“Hawthorn is the tree of May, of Beltane, and of new life…It is the tree of choice for fairy folk, and a single thorn standing alone upon a hill or near an ancient burial mound is never just a tree… it is a landmark between the visible and invisible worlds”
“Saddle Tor rises in cold, dark dignity beside its twin-crested neighbor, catching the first golden rays of sunrise, while the deep combes of the Becka Brook still lie, enveloped in shadow”
Sharp Tor wreathed in autumn colours, shot from Venford Brook - 19th October, 16:25, 55mm, f/16, ISO 100
“ Dartmoor has always been a source of great joy, comfort and soulfulness to me. I delight in the changing moods of the moor, from those wonderful days of sunshine to the glowering fogs, and the shifting scenery from the wooded valleys to the wide open moorland”
“And when the deep and ruthless winter capped the cloud- wreathed tor with snow, and the loud highland tempest howls, he heard and shudder’s yet a desperate race, men of all climes - attached to none, were here”
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
“There’s not a cloud a sailing by, that does not not hold a shower;
"The situation is warm and sheltered, and the ground is cultivated. The road descends to the Wallabrook, which it crosses to Babney. Thence a track leads down the Wallabrook to its junction with the Dart, where is disclosed what I hold to be one of the finest, if not the finest views on Dartmoor"
“On the very edge of the vast moorland, startling every eye, A shape enormous rises! High it towers, above the hill’s bold brow and seen from afar, assumes the human form; a granite god – to whom, in days long flown, the suppliant knee in trembling homage bow’d. The hamlets near have legends rude, connected with this spot, wild swept by every wind on which he stands, the giant of the moor”
“A piece of heaven here below, creation at its best on show, with perfume drifting on the breeze, to guide us through this deep blue sea”
These are my heralds, and behold! my name is written in blossoms on the hawthorn-trees
“Dart, Dart, cruel Dart, every year thou claim’st a heart.”
I had to start this blog series with my go-to location - Combestone Tor.
Like many photographers, as we enter a new year, my thoughts turn to new projects. Don’t get me wrong, I never tire of being out with the camera, but we all need something new to keep the creative cogs turning.
