Swaledale and the Eden Valley

Ann and Theo

 It is grandson Theo's birthday. With distant separation we see him rarely, but had several good days together in the summer at Lucy and Andy's cottage above Gunnerside (The End of a Great Holiday). Looking at that photo now brings back thoughts of that good time in Swaledale, and when we met at our rented house in Eden Valley below Kirkby Stephen. 

The owner thoughtfully sent me a book called The Shepherd's Life by James Rebanks, a wonderful, well-written account of managing the fell sheep and the land in which they exist by someone who spends his whole life there. To read at first hand of the harshness of deep winter snows and the duress of gathering sheep for winter feeds of hay, while recording the losses each year of favourite breeding stock that don't survive the winter, is an eye-opener and counterweight to the idyllic summer skies we were under. The fells are a beautiful landscape, but it is tough when the deep snow drifts block roads and doors. In Hundon in Suffolk, we have had but a handful of days when ice or flooding imprisoned us; but on the high moors, every winter brings entrapment when snow ploughs give priority to motorways and towns, and only tractors can get through on the high, narrow country lanes. Lying between the Cumbrian Mountains and the northern part of the Pennine Range, The Eden Valley is at the western-most end of Swaledale, criss-crossed with tiny, steep roads. We have hopes for a return visit in the New Year to witness the different winter scene, but will need a glowing, warm house to stay in and to stock up well with contingency food. 

Our gardening contacts have come to cut back the trees and clear out unwanted growth against our neighbour's garage, behind the oil tank where I cannot reach. Henry and Harry are young men, each with regular week jobs but keen to build a successful business, who always do a reliable job. Above the roof of the garage, Henry reports a hole in the tiled roof above the art studio, about an inch in diameter, though none of us can imagine how such a hole could have got there. When they leave, but I mount the ladder to fill it with glassfibre sheet and epoxy resin. These are still in the garage from our boating days, and have an expiry date of 2011, but they still seem sound and mix to the old familiar bonding paste. I will know if it is successful if I don't get a douche next time I'm painting.