![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_0372.jpg?resize=840%2C338)
As the Sun sets on another year – a pretty awful one for most people – at least I can flick through my photo diary and take comfort from the fact that the local Dales landscape and Nature have provided me with many high points.
I’m a lot more fortunate than millions of others. How lucky I am to live in a small village in the Yorkshire Dales and not trapped in a tiny flat in some high-rise city building. This part of Ribblesdale has just moved into tier 3 but I can still exercise locally and enjoy sights and sounds in some gorgeous countryside.
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_3328.jpg?resize=840%2C560)
I thought I’d use this end of year blog to post a selection of photos which I don’t think I’ve published either here or on other social media. The places will be familiar, though, as they are within a few miles of home – regular ports of call as I stroll and drive aimlessly around the dale.
![Ribblesdale](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_3043.jpg?resize=840%2C497)
My dodgy knees prevent me from tackling longer walks and more difficult ascents nowadays, but there’s still plenty of scenery for me and my camera to enjoy.
I started to make a list of some of my favourite things about living in upper Ribblesdale – it turned out to be a lot longer than my Christmas shopping list …
Wild flowers, the curlew calls;
high peaks and waterfalls.
Drystone walls, abandoned barns;
charming churches, ancient farms.
Skies threatening or clearest of blue;
sculptured clouds, changing hue.
Sunsets and sunrises, a golden glow;
trees tall or gnarled, bent like a bow.
Hedges and bushes with colourful berries;
hidden paths where no one hurries.
Birds with attitude, sweet songs they sing;
painted butterflies, bees on the wing.
Lambs playing in packs until dusk;
their mothers fretting while mowing the grass.
The river Ribble when slow and calming;
or rushing by, impatient, alarming.
Quirky hamlets asleep so it seems;
cottages huddle, crooked doors, curved beams.
Steam engines huffing, causing a fuss;
respectfully crossing that great colossus.
Autumnal tints the woodland bring;
buttercup meadows, welcoming spring.
Signposts and stiles, all sizes and shape;
walkers instructed to ‘Please Shut the Gate’.
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_2146.jpg?resize=840%2C488)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_0438.jpg?resize=840%2C560)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_1545.jpg?resize=840%2C540)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_0410.jpg?resize=840%2C431)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_0878.jpg?resize=840%2C560)
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_0431.jpg?resize=840%2C560)
I’ve just completed a first Christmas alone (which was actually fine, but it’s not the same without the warmth of a family around you). But I have plenty of photographic reminders of our festive past. I found this picture of my son taken around 25 years ago, dressed in his new Huddersfield Town shirt. I had to clear every bit of furniture to accommodate that train set. It might have been extremely early Christmas morning but I enjoyed playing as much as he did.
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/wilxmas.jpg?resize=840%2C543)
Have a better new year and thanks for reading the blog
![](https://i0.wp.com/www.jacksoneditorial.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/IMG_2157.jpg?resize=840%2C484)