The Yorkshire dales are not even a 20 minute drive from Mums house and they are a stunning national park that runs through the backbone of England straddling the Pennines. Every time I go here my sole (ur...i mean soul) is satiated. The fields are veined with old dry stone rock walls (not a lick of cement used) and aged farm storage houses. Rivers cut through the bottom of the valleys and there are old trees, aincient ruins and myriads of wild flowers that bring splashes of colour & personality to this green & pleasant land.
Can you see my satiated soul?!
I say 'mint sauce' my bro says "The dales; where men are men and sheep are nervous"!
As a kid after a big Sunday lunch of roast beef, yorkshire pudding, gravy, roast potatoes, mashed carrots and of course home made apple pie & custard……we all needed to walk off the gluttony. Dad would drive us all out to the moors to ‘blow off the cob webs” & we’d walk ankle deep in bracken and heather until we were done. The dales pull strongly at me to walk, explore and get lost in its beauty and tranquility.
Today instead (after only two halves of black sheep lager) I drove my Mum's teeny tiny little car into a teeny tiny little excuse for a wall and caused a teeny weeny little scratch. A momento for her (as it were) of my visit!