Paying for safe passage

There is this ancient tradition. A pagan safe-guard.

Of paying for safe passage

 Paying for the water to stay clear and benign

Of paying for safe passage through the realm of the fairy queen

Of pressing coins into fallen trees or posts alongside moving water

as a tribute or as an appeasement

 In their thousands.

Fallen trees heavy with copper and nickel-plated steel

And strangely enough - people still pay

as did we

A strange, other-world place

a narrow almost claustrophobic valley

opening out to Janet (Jennet)'s Foss

the realm of queen of the fairies

As beautiful as it was, the cloying eeriness made me feel uneasy, it was a relief to rise out of the valley and climb across the dales up and away.

Heading for the Hills

Sunday was a crisp and cool autumnal morning. 

A few essential jobs to do before we are free to play out.

A quick visit to Settle town.

Then  on to the hills.

Over the Dales, with snowy topped hills all around

Had a smile at car sticker-humour

in the village of Langcliffe

We stopped by the river Ribble,

sitting the the sunshine

drinking tea

drinking in the view

And,

when we returned off the hills

the sun was disappearing behind the skyline.

Time to head back - the boys were hungry (mind you so were we!)

Today is Monday - another start to another week. hey ho... 

Hope you had a lovely weekend where ever you are xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx hawthorn

Over the hills and far away.

To clear heads and exercise legs, we took the boys for a walk a few days ago. We picked up Eldest's friend along the way and set off for the hills. There was a brisk breeze which slapped at our cheeks as we piled out of the car and layered our walking gear on. Giddy dog was excited, squeaking and pulling on her lead as we strode  along the lane to the gated access to the moorland.

We were the only ones out. Youngest and the friend chatted  incessantly about anything and everything related to boy-favoured subjects. Ranging from harpoons to ground to air missiles, from fireworks to fast cars and everything else in between. Eldest added a word or two but seemed content to allow his brother to monopolise his friend.

Despite a definite autumnal chill to the air and the waning warmth of the sun, grasshoppers sang their last songs of the summer. Eldest managed to catch one too busy singing to notice him stalking up. A quick photo, then it binging off his finger and disappeared into the grasslands.

We chanced upon this handsome fellow. He obligingly let me burrow my face into his neck and inhale deeply. I know there is always a risk when snorting sweaty horse scent that the sweaty horse in question will object and bite, but, it is a risk I am prepared to take. I guessed he was a Percheron and was probably  quite used to being petted as we were not too far from a horse trekking centre. The boys too thought he was beautiful and made plans how they could keep a horse in the back garden (yeah right) I suspect they don't realise that a horse this size would eat the entire contents of the garden in a day. (I was able to stand beneath the crook of his jaw bone without having to bend my neck....) 

The weather constantly changed from brooding rained filled clouds to light whispy clouds that filtered the sun, making it feel cooler. We found a sunny spot and hunkered down for lunch. The boys wolfed their food and cheerfully slurped their tea. Within moments of finishing, they were ready for more walking, while I, with tea half drunk and feet resting was quite comfortable and not quite prepared to yomp off just yet!

I love the relics of old time farming. The gentle rusting over years and years of abandonment adds to their charm. In the brief flashes of the sun, these degenerating lumps of retired metal glowed with a warm russet hue.

We came off the hills as the sun began to sink a bit low and the air definitely became chilly. Our walk took us through the village of Kettlewell. Today it gave off the air of quiet rural contentment but during summer it is heaving with walkers and tea-room hoggers. Day trippers clad in brightly coloured walking clothes that have only ever walked from the car to the shops fill the narrow streets. Gaudy tourist attracting clapper boards jostle for pavement space, all trying to entice the wallets inside. But, as we walked through, it was just us.

We reached the car as the sun sunk completely, leaving a brilliant orange glow. Three hungry boys, still nattering, muddy dog and a feeling of release. Himself and I exchanged a look and smiled. A good walk.

In the absence of a prosaic title - weekend walk....

Dearest Himself spent a very long and very mucky Saturday emptying all the soot and rubbish and dust and cobwebs that had accumulated over 150 years in our attic so that he could continue with the loft conversion. And he was totally fed up.

So, on Sunday we escaped and headed for the Dales for a lovely walk. (we did have a false start which involved going shopping for our picnic lunch and not having any way to pay for it and having to dash back home to get wallets..erhemm)

By the time we reached..........

 .........................it was lunch time and the 

the boys were faint with hunger (they did however make an awful amount of noise insisting that they were faint with hunger!)

We pulled up to the village pound - one of our favourite picnic spots - for lunch. Benches and a picnic table sit within the circular walls with a few native trees and the most stupendous view.  Having amended the lack of lunch for the boys with a picnic feast , we set off and had a most delicious afternoon autumnal walk.

the pound gate - the gateway to our picnic

 Top left - Settle village, top and middle right - locals.

Bottom left - make shift boardwalk and bottom right - limestone country

 Youngest and his favourite hat

Loving his shadow!

Eldest - away with his thoughts in wonderful surroundings

We returned through the village as dusk fell - ready to go home having had a cathartic walk. Bliss. And I managed to get some knitting down whilst out and about - double bliss :) Will show you shortly xx

Well, Monday seems to have returned with its usual speed. Hey ho - supposed it means one day nearer the next weekend :)

In the absence of the public, substitute with sheep

Long hours at work, once again, are eating into my crafting time. My head and heart are full of things to make but my hands are either at a keyboard or weighing out and counting tablets.

I am still managing to craft - albeit in smaller chunks than I would like...but that makes the 'making' only more precious. Snatched moments with yarn just before bedtime or in the car waiting for the boys to come out of school.

Last weekend we managed a walk out on my beloved dales. We re-trod a walk that had featured heavily in my mind all while my knee was out of action. I had an intense yearning to follow the path that lead us over stiles and through gates, across fields and alongside hills.  I even managed to get a little K.I.P-ing** when we stopped for our lunch.

As long as the breeze didn't get in on the action - the autumnal sun was delicious and I decided it was a good time to wear and share my latest shawlette.

I was, I have to admit, not that impressed with the colour way as I worked through. Two of my least favourite colours - yellow and pink - kept coming up and on occasion had the audacity to sit alongside each other. I was, like said, not impressed.

But, once blocked and wrapped around my neck, I fell in love. And my shawlette loved me back. *sigh*
Am knitting another.................

Am addicted.

Don't care.

And - coz I know you ask

Yarn:  Knitcol Trends 50gm (100% Lana Merino)
Pattern: The Age of Brass and Steam
Love?: Oh yes
Do again? (and again and again and again!)

**K.I.P-ing = Knitting In Public and in the absence of 'Public' substitute with sheep.