Looking north, the fells lost in mist Snow came overnight from the north-east, patterning the face of the out-take wall approaching Scout Scar. The Howgills lie snow-white and sculptural. Fells to the north and west are lost in mist and low cloud. Mist rises from the Lyth Valley and toward Morecambe Bay the estuary and the sea gleam as the sun casts a soft gold over the sky. The panorama of snow-clad fells is hidden but Scout Scar escarpment lies sunlit under snow, and that is rare.
At other times I hope to venture early onto new-fallen snow, it’s a rite of winter. It is -4 degrees at dawn and there’s an ice-warning until mid-morning. The steepest pitch of the Brigsteer Road lies in shadow and will be treacherous. For those who walk from home for exercise we weigh the lure of Scout Scar against the risk of falling on ice when the pressure on the NHS in the pandemic is severe. As I come off the Scar the light is fading and the Bradleyfield farmer is out feeding his pregnant flock.
In lockdown 3, the only folk on Scout Scar should be locals, preferably those who walk from home. So sharing the spirit of the day is also about community. On Christmas Day and New Year’s Day our greetings felt as if we willed ourselves into good cheer. ‘ Happy New Year’ is the traditional greeting. It raises the spirits to share goodwill but sometimes it feels forced. Today seemed different.
With the fells hidden in mist the focus was on the nearer view and detail of snow and ice. Walking south, I stopped to photograph a hawthorn glittering with sunlit ice-droplets, icicles gleamed and swags of snow slid off branches with a soft thud. I align the low winter sun through ice-droplets to see the colours of the rainbow as sunlight refracts through ice. Hawthorn twinkles in tiny white lights, sometimes coloured lights. From the shadow-side of a hawthorn, I looked up to see rising sunlit mist gleaming over the Lyth Valley and it was breath-taking. A runner on the escarpment edge heard my gasp of wonder and stopped to share the moment. An epiphany, caught in a spirit of reverence. He took photographs to send to a friend in city lockdown.
Through history, mankind has endured ages of pestilence and war. Civil wars in England, and the Great War of 1914-18 which concluded with a fearful pandemic. Somehow, in such times, we seek solace and communion with something greater than ourselves. Can’t always find it when we seek it, but sometimes it comes so powerfully that it seems, for a while, the only thing that is real. I remember coming across the Book of Hours of Anthony Woodville, brother of Edward IV's. queen who was grand mother of Henry VIII. In the midst of the turbulence of the Wars of the Roses he turned to beauty and meditation, commissioning this lovely book to be made.
With the fells hidden in mist the focus was on the nearer view and detail of snow and ice. Walking south, I stopped to photograph a hawthorn glittering with sunlit ice-droplets, icicles gleamed and swags of snow slid off branches with a soft thud. I align the low winter sun through ice-droplets to see the colours of the rainbow as sunlight refracts through ice. Hawthorn twinkles in tiny white lights, sometimes coloured lights. From the shadow-side of a hawthorn, I looked up to see rising sunlit mist gleaming over the Lyth Valley and it was breath-taking. A runner on the escarpment edge heard my gasp of wonder and stopped to share the moment. An epiphany, caught in a spirit of reverence. He took photographs to send to a friend in city lockdown.
Through history, mankind has endured ages of pestilence and war. Civil wars in England, and the Great War of 1914-18 which concluded with a fearful pandemic. Somehow, in such times, we seek solace and communion with something greater than ourselves. Can’t always find it when we seek it, but sometimes it comes so powerfully that it seems, for a while, the only thing that is real. I remember coming across the Book of Hours of Anthony Woodville, brother of Edward IV's. queen who was grand mother of Henry VIII. In the midst of the turbulence of the Wars of the Roses he turned to beauty and meditation, commissioning this lovely book to be made.
The above sequence are studies of icicles and snow-melt. At this time of year, when the sun is low in the sky, you may observe a phenomenon of light refracted - here in ice-droplets on hawthorn twigs. To see the effect, you need to align yourself with ice-droplet and look south toward the sun. The angle has to be precise to see the effect. It's magical.
Broadcast on Saturday 16 January 2021. Radio 4. SoundStage. The Oak Wood.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/b07cvhrz
Sound recordist Chris Watson spent a year focusing on North Wood, Holystone, Northumbria where he lives. He guides the listener through birdsong, through the seasons, through the transitions from dusk to daylight. His commentary is packed with information, focused, precise. In winter, I've often heard the calls of a mixed flock of fieldfare and redwing. He catches the song of redwing at the moment of their departure for their breeding grounds in Norway.
Broadcast on Saturday 16 January 2021. Radio 4. SoundStage. The Oak Wood.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/b07cvhrz
Sound recordist Chris Watson spent a year focusing on North Wood, Holystone, Northumbria where he lives. He guides the listener through birdsong, through the seasons, through the transitions from dusk to daylight. His commentary is packed with information, focused, precise. In winter, I've often heard the calls of a mixed flock of fieldfare and redwing. He catches the song of redwing at the moment of their departure for their breeding grounds in Norway.
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