Wilderhope Manor

I walk past the back of Wilderhope Manor (at present scaffolded for roof work which can only be done when the bats and swifts are away), to where the land opens up into fields. The squelching mud is today iced over by frosts, cryogenically freezing the landscape into a Bronte-esque windswept moorland. There is a trickle of meltwater nearby and a bullfinch laps it up greedily. The ghostly call of a solitary crow is heard somewhere in the smoking mist. But this is an area of new discoveries despite its ancient atmosphere. Red kites were spotted last year and I find myself double checking the tail of every buzzard for a kite’s wide fan. A cold wind picks up, but the sleepy eye of the sun still just penetrates the shroud of mist. At first the wintry woodland appears dead but I notice tree creepers darting between the hibernating bows of ash and hazel. I walk through a gate and am greeted by a tremendous view. The wind has cleared the mist to reveal a different Wenlock Edge to the one I know. Not the two dimensional wall of limestone seen from Jenny Wind or Major’s Leap, but a rolling, three dimensional landscape of dales and valleys. The mysterious dark side of the Edge - hidden from the eyes of Longville and Church Preen by a dense deciduous cloak. The fields are green, despite the frozen puddles and bare hedges which surround them and in the orchard fieldfares and redwings are greedily scoffing apples. Another corner takes me back to the car park.