Blacka Moor,Derbyshire You wake to a clear sky and the air filtering through the open bedroom window is sharp and freshLate summer is flat in north Derbyshire; the light is harsh and the moors a drab monochrome. The air is heavy; lay your hand on a slab of gritstone and it comes away moist. The woods are deep in shade, the herbaceous plants gone to seed, and tall stalks of foxgloves nodding towards the ground. Then,blessed morning, you wake to a clear sky and the air filtering through the open bedroom window is sharp and fresh, and from the north,promising the “penalty of Adam”, the season’s change.nowadays was that day, or I celebrated by visiting one of the richer corners of moorland hereabouts. Swallows were gathering in bright sunshine on telephone wires at the base of the hill,sending their clicks down the line, and a late brood of grand tits was mobbing through the birch as I climbed. Where the trees gave way to heather, and the berries of the rowans had,in the space of hours it seemed, turned blood orange, or an auspicious tree advance to fruition; you can make a tart,smoky jelly from rowan berries, mixed with apples, or that is righteous with venison,or, for vegetarians, and a crumbly,soft cheese like Wensleydale.
Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com