Snowy church

 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.

Tears for a fish

 Escaping the freezing hail we ran into the conservatory at Buxton's Pavilion Gardens and had a warm by the palms and the bright Victorian bedding plants. Scarlet flashes of festive Poinsettias clashed against yellow chrysanthemums and we watched a man for a while dunking watering cans into the fish pond to water the plants with. Meanwhile Joy to the World was playing in the band stand and all was well.

But then I spotted the poem of Boris the fish, a Buxton legend and I then left dabbing my eyes with a tissue. Poor little fish, I'm glad he got to live his final days in such nice surroundings. Bless his little upside down fighting spirit. 

Buxton Winter celebration

 Down in Pavilion Gardens Buxton, was a light extravaganza, aliens had landed and the unearthly sounds of extra terrestrials lurking around every shrub and frost hollow was an eerie accompaniment to our winter's walk. A quick blast of freezing hail had us running for cover but then the drum beat started and we couldn't help but follow. A bright lantern trail of colourful characters led by Creeping Toad, the Ice King and the Snow Queen appeared from over the bridge and the lit procession weaved its melodious way around the park past the Peak Paddlers all lit up like Christmas trees on the chilly lake. Wallflower Dance performed with umbrellas aglow and with the lanterns by Buxton Sparkles it was all just unbelievably beautiful and creative.

Back at the band stand, the music started playing traditional carols and the town's lights were switched on. A Grand Bazaar sold gifts and there was food and drink aplenty. 

We had a quick walk around the town, past the Opera House and the creepy silhouetted windows of The Crescent. Whilst the building is under development, over the winter holiday period the Glow project will illuminate the windows with silhouettes from archived images. 
   The pictures just don't do it justice so do watch the video as it will put you in a nice festive mood. A new tradition now, Buxton's Winter celebration will be in my calendar every year for a most creative and unique show.

The gardens of Haddon Hall, Derbyshire

 A meet up with the 'history gang' at Haddon Hall in Derbyshire which is a restored medieval manor house and after the guided tour we explored the gardens. Through iron gates and rambling roses to views across the rolling landscape with pretty bridges over the wiggly River Wye.   Along terraces and up and down steps we went and how beautifully the gardens blend in with the surrounding landscape of the Peak District. We were told that the romantic bridge was often used as a filming location. The Hall itself has been used in many a production and it was easy to see why but more on that another time.  Trees dripped in scarlet berries, clipped yews lined pathways, areas to sit presented themselves and still a wonderful array of flowers nodded and whispered as we brushed past. The walls seemed Labyrinth like. I expected a blue worm to pop up and say 'Ello'

Frothy steps of pink and white with a little sadness in the air. We stood and listened to the tale of poor Prince Arthur who had rested on the banks of the River Wye and seen a vision of his own death which would of course make his brother become heir to the throne - the future King Henry VIII

If she'd 'ave kept on goin' down that way she'd 'ave gone straight to that castle. ....