Pleasant weather today, which was probably a good thing bearing in mind my need to reacclimatise. The Hebden Water was spilling rather gently over its weir near the centre of town. This is the usual heron-spotting location, but there were none here today.
This shot is taken a few hundred yards down the canal from the one captured on Friday, and as is very clear, there’s been a considerable thaw in the meantime. But there remain remnants of ice on the water, sublimating these tendrils into the far warmer air.
Six shots in a row in Hebden Bridge, and eight of the last nine. There’ll be variety tomorrow though.
High pressure and warm air idling up from Spain, apparently, made this surely the warmest and most pleasant November 12th in my lifetime — even on St Helena last year it was not as nice as this. I refuse to consider this a bad thing: not on the day, at least. I’m sure the ducks think it’s better than the alternative as well.
The media would like us to think that all is heading for some kind of climate-related disaster, but personally I’m quite enjoying the decent weather this summer, which seems to have extended out to Northern Ireland, at least this week. And she is having a good time in it too.
How decadent, a glass of wine on a train on Sunday lunchtime. (And a bottle of water that may or may not originate from a spa town in North Yorkshire.) I like the refraction in the glass that is in turn reflected in my phone on the table.
Even the recent run of storms has not blown off this little clump of last year’s leaves. Today, on the other hand, was a first real inkling of spring sunshine and relative warmth. I already know it doesn’t last, though. But there’ll be more, eventually.
And still it rains, seemingly without end. The water race at the end of the old millpond in the woods is only rarely filled, and when it is it’s a sign we are once again in the ‘cross fingers and hope’ approach to flood defence. But the town stayed above water — today at least.
Plenty of rain over the last few days has swelled Yorkshire’s rivers, including the Wharfe: and high winds last night and today presumably have brought this big chunk of tree down into it somewhere upstream of the weir at Wetherby, which is where this picture is taken. For now, it waits here… doubtless to continue its journey toward the sea once the next swell takes it over the lip.
Piles of frog spawn filled various random bits of water (such as, literally, roadside puddles) on my walk yesterday and an equally huge pile filled the ornamental pond in my in-laws’ garden this morning. Now you’ve seen the size of a frog, right? These rafts of spawn were two feet wide. There must have been mass spawn-laying orgies taking place on Friday night. Wouldn’t we all like to be invited to such parties.
A beautiful, sunny day today, a welcome change from the grey crud we have otherwise had for some weeks (it feels like that anyway). To distract from the prevalent Christmas theme, here’s a curlew walking on the sands at high tide. I like this shot not only for the bird itself but the strange bubbles all around it, probably caused by some kind of marine life only infrequently covered by water; most of the time this bit of the world will be sand.
Being 42 