Kirkstone Beck

… looking towards Place Fell

It was by sheer good luck rather than design that I ended up here, sitting on this bridge, drinking my hot tea in dazzling, sparklingly bright sunlight under an unbroken blue sky, completely alone and in complete silence apart from the sounds of nature, which is a rare treat here because the road over Kirkstone Pass is closed. 

The overnight snow had quickly thawed at home and so after making some nettle and wild garlic soup it looked okay to venture out. With the road closed it meant things were very quiet at this end of the lake but luckily another walker had been out ahead of me so I was able to walk in those footsteps otherwise I’d have been up to my knees every step of the way.

Such a spot of time … it’s a relief to be off work for a bit and leave the world behind if only briefly, although I couldn’t help but look at all this with the backdrop of Koyaanisqatsi in my mind.

You may want to look away now to avoid the WW fest …

There are in our existence spots of time,
That with distinct pre-eminence retain
A renovating virtue, whence--depressed  
By false opinion and contentious thought,
Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight,
In trivial occupations, and the round
Of ordinary intercourse--our minds
Are nourished and invisibly repaired;
A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced,
That penetrates, enables us to mount,
When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.

Extract from The Prelude - William Wordsworth 



… and an extract from Wordsworth's Leechgatherer (Resolution & Independence)

At length, himself unsettling, he the Pond
Stirred with his Staff, and fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he conned,
As if he had been reading in a book:
And now a stranger's privilege I took;
And, drawing to his side, to him did say,
"This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."

A gentle answer did the Old-man make,
In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew:
And him with further words I thus bespake,
"What occupation do you there pursue?
This is a lonesome place for one like you."
He answered, while a flash of mild surprise
Broke from the sable orbs of his yet vivid eyes.

His words came feebly, from a feeble chest,
But each in solemn order followed each,
With something of a lofty utterance drest - 
Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave livers do in Scotland use,
Religious men, who give to God and Man their dues.

He told, that to these waters he had come
To gather Leeches, being old and poor:
Employment hazardous and wearisome!
And he had many hardships to endure;
From pond to pond he roamed, form moor to moor;
Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance;
And in this way he gained and honest maintenance.

The Old-man still stood talking by my side;
But now his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide;
And the whole Body of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a dream;
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.

My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;
And hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
- Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
"How is it that you live, and what is it you do?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OacVy8_nJi0