I’ve only just got around to writing about this day back in January. It wasn’t snowing when we headed out to Haworth Moor. It was somewhat grey and and there was a stiff breeze, but altogether it had been a fairly pleasant day. My wife, daughter and I had headed out for a walk to blow away the cobwebs of the last year of lockdowns. To be honest, after the previous 9 months it was just good to get out. Period!
We headed to the Brontë waterfalls. Our daughter was really excited to be out and about in the world again and to be on a bit of an adventure. We got a little way into the walk, about 20 minutes or so when quite out of the blue it started piling it down with snow. It didn’t start slowly and get gradually worse (better). Nope, it just came down in bucket loads from the get go. Massive flakes of snow. My daughter was delighted. She hadn’t seen snow like this before. In fact we were all utterly thrilled that it had started snowing.
It wasn’t too long before it had got deep under foot and of course soon enough we began making huge snowballs and throwing them everywhere and at each other. Luckily we had dressed in warm clothes and good, sturdy walking boots, so we were well equipped to deal with the change in weather. We carried on with our walk for as long as possible, sticking to the paths and taking in the beautiful landscape. A landscape that had very quickly become white over. Sheep had begun to huddle in flocks around trees and some hid behind farm buildings to get some respite from the prevailing storm.
After a while we made the decision to turn around and head back to the car. We hadn’t got to our planned destination but it had been getting colder by the minute and the path had become quite treacherous. All of us nearly landed on our bums on more than one occasion.
I had taken my camera kit with me. I wanted to get some shots of this beautiful Brontë Moor on a crisp winters day. What I did get are this handful of delightful shots. A snowy winter wonderland in the heart of Brontë country. While I was there I imagined the Brontë sisters stomping across these same grounds in weather much like this back in their time, and how they might have stoked a large, warm fire once tucked away from the wilds of this rugged land.
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