We woke to a power-cut. No laundry this morning! No computer either. What on earth to do with all that unexpected free time? So I headed off to Hardcastle Crags to photograph bluebells. Forget the Serengeti and the Galápagos Islands: at bluebell time, the UK is second to none when it comes to natural spectacles.
As Jen and I rounded Nook Corner on our evening walk, my heart skipped a beat as I imagined I half-heard the distant arcade-game call of a lapwing. I spun round and looked back to see one flying away over the brow of the hill.
So, there are lapwings around after all. But I should have seen far more by now. It’s all very worrying.
“…wonderfully droll, witty and entertaining… At their best Carter’s moorland walks and his meandering intellectual talk are part of a single, deeply coherent enterprise: a restless inquiry into the meaning of place and the nature of self.”
—Mark Cocker, author and naturalist
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