We've just returned from a week in the Dales having a catch-up with friends before closing our bolt hole down for the winter, turning off the electricity and draining down the system so that we don't have to worry unduly about any storm damage. Our property borders a beck.
In the summer we open the sitting room windows and listen to the sound of the water as it falls over a small outcrop of stones.
But there was no need to open windows on this trip, the water was roaring down!
There's a small waterfall further upstream,
swollen to more than twice it's usual size.
Everywhere was dripping wet.
Water was thundering under the bridge at Aysgarth. We didn't stop to walk along the river side and look at the falls because it was treacherous underfoot.
It kindly stopped raining for one short morning during our week away, giving me the chance to plant some tulip bulbs in the front garden.
I live with Himself (husband) in a former gamekeeper's cottage in the South-West of England.
All text and photographs on this blog are
copyright and property of Rosemary Murphy unless otherwise stated.
I have three blogs;
Share my garden,
My life in one hundred objects and
The 'Himself' blog consists of short stories and artwork, copyright of Peter Murphy.