A Dales village in winter

I had a mooch around Kettlewell in the rain and hail. The Dales villages have a very different character in winter than in summer. There are few, if any, tourists (though the conference and retreat centre at Scargill House does bring visitors to Kettlewell). There isn't the summer buzz but the quiet has its own charm.

Kettlewell still has a traditional red telephone box (probably quite necessary, as cellphone coverage is very patchy) and it adds a touch of brightness to the centre of the village. The photos above and below show the views along Kettlewell Beck, up and down stream, as it flows down to join the River Wharfe.

At the top of the village, the old maypole sits in a little garden and the road leads up to St Mary's church, which is set back on the right.

Kettlewell Beck was fast-flowing but not overfull or doing anything nasty.

It was dull enough to take a few slow-shutter speed photos of the churning water, even without a filter.

Wintry scenes

I thought when I booked it many months ago that it was either mad or inspired to take a break in mid-February in Kettlewell, up in the Dales. In the end it turned out to be a bit of both. I was staying at Scargill House on a Christian study break, which proved to be a wonderful and thought-provoking experience. The house itself is welcoming, comfortable and cosy. Some of the lounges have huge windows, from which you can watch, in comfort, the weather as it sweeps down the dale.

I took these photos within a minute or so of each other, looking from the main house down the drive. Sandwiched between the weekend storms Ciara and Dennis, the skies were unpredictable and dramatic, jumping from calm to gusty, with bursts of excoriating hail (and snow on the tops) and the occasional breath-taking shaft of sunlight slicing through. Great weather for photos and I did manage a few lovely - if muddy - walks.

Puddle

A puddle... one of many currently around the village. Some are more scenic than others.

More snow! and a milestone

More snow! We had another flurry of quite heavy snow late last week. It didn't last long but it came just at the time people were trying to get to work and school one morning and so it proved hugely disruptive all across this region. I was shocked to wake up to this view from my bedroom window, but at the same time very pleased to know that I didn't have to go out at all.  Loving this retirement phase of life  :)

I wasn't going to bother to post this photo but since then (and thankfully after the snow went) I've been at my daughter's, caring for the older of my two granddaughters, who finally and feverishly succumbed to the nasty flu-type bug they've all had. She's getting better now, thankfully, but it's rare that children have a fever for six days running, in my experience. Anyway, I hope that my family will get back to normal now that they have all had and recovered from the virus in turn. So far, I don't appear to have contracted it and I'm hoping I don't, despite several exposures to it. We grandmas rock!

I keep thinking winter must be over and I'll be able to get out and take some more springlike shots. I'm running very short of pictures. But no... we now have a forecast for more snowfall over this weekend. Sigh...

I have just noticed that I have now passed the '3000 blog posts' point. This is number 3005. Who'd have thought, way back in 2009 when I started, that I'd still be blogging some nine years later? Certainly not me. I had no idea that I'd find it such fun and such an absorbing hobby. Many thanks to all my blog friends, especially to all my long-term readers.

Salts Mill in't snow

Salts Mill's classic 'between the mills' view takes on a slightly different tone when there's snow, as there is rather more light reflected up onto the stonework. (Salts Mill itself is on the left and the New Mill on the right.) The canal wasn't frozen along this little stretch, as it is sheltered by the buildings and must be a degree or two warmer. I was waiting for someone in a red jacket to walk along the towpath, but no-one came!

Somehow the snow on the car park emphasises the huge bulk of Salts Mill itself, seen from the east.

Snow day

Some schools have had 'snow days', choosing to close because they are worried about the safety of children and staff travelling to and from school. I'll swear we never had 'snow days' when I was a child. I distinctly recall our steeply sloping primary school playground being lethal with ice and the braver kids sliding down. (They wouldn't allow that these days either.) And standing in the freezing cold snow waiting for a bus outside school. A friend told me her two older boys were off school but the youngest child is still having to go, as he attends a smaller local school that he can walk to. Not a happy bunny...!

There were a few local children enjoying some sledging on the hillside just above Saltaire. Those light plastic sledges certainly zip along. The main roads have been gritted and were fairly clear by the time I ventured out, but all the side roads are snowed over and quite icy, as you can see from the photo below. Some hopeful person has put their bin out for collection - but all the refuse collectors are on gritter duty.

The Beast from the East

We're having a 'weather event' this week, much hyped in the preceding days and popularly dubbed 'the Beast from the East'. A 'disrupted polar vortex in the upper atmosphere' means that cold air is being funnelled down over Britain from Siberia, bringing snow, wind and freezing temperatures, around -5C and colder with the windchill. In this area it's not, I gather, as bad as further east, but there has been enough snow already to cause disruption to travel and more is forecast. It's not our usual type of snow (!), being dry and powdery. It doesn't stick together like the wetter stuff usually does. Good for sledging (even skiing) but frustrating for building snowmen.

I went for a short walk in a brief sunny spell but it really is cold. Luckily, I got back home before the next blizzard arrived. The canal is frozen over, apart from where it is close to buildings. The 18th century cottages at Jane Hills, once homes for canal boatmen, looked picturesque with their covering of snow.

Winter etchings

We've had intermittent snow showers during the last week. Some days have been worse than others and some locations have had more than others, even within quite a small geographical area. It's either been falling as tiny, hard, sleety lumps or big, soft, wet flakes. In both cases, it has often barely settled before melting. When there has been a white covering for a while, it has soon disappeared.

I like the way snow renders everything in monochrome. Pictures look like etchings. These two very different photographs were taken back in January.

Fog, rain, sleet

Fog, rain, sleet, wind - oh, what dreary weather we're having. I know it's winter but I much prefer the type of winter where we get dry, crisp, sunny days. It's been much colder overall here this winter, than last, but I don't mind that. (I always find it's easier to get warm when you're cold than cool when you're too hot! So our northerly climate suits me well, actually.) But I do mind the damp and dull days, when you really can't get out for a good walk. This was what it looked like driving back from my daughter's the other day. The views over towards Haworth were obscured by the drizzly mist and I had to dodge huge puddles and sheets of water sluicing across the moorland road. I got home safely... and that's the nicest bit: getting home, pulling up a chair by the fire and having a mug of hot tea to warm me through again. Aahhh....

Winter garden detail

From magnificent and elegant winter tree 'skeletons' to tiny snowdrops, Harlow Carr Gardens is a feast of beauty in the detail as well as in the wider views. 

Different cultivars of Cornus (dogwood) have stems that really glow when the sun catches them.

I'm not sure what the grass (below) was. It looked fairly dull and uninteresting seen from the side that the sun was illuminating, but viewed against the light it took on a magical, shimmery, silvery, ethereal look; very pretty, trembling in the slight breeze.

Harlow Carr Gardens

A rare sunny but very cold day had me leaping in the car and making for Harlow Carr Gardens near Harrogate.  I know it's a good place for a non-muddy walk (I'm so sick of cleaning mud off my boots!) and there is always something new to see. I only joined the RHS (Royal Horticultural Society) last summer, and I'm not sure I've ever visited in January before. The gardens still look beautiful, even though much of the planting is dormant.

Winter wonderland

All these photos were taken within a mile of so of Saltaire, exploring the towpath of the Leeds-Liverpool Canal and then crossing the river on to the carriage drive that served the great house at Milner Field, where Titus Salt Junior lived. The house is long since demolished but everywhere there is evidence of the grand estate that surrounded it.

Down in the park

Roberts Park looked really beautiful in the snow. There were a few little children sledging on the gentle slope behind the bandstand, though there was barely enough snow to facilitate it. The newly repainted bandstand made a wonderful splash of red, set off beautifully by the snowy ground.

Sir Titus himself was shivering a little. Oddly enough, at the moment I took this photo, it was almost exactly 141 years since the great man breathed his last. He is recorded to have died at 12.40 on the afternoon of 29 December 1876, aged 73. He had been in poor health for some time and a trip to the sea air in Scarborough, in the hope of aiding his recovery, saw no improvement. He returned to his home in Halifax. By 17 December he was declining rapidly; telegraphs were sent to his children advising them to come at once but he lingered over Christmas. His death was widely mourned and at his funeral an estimated 100,000 people lined the streets to pay their respects as the procession passed.  His body is interred in the family mausoleum attached to Saltaire's church.

Snowy Saltaire

More snow photos... but no apologies. It's not every year that we get so much down here in the bottom of the valley, though it didn't last more than half a day before it melted in the rain. So pretty though, and it completely transforms the familiar views around the village. Above is Albert Terrace, the cobbled street, brightened and lightened by the snow.

The corner of Amelia Street, where it joins Albert Terrace, has an even more timeless air in this weather. Amelia was Sir Titus Salt's eldest daughter, who acted as his personal secretary until she married in 1873.  

The lion statues all had a little covering of snow, making them stand out against the backdrop. The building above is the old school, now part of Shipley College.

Salts Mill in the snow

Two different views of Salts Mill's classic south frontage.
The view in the photo above is usually obscured by trees and you can rarely get a decent photo out of it but in winter you get a better idea of the sheer length of the building. That's my neighbours' allotment in the foreground, snoozing under its white blanket.
I've photographed the view below so many times in all weathers and lighting conditions. I like the way the snow lightens up the scene - and I love those red rosebuds, just hanging on despite the weather.

What a difference

As I noted a few days ago, I often seem to photograph (and post) a picture of Saltaire's church in the week between Christmas and New Year. But what a difference a few days makes, when the weather changes suddenly. From Saturday's golden light (HERE) to an altogether cooler scene, with everything under a covering of snow. I don't prefer one over the other... I'm just glad to live in this temperate climate, where you never quite know from one week to the next what the days will be like. It can be infuriating, especially if you're trying to plan an outing, but it's full of delights too.

The Snowman and the Snowdog.

Some children built the most characterful snowman and a snow dog in the local playground, inspired perhaps by the Raymond Briggs book. They obviously had a few brussels sprouts left over from their Christmas dinner and put them to good use! I'm glad to have captured this little work of art for posterity. Sadly it didn't last long in actuality.

Snowy tree

Happy New Year! It's 2018!

We unexpectedly had a bit more snow last Friday, just a couple of days before the New Year.  There was a light covering when I woke up and it continued to snow heavily for about three hours. Less than an inch fell altogether, but it was enough to change the familiar world - and I love that. As soon as the blizzard eased off a little bit, I got togged up with warm clothes and good boots and went for a wander round Saltaire with my camera. It's a delight to see the way a little snow transforms everything, truly a winter wonderland. I came back with quite a lot of photos that I was pleased with. This one, of a tree reflected in the river near Hirst Weir, has to be one of my favourite pictures of the whole year.

By mid-afternoon, the snow had turned to rain and by bedtime little remained save the lumps where people had made snowmen. It felt a bit like I'd dreamed it all. But I have the photos to prove it - and, like it or not, you will see some of them in the next few days!

Wide open spaces

Another moorland shot, taken when there was just a light dusting of snow. The journey between my home and my daughter's is a dangerous drive: narrow roads, steep hills, lots of twisty bends and a long, isolated section across the high moorland plateau. There was yet another car wrecked and lodged at a nasty angle in the ditch as I passed, a reminder to drive slowly and carefully and to watch out for ice and water on the road. The beauty, however, makes it worth it and there are a few places where you can pull off the road and safely enjoy the views.

Cool beauty

Just on the edge of the busy little town centre of Hebden Bridge is a far more tranquil scene. It was a very cold day and the towpath was icy but I thought the muted, misty colours were very pleasing. This is the Rochdale Canal, at one time an important waterway for transporting raw goods and textiles to and from the cotton mills in the Calder valley.