A winter walk from Embsay

The weather has been such that you have to seize the good days for walks and stay cosy inside when it's wet and dreary... and there have been far more wet, dull days than bright ones. On one 'good day' I went for a circular walk from the village of Embsay, just outside Skipton. It's a nice little village with a good community feel, originally a medieval monastic holding which grew during the Industrial Revolution when several mills were built in the area. I imagine the pond in my photo above was once a mill dam.  

It was a really frosty morning, temperatures hovering just below 0°C, with a winter sparkle on the foliage.

Looking back down into the valley there were threads of mist hanging over the river. 

Just above Embsay is a small reservoir, popular for summer boating judging by the number of small sailboats on the shore.  

Depending on the direction I looked in, the scenery was either quite intense and colourful or interestingly bleached out due to the low sun. That's Embsay Crag in the photo above. 

As I climbed higher up towards the Crag the views were lovely. 

It wasn't a long walk, less than four miles, so the path soon turned back downhill, returning to Embsay through fields - and always with that delightful view. 

Find the walk route HERE.

Santa's Christmas cruise

This started during the Covid lockdown as a way to bring some Christmas cheer but it now seems to have become something of a tradition. The folk at the Gallows Bridge boatyard in Shipley persuade Santa and his missus to have a short cruise along the Leeds-Liverpool Canal through Shipley and Saltaire, to the delight of our local children. 

I got my camera settings right this year. (I do learn!) To get a fast enough shutter speed to freeze the action in the gathering twilight, it needed a very high ISO but the 'noise' (grain) generated was easily dealt with by Lightroom's new denoise feature. Smiles all round! 

Harewood's Christmas #2

Harewood's log fires were lit and the rooms felt cosy, despite their grandeur. Christmas is perhaps the time when many of us would like slightly bigger spaces to decorate. I can't even fit a proper tree into my tiny sitting room, so I'm hoping my new apartment with its larger lounge will have enough space for one. 

I know there'll be no room for a rocking horse, though ever since I was tiny I've had a secret yearning for one! The wooden painted horse that had just been 'unwrapped' in Harewood's library was absolutely beautiful. 

The Cinnamon Drawing Room holds some fabulous portraits, though it was a little hard to see past the references to Christmas board games that decorated the room. I don't remember one called 'Easy Money' to be honest. 

In the Gallery, which is the most fabulous, huge room with rich red wallpaper and an absolutely stunning Adam ceiling (see HERE), the fireplace was prettily decked with swags of baubles and somehow that did highlight the famous El Greco painting: 'An Allegory'. 

Harewood's Christmas #1

Harewood House has a tradition of dressing its State Rooms for Christmas. I really enjoyed the displays last year so thought I'd go again this year. It was good - not quite as amazing as last year, which would have been a hard act to follow, but it was still enjoyable to wander through the beautiful rooms and enjoy the Christmassy feel. It is all done with such care and flair. 

I think it was the trees themselves that left me slightly underwhelmed this year. They had huge cardboard cutouts adorning them, which I thought detracted from their inherent beauty. 

The theme this year was 'Harewood's Great Time Travelling Christmas' (designed by Studio Mutt) and each big room took inspiration from a time in the last fifty years as well as looking forward to what Christmases might be like in the future.

The menu for Christmas dinner in the 'future room' had lab grown turkey with hydroponic sprouts, and the Christmas tree was 'virtual'. Not what I'd get excited about ...  Christmas for me has to have a healthy dose of nostalgia and familiarity. 

There was music in the music room - a spotlit piano and a stunning chandelier had impact though whether the display referenced Elton John or Liberace I wasn't too sure! Elton, I guess, looking at those starry specs. Is he a fixture in people's Christmases? 

Anyway, enjoy a Christmassy tune, courtesy of Elton and Ed Sheeran, HERE and just gaze at that marvellous chandelier. Now, it would be fun to find one of those among my presents! 

My view

Hot (well, cold really!) on the heels of the first snow, we had a little more overnight. It was very wet and the roads locally soon cleared but the same forecast persisted for a day or two. It rarely gets too bad here in the valley but higher up on the moors and dales it is usually far worse. 

For various reasons I wasn't able to go out to 'enjoy' the snow, too many tasks to do inside. I'm never very sure if I do enjoy it anyway! It's better when it is crisp and bright but it was the wet, slushy, misty kind of snowfall. So I stayed lingering luxuriously for a while in my cosy bed with a cup of tea and my iPad, before reluctantly rising and getting on with life. I like to open the curtains a bit and enjoy the lovely view of trees outside, always beautiful, in snow or none. The little orange patch that's visible is the netball post in the yard of the school opposite. After 25 years of it, I shall miss this view, though I will be able to see trees from my new flat. When I was looking for a new place, I realised that was a non-negotiable element.

First snow

We woke on the last day of November to find the first snowfall of the winter had happened overnight. It wasn't entirely expected in this part of Yorkshire. The 'amber alert' area had been further north and east but was revised overnight. It was jolly cold, a heavy frost exacerbating the effect of the minor flurry of snow. When the sun came out it soon melted the ice where its rays touched but in the shadows the frosting lasted all day.

I had already planned to go for a walk so it was pleasant to stroll along the riverside at Bolton Abbey. I enjoyed the effect of the sunshine catching the trees and turning them gold, whilst the river was mostly enveloped in a blue-brown shadow.  

I crossed over at the aqueduct bridge, that strange crenellated structure, and walked back to the Cavendish Pavilion along the higher route at the other side.

Quiet nights out

It was only about 5pm when I popped into the village on an errand, but there were few people about. The shops and cafés were still open, their lighted windows glowing warm and inviting. 

Since I was a child, I've always liked early evenings in winter. I remember travelling home on the bus and peeping into houses from the high vantage point of the bus window. People often seem to leave the curtains open for a while after it gets dark, meaning you can see into their rooms. It was like experiencing a whole series of mini-stories, gleaned from a quick glance into someone else's world. The woman ironing in front of the TV; an old man sitting in a cosy armchair, reading a newspaper; a cat lying across the back of a sofa; two people standing - arguing, perhaps?; someone just arrived home and taking their coat off; a child playing...

Transition

'Transition' seems to be the word of the moment round here. My days (and occasional sleepless nights!) are full of planning and organising to move house, which is looking like it will happen in mid-January. There's a limit to what I can do as I can't really start much packing yet but my head is full of 'stuff'. All the more reason then to take advantage of the occasional crisp, bright, dry day for a restorative walk. The season is in transition too - no longer really autumn but not quite winter. (Although we've had a little snow since I wrote this.) 

The photo above seemed to sum that up. A sycamore tree still doggedly hanging on to its leaves, whilst caught in the branches is a flyer for a Christmas carol concert: 'Carols By Candlelight'. Further along, looking back, the same tree reveals its full glory as the low sun catches it. 

Meanwhile, in Saltaire village, the canal was so calm that the reflection of the New Mill looked almost more substantial than the building itself. 

There is the security point at Salts Mill, with its blue 'Police' sign and attractive, arched windows - though it was the curious, coloured reflection of the window in a puddle that caught my eye this time. If I'd been carrying my camera I could have made more of it, but the phone doesn't have the telephoto reach that I needed. 

By the allotments above the Mill, the brave little silver birch tree still has a shower of golden leaves, looking as rich and bright as gold sovereigns against a blue sky. I've been reading that in Japan they name 72 different micro-seasons in an ancient natural calendar, and that sounds about right when you stop to notice the minor but still noticeable progressions of nature. 

Transition can be unsettling and make us impatient but better to try to live through it with awareness and joy in each moment, or you end up wishing your life away. That's what I'm trying to remind myself. 

Tangled moon

'The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself.' 

Tahereh Mafi 

The last leaves of autumn

These are the last leaves of autumn but they did remind me of a wonderful and evocative song, written by Gallagher and Lyle and recorded by the Irish band The Fureys back in 2005, called 'The First Leaves of Autumn'. Do listen to it, HERE. 

As the daylight turns to starlight and the season turns to change,
I get the same old answers
but the question still remains.
We shared a brief but magic song,
By the first leaves of autumn,
you were gone.

Not until the rain has touched my face,
Not until the first leaves fell from space,
Not until that moment did I see,
I never realised what you meant to me.

From the days you filled with sunlight,
To the laughter in your eyes,
To the making and the breaking
of the day you said goodbye,
We shared a brief but magic song,
By the first leaves of autumn,
you were gone.

Switched on

There was quite a crowd gathered for the switching on of Saltaire's Christmas tree lights. It takes place in late November, which always feels a little too early to me, but I think people like to get a festive lift to the spirits when times are a bit tough and there is so much nastiness going on in the world. Music was provided by the Hallroyd Brass Band. I do love a brass band and they certainly gave the proceedings some cheer with their Christmassy music. 

Even Santa Claus was there, leading the countdown and having his photo taken. I think he's spent all year growing and polishing his luxuriant beard and hair. It was impressive. 

The tree is quite tall but step back a bit and you can see it is dwarfed by the vast bulk of Saltaire's Victoria Hall, built as an educational and leisure institute by Sir Titus Salt in the mid-19th century and still used by the community today. 

Countdown to Christmas

So... the countdown to Christmas starts here! How did that happen? This year seems to have gone by so fast, partly, I think, because it's been so dull and wet here since July. I feel like I'm still waiting for 'summer'. Well, I'm not going to get it now, am I? So I might as well enjoy this last Christmas in my current house, my 25th Christmas here. Do you think I should perhaps adopt a 'silver' theme?

I'm not sure how many other countries have 'advent calendars'. They were a feature of my childhood that my sister and I enjoyed, though in those days they just had little pictures behind each window. Nowadays they are all full of chocolate or small gifts. I've often fancied a Jo Malone advent calendar, full of fragrances, colognes and bath and body treats - but at £350 I won't be getting one! (Anyway, it seems they've sold out.) 

Saltaire will be having its annual Advent Windows Festival, so I hope to get out and take a few photos of the displays at some point. Otherwise I shall be knee deep in packing cases as the month moves on. I am hoping to move early in the New Year, if all goes well. 

(Actually I just realised that technically this will be my 26th Christmas in this house. But the first was just a few days after I moved in so I spent it with friends, who refused to let me unpack boxes on Christmas Day! Seems I always move at this time of year... )

Oh, and for the avoidance of doubt, this photo is NOT my home, which is filling up with boxes and bubble wrap rather than Christmas decor. I spotted the arrangement on my travels and thought it worthy of a photo. 

Six thousand steps

We finally had a couple of dry days last weekend. Not that it lasted! It was, however, very welcome after so much rain, wind and general gloom. I made the most of it with a Sunday stroll around my usual circuit - park, river, canal. There are small variations in my possible route but it usually works out at around 6000 steps, about 2.5 miles. Even when I move house, this route will still be possible, though it will be bookended by a steep walk downhill and a steep walk back uphill at the end. I'm choosing to see that as a healthy addition to my exercise routine, which will go some way to compensating for the loss of a staircase in the move from house to flat!

My photos are mostly self-explanatory for regular readers of my blog who have 'accompanied me' many times on this circuit. 

Winter is settling over the landscape. Most trees have lost most of their leaves, though there are still flashes of gold here and there. There were more folk about than my photos would suggest: joggers, cyclists, people walking dogs. On the river there were several rowing boats. Most seemed to be crewed by people learning how to navigate the river in those long, thin, flimsy craft. There were coaches in some of the boats and at least one chap cycling up and down the riverside path with a megaphone and a safety rope. The river has been in flood recently so it was good to see it calmer and running at a lower level. The rowing club members were taking full advantage. 

In contrast, all was very calm on the canal, allowing for some stunning reflections in the still water. 

On Salts' sports field, there was a lively football match taking place, though I haven't been able to find any details online.  It looked like a proper match rather than a practice and there were a few spectators. 

Returning on the home straight, it's always good to see the New Mill chimney and the church reflected in the canal as I arrive back in the village.