The Quiet Paths

Helmshore – July

It’s been a lovely few weeks.

Our beautiful new kitchen table arrived, and we’ve already had friends around to celebrate. Drinks and nibbles in the garden, good wine, even better conversation, and plenty of planning for our forthcoming campervan trip to Abersoch (more on that in another post!).

Pepper and I have spent much of the month wandering the valley. One Sunday, what began as a gentle potter around the reservoir somehow turned into an all-day ramble. We followed the old tramway to the abandoned quarry, the source of Haslingden Flagstone, whose distinctive stone now graces St Paul’s Cathedral in London.

After a welcome cooling dip in the quarry pond for Pepper (not me!), we climbed onto the open moor, passing the ruined farmhouse I affectionately call Wuthering Heights, before descending through the peaceful Musbury Valley.

Along the way we watched kestrels hovering over the rough grassland, stonechats darting between the gorse, and plenty of roe deer slipping quietly into the bracken as we approached.

The end of July has brought some very welcome rain. After weeks of heat, the valley seems to be breathing again. Brooks are bubbling once more, the hillsides are beginning to soften into shades of green, and the whole landscape feels quietly grateful.

The warm weather has also hurried along nature’s pantry. Wild raspberries are ripening beside the paths, and I’ve happily been helping myself as I wander. The blackberries are just beginning to colour, promising crumbles and pies as summer edges towards autumn, while the first wild plums have appeared on one of my favourite foraging trees. Hidden from casual view, they’re a secret reward for anyone prepared to slow down and really look.

The summer birds have fledged now and are finding their own way in the world. A young buzzard calls pitifully during my morning walks, while its parents perch motionless in nearby trees, seemingly hoping their demanding youngster might eventually discover a little independence. It always makes me smile.

I think midsummer may be my favourite time of year. I love the soft golden light of early mornings, the richness of colour across the valley, and those long, lazy evenings when there is nothing to do but sit quietly as the birds provide the soundtrack to another day drawing to a close.

Recently, I received the sad news that a dear friend had passed away. Sue and I shared many laughs, adventures and wonderful wanders over the years, particularly on our annual trips to Scotland with friends. Spending time outdoors has a way of reminding us that every season is precious, and every walk we share with those we love becomes part of the landscape of our memories.

So this month’s post is for Sue.

Here’s to friendship, to happy memories, and to the quiet paths we were lucky enough to walk together.