Twilight softly descending on a snowy landscape and finding a church equals an instant solemn atmosphere. A silent place made all the more still and whispering by the blanket of snow. Heaped against tombstones and cloaking angels against the chill, making pathways through tree arched holloways that seemed a shame to disturb with my footprints. How those stark branches reached both for me and the tops of memorials, a scene of contrasts - all of us black ink on crisp white paper.
Christ Church, Burbage up near Buxton and certainly no stranger to a cold blast during the winter and early spring. A Victorian build and one I'll be back to in August for their Clypping Ceremony custom where the congregation link hands around the church. The village of Burbage has a brass band that regularly plays here and it looks to be a friendly place with great community spirit. The snowy view and the feeling of solitude is a beautiful feeling. A canvas for deep thoughts and to feel as spirited as the eddying snowflakes.