Realising roadworks would make for a slow ride, later in May, we again ditched the idea of catching the Colden bus, bought co-op meal deals and proceeded up Fountain Street awash with poppies, to the towpath, awash with marguerites. Painter Friend strolled over Blackpit Lock. “Have you finished early?” I asked. “Yes; I started early. Six hours painting windows – boring!” “I know. I’ve been doing it in our bathroom.” “I’m going to sit in the sun now.” She meant the pub. We sat on the centre cube opposite the café to eat and watch the park antics. Excited kids licked ice cream. A hippy spent an age erecting a pop-up tent. Too lazy to return a stick to its owner, a sheepdog crouched on the grass. We walked up to the station where wild geraniums outshone cultivated flowerbeds. Taking close-ups, I noticed a desire path down to the river but thought better of exploring. On Wood Top Road, the concrete surface was patterned with misty shadows of fern and leafy beech. At Wood Top Farm, grass and buttercups swayed in the meadow and goats the size of small cows grazed the hedgerows.
Continuing to turn left at Wood Hey Lane, leading to Park Lane and onto Nest Lane, splendid hawthorn and blackthorn blossom created garlanded arches. White ransoms, wood anemones, pink herb Robert and violet alkanet enjoyed the shade of the dark green right-hand verge. On the left, cow parsley wafted in bright sunlight. Hikers were dissuaded from supposed public footpaths by signs warning of dogs.
In Mytholmroyd, we visited the Shoulder of Mutton. Newly painted by the new owners (and twinned with its namesake in Hebden), food serving times were extended. A pity they weren’t updated on google as we may have had a pub lunch instead of butties, the landlady told us they currently offered a limited menu, but it would improve following an upcoming midweek closure.
We took pints outside to make use of extended seating alongside Elphin Brook. As miniscule brick mites and beetles crawled on the table, a fly landed on Phil’s eyelid. Below us, insects skimmed the water and a variety of wildflowers populated the bank. Unfortunately, a safety window mitigated against photos of a passing duck family consisting of a dozen adorable ducklings.
Walking through the village centre, we made a small detour to examine a wrecked house, concluding it was probably demolished for the flood defences. On the busy, noisy main road, Phil nipped in the crap Sainsburys before we escaped up Acre Villas back onto the canal for a welcome return to quiet greenery and blossom scents. A woman fed bread to a pair of Canada geese in hot pursuit. “You’ll never get rid of them now,” I laughed. “Yes, they’ve been following me all day!” Nearer home, we paused to admire raspberry-coloured rhododendron, which looked very tasty but probably weren’t!
We strolled along the towpath of the Rochdale Canal where daffodils created pretty reflections in the still water. We entered the bustling Calder Holmes Park.
As we climbed we detected bleating. New lambs gambolled cutely in the adjoining field, occasionally returning to their mothers. Near the fence, a set of twins nibbled twigs. One of the pair looked straight at me for a close-up shot.
I wondered if there was a shortcut rather than going all the way into Mytholmroyd. The amusingly titled ‘Roger Gate’ sported a sign to ‘Stubb’. We followed, down a beautifully maintained lane. A blackbird conveniently perched in a tree for more animal shots. Stubb Field recreation ground contained more than its fair share of warning signs alongside an empty noticeboard.
Complete with old stone gate posts, we imagined horses and carriages trotting along. A small terrace of old houses on the main road was labelled ‘Hawksclough’. I marvelled at how many times we must have seen this without actually noticing it. Across the road, I briefly examined The Square, noting it looked just as old.
The previous seasons’ detritus crunched underfoot, broken in places by fresh spring growth. A few early bluebells pushed up through the brown. Above us, branches framed a fresh blue sky. We crossed the glade at the top of the quarry, passing a clump of silver birch and noting fresh green shoots on oak and chestnuts along the tiny path.
The brook tinkled below as we crossed the bridge and ascended the stone steps. Emerging onto Wood Hey Lane, we continued to Park Lane. We rested on the verge with green fields behind stone walls either side, to watch new lambs gambolling and bleating.
Cool Places - Our Back Yard 