Snow on the Lake District Fells The mist was stubborn. But sun gleamed off snow on the distant fells as I crested the Scout Scar escarpment. Mist lingered in the Lyth Valley, volatile mist which gathered and dispersed all morning. The fells were hidden until a sliver of dark summit rose above the mist. After mid-day the sun began to shrug off cloud and the snow-capped fells floated above the mist and clouds hugged the tops. We could not tell cloud from mountain. Cloud, that wondrous fusion of the elements that played before our eyes on this January day. Cloud is mountain, mountain is cloud.
The first snow of winter is always magical and this morning I was conjured into being, like magic. I was gazing out upon the snow-capped fells from Scout Scar escarpment when I heard my name invoked and up I popped, to Anna's surprise. She's my publisher and she and her husband had chosen this marvellous morning to come here, I think for the first time. She was telling strangers I was the one to read for Scout Scar. What a coincidence!
Chance did well today. Here came another couple who greeted me cheerily. Jackie is accredited in Cumbrian Contrasts for telling me of a 1906 midsummer's day school outing to Scout Scar.
'This mist is spoiling the view,' a stranger smiled a greeting.
I think mist is inspirational. Mist is the mystery and the magic. Anna and I agreed that it was not the light for photographers but to witness it was breath-taking. What you see isn't always quite what you get from the camera.
The weather-forecast was accurate for timing. The sun did not work its magic until after mid-day. Being there mid- morning, I waited and watched all the subtle changes in the cloudscape, the coming of icy blue.
This was a day to bring forth walkers, so what was everyone talking about? The marvellous beauty of the fells, Thank Heaven. Two women talked shopping. And Brexit, inevitably. If only the sun would dispel the murk of Brexit!
Cloud is mountain, mountain is cloud: they conspire as weather-systems work their magic. A dictionary will confirm cloud is also crag and hill. To conspire is to whisper together, so close your breaths mingle- to create an atmosphere between you. Watch that happening as snow, ice, sunlight and cloud conspire over the fells. A conspiracy of cloud.
Chance did well today. Here came another couple who greeted me cheerily. Jackie is accredited in Cumbrian Contrasts for telling me of a 1906 midsummer's day school outing to Scout Scar.
'This mist is spoiling the view,' a stranger smiled a greeting.
I think mist is inspirational. Mist is the mystery and the magic. Anna and I agreed that it was not the light for photographers but to witness it was breath-taking. What you see isn't always quite what you get from the camera.
The weather-forecast was accurate for timing. The sun did not work its magic until after mid-day. Being there mid- morning, I waited and watched all the subtle changes in the cloudscape, the coming of icy blue.
This was a day to bring forth walkers, so what was everyone talking about? The marvellous beauty of the fells, Thank Heaven. Two women talked shopping. And Brexit, inevitably. If only the sun would dispel the murk of Brexit!
Cloud is mountain, mountain is cloud: they conspire as weather-systems work their magic. A dictionary will confirm cloud is also crag and hill. To conspire is to whisper together, so close your breaths mingle- to create an atmosphere between you. Watch that happening as snow, ice, sunlight and cloud conspire over the fells. A conspiracy of cloud.
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