Go wild in the country 🌹
Burnley / Cliviger area
On the way back home from Burnley to Stacksteads.
We’d been to Towneley park with Patches.
Cliviger is a small village, though apparently Cliviger as an area is bigger than Burnley; Cliviger is a red rose village situated between Burnley and the Yorkshire town of Todmorden.
In the foreground is a random stone wall built with a sand / cement mortar. My favourite type of wall to build. I love them. Days fly by when you’re building these.
On the Pennines
Lancashire
A DREAM PANG
Robert Frost
I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.
Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide.
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.
Go wild in the country 🌹
Burnley / Cliviger area
On the way back home from Burnley to Stacksteads.
We’d been to Towneley park with Patches.
Cliviger is a small village, though apparently Cliviger as an area is bigger than Burnley; Cliviger is a red rose village situated between Burnley and the Yorkshire town of Todmorden.
In the foreground is a random stone wall built with a sand / cement mortar. My favourite type of wall to build. I love them. Days fly by when you’re building these.
On the Pennines
Lancashire
A DREAM PANG
Robert Frost
I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.
Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide.
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.