A nithering northerly nibbled at my ears while I was out and about in the Dales at the weekend. The snow still lingers over the 2,000ft mark and some of the larger drifts which had accumulated against the higher walls were yet to be captured by the sun. The ground here is like concrete and the dales farmers are busy ensuring their sheep have enough to see them through what so far has been a very hard winter compared with those of recent years. Trying my best to sound positive to my farmer neighbour I commented that at least the price being paid for wool seems to have gone up a little recently. “Aye, but he’ll still not buy me half a bitter,” interrupted his son as they continued to unload the feed. I left them chuntering at each other… I’m sure farmers are never happy unless they’re moaning about something.
Photo taken at the weekend shows a farm in Ribblesdale beneath Penyghent