The Hovering Place

It had snowed in the valley that time forgot.

It was hard to recall how verdant the valley had been not so long ago.

I've been exploring the valley's hidden treasures for 15 years, but today's treasure hoard lay in the dazzling alchemy of light and snow.

First light was a defining light - emboldening the edge at Old Birtle.

And then, as the sun rose above the Pennines,

it tickled Scout Moor with a crimson wash, outlining the furrows of former times.

When the shadows receded, it favoured the tallest, and topped them out with frosted coronets.

After an hour of daylight the sun had charged the landscape with such beauty that everything seemed to oscillate with energy.

And when the sun kissed the top of the chimney at Washwheel - the lodestar of the vale - it drew me into the valley proper.

Entering the valley on this day was like crossing a threshold.

With this weary world wiped clean and glazed, it felt like reality was unravelling.

This coalescence of light and snow had distilled the landscape into a hovering place,

where the sunlight was gracious in its delineation,

and the snow was generous in its bestowing of every single surface,

every branch and bud,

every pit and pipe, a nobility beyond its worldly presence.

The Cheesden Valley

is chock full of the archaeology of our industrious past.

The Cheesden Valley

is chock full of the archaeology of our industrious past.

Andy Marshall

is an architectural and interiors photographer based in the UK

I put my heart and soul..

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