The tree stands alone,a haunting symbol of a desolate moor,but once seen in glorious sun and glistening snow it gains a host of spellbound friends.
So,somebody has been here before.Somebody who had decided it was a good place to live and Ican see why,I wonder who they were.They battled against the elemental powers,until eventually they lost.I stand and wonder why?
Soft morning light and a mist wrapped mountain.Is this the start of a perfect day?
The moor calls out 'Beware,ice and water,mud and bogs are my trade,tread carefully,I belong to no man.' The traveller standing quietly,understands.
Wind blown contours emerge as patterns on the ice covered,scaleless mountains.
Shooing the herd into the forest,he stood looking at us,waiting patiently to become immortalised.
First light was foreboding,dark clouds hung in the sky.Then suddenly a ray of sunshine gave the first glimmer of hope.I stood watching as the rays filled the horizon and my soul.
Dwarfed by mountains,at the mercy of their elements,the cottage stands in perfect picture postcard isolation.
