that you can see much of the detail of a stained glass window from the outside, but the sunlight shining through the larger windows on the south side of the nave illuminated those on the north side quite effectively.