Saturday 5th December. Heading toward Scout Scar, we turned to look east and, behind us, the Howgills rose gleaming white with snow. To either side, the fells were streaked with snow but the Howgills had borne the brunt of the snowfall. It's not only snowfall that suggests the season- the low winter sun illuminates the earth distinctly. There is a hint of warm colour and texture too.
Sunday 6th December.
Only traces of snow lingered on the Howgills. When there has been overnight snow you can trace the weather, seeing where snow has fallen and settled, where the fells are bare. The previous day there had been a dome of blue sky over Scout Scar and a warm light on the earth. Today, Scout Scar was in shadow. To the west and north, a glorious light illuminated the fells.
Those wondrously sunlit fells look so inviting. If only ----. I linger all along Scout Scar escarpment, seeing where highlights fall, the magic and the mystery. The fells look so lovely you are there once more, reliving times past. You are there, you, me, those who love the fells and cannot come there. Cannot, should not. This pandemic year, has been a yearning shared. And sometimes a glimpse into how others feel, a moment of candour. Not the self-regarding, self-conscious vox pop the media invites, but moments of openness and spontaneity.
A stranger greeted me cheerily in the beauty of the morning,, looking longingly toward the fells. Tells me he always walks the fells but not this year. How could I, he asks. I couldn't live with myself if I fell and had to call out the Mountain Rescue, not now, couldn't take the chance. Couldn't do that to them. A confidence that came out of the blue.