“May was upon them and the breeze almost mild. The panoply of mountains stood tranquil, pale and snow-capped in the distance. Striding Edge, Bowfell, Crinkle Crags and Harter Fell, while all around the cottage, spears of green daffodils were bursting into golden bloom. Deep in Brockbarrow Wood a cuckoo called, expressing content with its lot, as Beth could not. She’d taken her time this morning, walking round by Whinstone Force to sit for a while and watch the plunging waters fall into the ghyll... below, enjoying the ice cold spray on her face. She cupped her hand, scooping and drinking from the crystal cold water. It tasted wonderfully fresh and tingling. She paused to speak to Pegleg, still in lone residence at the tarn, then crossed the open fell to Larkrigg. She intended to collect her personal belongings, a task she’d postponed long enough. She walked up the long drive by the Gemini Stones and thought again how true the legend had proved to be, then smothered the thought in the more practical one of how they never had got around to pruning these old trees.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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